Day Two: Milo and the War Criminal – Monday 15 June 2015

So, it’s probably about time we as a household stopped calling our son ‘Milosevic’, or ‘Slobodan Milosevic’, if we’re being formal. It’s clear how such a nom de guerre has developed and evolved; Milo is very slobbery and, well, the rest is obvious. One interested stranger, overhearing this in the supermarket has in the past even asked Kuepps if Milosevic is indeed Milo’s full name. Short answer, no we did not name our child after a war criminal.

Milo definitely responded to the name Milosevic today, perhaps a worrying development. Although we must be fair and acknowledge that the real Slobodan Milosevic was never actually convicted of crimes against humanity, dying before your trial can be concluded is not the same thing as ‘innocent in the eyes of the law’. So, perhaps one to be monitored if we don’t wish to provide future angsty teen Milo with ammunition against us.

Anyway, demonstrating our flexibility today Weetbix was served in the high chair, with far superior results. The morning was mostly spent also giving the cats the opportunity to show their patience and flexibility, which they continue to do.

More NBA Finals (Game 5) after the morning nap, Milo showed an enhanced interest today perhaps due to his hero Lebron’s powerful yet ultimately futile performance.

In order to prepare Milo for eating out in the inner city cafe of the future lunch consisted mostly of kale, pepitas and quinoa. You know you’re living when most of your lunch ingredients are not spelled like they sound. Milo loves kale; this is a strange sentence to write, and I admit difficult to believe. But it is true.

To help with the quinoa digestion we prepped the pram and headed out for a walk in the park, to spot migratory birds in the wetlands. Milo used his sharp vision to spot several ibis, doubtless halfway through their arduous migration from Tempe to Redfern. We were both quite impressed by their graceful movement and disposition.

Quaq Quao was not necessary today but a constant game of ‘Milo throw the ball out of the pram whilst cackling so dad can quickly bend over, grab it and toss it back in the pram’ was. The rules of this game are simple. Milo cackles and throws the ball out of the pram, dad quickly scoops it up while making a whooshing sound and tosses it back into the pram. Bouncing it off Milo’s head is ideal. Milo’s sleepy eyes hastened us home for a nap.

On the way up a man in the lift commented affectionately that “she looks a lot like you”. This confused me on a couple of points but we took it in our stride and mumbled the stock answer that this observation is likely due to the fact that I look like a giant infant. We let the gender confusion hang. It is actually a rather common mistake made by strangers. It is true Milo regularly wears pink which may be a contributing factor but today he was in traditional masculine blue stripes, as was I.

Finally we attempted to liquid fertilise the garden with Milo strapped into the Baby Bjorn. This resulted in seaweed on us both and should be discouraged in future.

  • Total hours planting trees for the local council – 0
  • Total hours spent researching apiary – 0
  • Total push-ups executed – 0
  • Total objects fashioned out of upcycled wood – 0
  • Total hilarious faecal related incidents – 0
  • Podcasts listened to – 1
  • Intellectual podcasts listened to – 0
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