A Post With More References to Australia Than Is Really Necessary

One of my friends told me years ago that when I had a baby, she would get this onesie, because I was the only person she knew in the intersection of the venn diagram of people who would be amused by this shirt and people likely to have children.

It still makes me laugh.

But I have no plans to actually feed M to wild dogs.  Besides, we'd have to go to Australia to do it, and that seems like a lot of work.*

We've been spending lots of time outside, as the weather has been beautiful.  It's a bit tricky, as M is too young for sunscreen and has, we suspect, inherited my skin which burns when one thinks about going outside and the temperature is above 50 degrees.  Actually, I've been known to burn on overcast days in the 40s.  So we try to stay in the shade, and when we go on walks, I put up both the sunshades on the stroller, which means that she's completely encased and can't really see anything.  She still seems to like it, though.  One of her favorite things - and by favorite things I mean a thing that can stop her crying when she has decided that she is having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day and is going to move to Australia (being unaware of the propensity of dingos to eat people of her sort) - is lying on a blanket in the backyard.

When we do this, the cat - who is also celebrating the end of winter by spending more and more time outside - comes and lies near us, though not so near that people might think that he likes us.  After all, he's a cat that walks by himself, and that particular place is the place where he was planning to go before we came out and sat in it.

Notice his legs in the top left; my arms weren't long enough to get him completely in the frame, and when he did move closer, he sat on the camera.

* Another of my favorite childhood poems expresses a similar sentiment.  After a lion eats their son, someone hopes that the couple will have more children. 

At that Mother got proper blazing
"And thank you, sir, kindly," said she
"What waste all our lives raising children
To feed ruddy lions? Not me!"

 (Full text of the poem can be found here).