Huge

We've just packed the car, and we're driving back to town to face the working week. It's after 9pm, the sun has just ebbed over the horizon, and the sunset colours are still playing with the landscape. Last glimpses of the farm make us feel mellow. Sabina is chirpy in the back seat, chatting more than a football comentator during a goal. I glance across our beloved hills. A white cloud besets the east horizon. A bright yellow moon rises from behind the cloud. "Look at the huge moon", I gape. Sabina turns to look. "The moon is HUGE", she cooes. Huge. New word. "Look at the huge moon", repeats Sabina. "Ribbit (frog), look at the moon, it's huge". Everytime she says it, huge is accented in every way to make it sound 'huge'. "Because it's huge, isn't it?", she continues. "Papa, the moon is huge, isn't it". "And look at the sky, it's huge". For the next half an hour all we hear, is various uses of 'huge'.

(When I first spot the moon, Papa turns to look as well. "It's a full moon", he says. "Yes, it's full, it needs to do a 'kupa'", says Sabina (kupa - think toilet, think number two). "In the toilet?" asks Papa. "No, in the pants!", replies Sabina.)

But Why?

Sabina is currently going through a "why?" phase. She asks about everything. Why this, why that.

I remember once seing a child like that on the tram (years ago, I wasn't even married). His mum was nice, but she wasn't answering all the questions. I promised myself then, that when my child is that age, I will revel in it and answer the questions thoroughly.

Now in many ways, I have kept my promise, but sometimes Sabina just doesn't know when to stop asking. Are all kids like that?

Well, no. This morning on the train to work, a lovely lady with a young boy get on. They sit right behind me. "We're at the front of the train, aren't we?", says the boy. "Yes", answers his lady carer. "But we can't see the driver", comments the boy, "why can't we see the driver?" "Yes!" I scream inside. "The driver is at the very front of the train in a separate cabin," answers the lady. I wait. The boy happily looks out the window. The topic is closed.

"What?!!!", I scream inside, "no more questions?". "Oh c'mon!", I think, "there must be another 'why'. Surely?". But no, there isn't.

See, because if that was Sabina, there would be another why. "Why is the train driver in a separate cabin?" "So that he isn't disturbed by passengers." "Why?" "Why what?" "Why he is not distubbed by passgers?" "Because if he was disturbed by passengers he might crash the train" "But why?" "Because when people are distracted they make mistakes." "Why?" "Because that's how our brain works." "But why?"

The Church

(On Christmas Eve we just managed to pop Sabina in a dress and we went to Church. On Boxing Day (26 Dec) we brought the harvest in, and on the following Monday (29th Dec) we decided to celebrate. We got Sabina all cleaned up, dressed, and we went to the Pub for dinner. The Pub and the Church are a mere 4 houses away from each other. Incidentally, the Church is downhill from the Pub.)

Sabina starts plauging me that she wants to go to Church. "Unusual", I think, but promise her a trip to the Church.

We park a little downhill of the Church and Sabina asks "why are we parking here?". She's always full of "why this? why that?" these days. So I explain, while we walk up to the Church. The service seems to have already started, but a few people are still wandering in. Sabina looks at the building and lets out the biggest shriek I have ever heard "not that Church!!!", as huge tears roll down her face. "Not that Church, Mama!" she screams, "the Eating Church!" I gaze wistfully uphill towards the Pub, and shake my head.

I manage to explain to Sabina that the Eating Church isn't open yet, so how about we go to this Church first. Then afterwards, we can go to the Eating Church. She nods in agreement, we wipe the tears and attend mass. As we're walking out of the Church, she gets so fascinated with making the sign of the cross with holy water, that she forgets all about the Eating Church, and we return home in peace. (Albeit, I am very careful, not to drive past the Pub on the way home).

My Eagles

A pair of wedge tailed eagles live in the state forest. They are within easy flying vicinity of our farm. During the summer we see them quite often, usually at around 2pm, circling above our farm house. They are huge, they are magnificent, they are captivating. I love staring up at the sky, just watching them as they catch thermals and glide forever higher without a single wing flap. Just the other day, I was sitting on the swing in the back yard, and there they were in our own paddock, barely a metre off the ground. I could see them through the trees. It was amazing.

Today a few visitors have come to the farm for a bike ride and a BBQ. The bike ride is all finished, and the BBQ is going strong. I am inside adding some final touches to a couple of salads. The door to the patio opens and a shrill cry follows "Ania, your eagles are here!".

We all run outside, noses pointed to the sky.