Yawn. For reals.

I can't even remember the last time i had a satisfactory nights sleep. It feels like weeks ago, but surely that can't be right. We've had the busiest week - maybe that's why.




So. Robin Hood.




I had such high hopes. And i did enjoy it! I did. But it wasn't the sweeping medieval epic i hoped it would be. Braveheart still sets the standard for me, and i didn't think this measured up at all. I did think Cate and Russel were totally hot together. Good chemistry. And the whole 'how did Robin Hood become Robin Hood' angle was interesting enough - they've cleverly left room for a franchise, naturally. But Russel's accent confused me. Was he English? Irish? Australian? Cate was marvellous, of course. I can't say enough good things about her, as you know.









On Wednesday, we headed out to see the gorgeous Zara, who has developed the most enormously fat cheeks I've ever seen. Obviously this would look hideous on, say, me, but on her, they are delicious. Super cute. Here she is wearing a little hat that Jo's mum made her...












This weekend, we had to move. You'll note i still have Internet access, and am thus writing this post - which sadly means the move is not complete. BLAH. So annoying, i hate having stuff all over the place. The lounge and kitchen is done, and i would say we're 80% there - but it just took so much longer on the weekend than we expected, and we were supposed to do more on Sunday evening, but ended up staying at Maria's for pizza and Jack-time instead. Maria got him this new bathrobe, which he claims to be scared of. He will literally run in the other direction screaming when she pulls it out. He has to be coaxed into touching it, and refuses altogether to wear it, which i just don't get. Whoever heard of anyone being scared of a bathrobe?




I was in the mood for tormenting him, so i played one of my favourite 'make-Jack-cry' games, which goes like this: first, i tell him that its time to go to bed. He will predictably protest straight away, so i back off for a few seconds until he feels safe again. Then i say, 'no, i really do think its time for bed Jack'. His panic is clearly visible by this point, and he shakes his head repeatedly, and will probably start to fake-cry. This is something he does to trick you into feeling sorry for him, but it doesn't fool me. 'Come on', i say, 'I'll take you.' He pulls out the ace card and runs to his mother for safety. She'll roll her eyes and tell me what a horrible Godmother i am, but won't actually rescue him, which means she secretly thinks its funny too. By this point, he's crying real tears and has wrapped himself around her legs, assuming i will not be able to pry him away, but alas, i can and do. Up in my arms, we march towards the bedroom and he begins to beg. 'No! No bed! Please!' I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.




For the grand finale, I dump him in the cot and watch for just a few...seconds...as he wails and carries on and is generally at my mercy. 'Why don't you want to go to bed? Aren't you tired?' I ask. 'I'm not tired! I'm not tired!' he sobs. I feel kinda bad now, so its time to turn myself into the hero. 'Should i get you out and we'll go see what Jo's watching on TV?' 'YES!' His arms outstretch. 'Are you suuuuure?' 'Yes, yes!' I reach in and get him out. He throws his arms around me in relief. In approximately 1.5 seconds the tears have stopped. By the time we get to the lounge, he's beaming and I'm his favourite person again. If you think I'm a bitch for doing this, it means you haven't met my friend Kat - she torments her niece by putting on scary masks and chasing her around in the dark. That's genuine scarring. And hey. I'm not the one that bought him a bathrobe so hideous that he's too scared to go near it.




That's me for the week kids! Wish me luck for the rest of the move!