Funny Miss Phoebalina

Phoebalina has been a lifesaver this week. Actually, if I'm to be completely precise, all of my kids have provided the most awesome distractions over the last few days, for which I am eternally grateful. But Phoebs in particular had some stand out comedic moments that prevented the ugly crier from rearing her hideous head...and I thought thanks was necessary.

I'd like to bestow an award for services to Mummy's community (that would be the multitude of voices that currently reside in my head) to Miss Phoebalina Ballerina, aged three and a half.

On Thursday morning, when I was feeling very drained and flat after the funeral, Phoebe sneezed. Now, to ordinary people this may simply be a sneeze. In our house, however, sneezes are a big deal. As a result, we have a well-oiled system. Last winter, when the Mouse had a cold for about four months, we trained the big kids to shout out if her sneezes were "dry" or "wet". You know wet sneezes - the ones which shoot projectile yellow snot out both nostrils, so that it hangs below the chin. Both of my girls have a propensity for exploding with 'wet' sneezes as soon as I am driving down the freeway on the way to school in the morning. Which, as I'm sure you can imagine, poses all sorts of problems.

Anyway, whilst sitting on the floor waiting for Mummy to be ready, Phoebe sneezed. It was a double-barreled, waaaay past the chin, colour of an egg yolk, sneeze. And she sat very still, looked me calmly in the eye, and said, "Wet one, Mummy." Dry sense of humour, anyone?

What I wanted to say was, "No sh%t, Sherlock!". Instead, I simply replied, "Yes, babe, it is. Grab a tissue or five, ok?" And attempted (poorly) to keep my mirth under wraps.

Later, when we had dropped Jack at school, I ran into the shopping centre with the girls. I didn't want to see anyone. I had puffy, red-rimmed eyes (the ugly crier wakes up the morning after a day crying with eyes so puffed they're slitty), tangled hair, trackies three sizes too big, my old faithful polar fleece, and a case of the sads.

We grabbed a bone at the butcher's for Archibald, took some bread from the baker, and were flying towards the super-duper when my middle cherub clutched my hand tightly and smiled up at me. With one hand on the pram and the other holding on tight to Phoebs, I asked if she was ok. "Mummy?" she said sweetly. "You look fresh!"

Quite frankly, it was not what I was expecting. And I'm fairly sure my darling girl does not know what 'fresh' means, despite her excellent vocabulary. But I took the compliment graciously, smiled, and whisked my fresh self through Safeway in record time, lest someone I know see me and notice my distinct lack of freshness.

Phoebe's company all day on Thursday was exactly what I needed. Apart from being ridiculously funny, she was sweet with her little sister, an excellent packer-upperer, and refrained from teasing Jack mercilessly after school. So I would like to give her a special award, titled the "Thank You For Keeping Mummy Off Lunch Time Wine" award.

Special mention must go to the Mouse, who not only laughed uproariously throughout the whole funeral service, meaning that I could do nothing but smile back, but who has upped the ante since. Mais has discovered standing on her head, so that her bottom sticks up in the air. It is humanly impossible to stop giggling along with her while she does this. She has also taken to miaowing at random strangers in the supermarket. I don't need to tell you how hilarious it is, particularly when she does it to someone grumpy. And finally, when we walked in the door at La Porchetta tonight, the Mouse clapped her hands. Clever kid.

And Jack? Jack gets a special mention for making Mummy laugh for several minutes without drawing breath. In the car today, while Daddy was reversing and Mummy was in the passenger seat, a little voice floated over from the back seat..."Daddy, you're all over the shop." Priceless.