Book week

This morning we had Spunky Monkey's 'book week' parade at school.



Last year, the parade was cancelled. Last year he wanted to go as the tiny seed.



This year, he wanted to go as the tiny seed. We went through some of our favourite books on the book shelf. Ideas were put forth: Charlie (and Lola), the Hungry Caterpillar, Donald Duck, Blinky Bill, the Fly, Knuffle Bunny, Harry the dog, Max... or the tiny seed. Every day for a week I double checked: "Yep Mum, the tiny seed"



On that very first night that we discussed 'book week', he went and pulled the fabric from the cupboard that he already had in mind for the costume. Some half finished, maroon, velour jumper that I had collected in one of my 'fill a bag for $1.00' op shop raids. I drew up a design and got the approval to go ahead. I had intended to put elastic at the top and bottom to make it look more seed like, but as I don't really like sewing, I skipped it, the costume only needed to last the hour after all.



In a sea of costumes (Little Red Riding Hoods, Pirates, Princesses, Tin Men, Dorothy's, Harry Potters, a brilliant Queen of Hearts and a Mad Hatter to rival Johnny Deep himself ) my son stood proud, in his original choice. Sticking firm to who he is (my little nature boy - simple, uninfluenced). My tiny seed.



It wasn't the best costume in the place. But he loved it and I loved him in it. I asked him, when he put it on, "do you like it?"



"It's perfect!"

Lest we forget

ANZAC day was cool and rainy. But that didn't stop us and many others, umbrella's in hand, going to the dawn service.



After breakfast, my father showed me the war metals from his family. My grandmother had given them to him in December last year. I had never seen them before. They had belonged to his father and his grandfather. After years of being passed around to different family members, some are missing. So Dad has given me the job of trying to find out which have been lost. I guess a visit to my local RSL will be in order. I would love to see my father proudly march wearing these metals one day.

We watched the ANZAC Day parade in Gympie. We borrowed the large country town as our own for just a moment, when passing through, and enjoyed their community spirit. It was a lovely parade.







Near the eternal flame, just behind the main street we stumbled upon these beautiful mosaic murals of life in war, past and present.

A moving day of remembering and for me, imagining what life might have been like during those war years. One of my Great Grandfathers died in World World I, fighting for British Army, my other Great Grandfather also fought in the same area of France. Both of my grandfathers fought in World war II, in different places. My Grandad was a prisoner of war for 2 years and was already married to my Nana, who waited at home with a daughter he had never seen.

Imagine waiting and not knowing?

So many stories.