The other night, The Boy woke at three in the morning, grumpy and wanting Daddy to sing him a song.
Which led in turn to the following conversation.
Mrs Insertnamehere: “Sing him a song Ramon, so we can all go back to bed.”
Me: “Well, I can’t think of any kids’ songs at the mo…”
Mrs Insertnamehere: “For God’s sake, just sing him anything”
So I sang him Bandiera Rossa, the marching song of the Italian left.
He loved it. I had to sing it three times and now he wants it every night before bed.
I just hope his Italian babysitter isn’t a supporter of fascism.
In other news, Melbourne radio “personality” Helen Razer has just turned 40 and to celebrate has created a blog of such startling vacuousness that I feel obliged to report said blog.
I have long despised Ms Razer, both for the utter shite she’s ground out over the years and for the fact that her ground-breaking work has given other “writers” (hi Clam!) the idea that stream of consciousness, self-centered babbling is somehow acceptable.
Next week, Helen talks about her appointment with the cosmetic surgeon.
Given that, to date, she has received zero (0) comments, I suspect very few give a flying fuck.