Author Archives: Mark Rossiter

Last night we took the kids and Natasha to the Wanderers, with Kyria riding on Natasha’s knee in the back. There was a concert going on, and Allison sang Stop Your Sobbing – I could tell she was unsure of … Continue reading →

When I came downstairs yesterday morning Kyria ran up to me and said “Dad! Dad! Come and see Ant City!” In response to the number – a handful or two – of ants scurrying around on the living room floor, … Continue reading →

Something, anything… Nothing much happened yesterday. Except a whole bunch of little kids came around. Kyria had two friends here, and then Ian’s friend Elias from the neighbourhood dropped by. The thing is with Elias that he always brings several … Continue reading →

After her bath, Kyria put on her butterfly towel and began wandering from room to room breezily waving her arms and singing: I'm a butterflyFlying so highMoving my wingsUp and down in the sky Our young songwriter has something about … Continue reading →

Shortly after his grandmother’s death, Ian came up with the following account of how people are made: an angel makes the skeleton, then puts the skin on, leaving a small hole open at the neck, through which the blood and … Continue reading →

We have some orchids in a vase on the dining table. Ian observed that one of them had wilted and fallen from its stem onto the table. “That’s so sad”, he said. “Well”, I told him philosophically, “everything dies in … Continue reading →

We were driving along this morning when some David Gray came on. Ian sucked on his juice cup and listened along for about thirty seconds, then loudly asked: “Did his mummy die?”

Childhood and children are over-sentimentalised in our society to the point where any reasonable adult would reach for the sickbag, but what am I to make of something like this? Ian went into the cupboard, pulled my shoes out and … Continue reading →