Crumpled Home

There are some people that say that you don’t choose your pets; your pets choose you. In this case, they may be right.

The morning started fairly normally, breakfast for the kids, lunches being packed, and a somewhat bizarre conversation about how useful it might be to have a magnetron embedded in your robot arm.

Benefits: The ability to quickly prepare hot beverages and to shoot popcorn into your enemies eyes…

Negatives: None!

We wonder why every robot doesn’t have one…

As pieces of fruit were selected for their lunch boxes, we noticed a rather grim looking pear in the basket. Closer inspection revealed that a family of fruit flies had recently taken up residence. The pear had turned to the dark side. As it began its brief journey to the rubbish bin, RJ spoke up:

RJ: Wait!

Dad: Yeah?

RJ: I… Can I have that?

Dad: This? The rotten pear?

RJ: Ummm. Yes? I need it.

Dad: What on earth for?

RJ: I… I want to do an experiment.

(He’s crafty, this one. He knows that science is the ultimate trump card in our family.)

Dad: What kind of experiment?

RJ: Well… I want to breed some some mutant fruit flies.

Dad: And how do you plan to do that?

RJ: First, I need to extract some carrot DNA, and then I’ll feed it to them. And then…

Dad: Hold up! That wont work! I eat banana DNA all the time and I’m not a yellow bellied mutant. Stomachs break down DNA when they digest it.

RJ: Curses! What if I just put it on the eggs? Before they hatch? Before they have stomachs?

Dad: That might just work.

RJ: And then I’ll have mutant orange fruit flies! And I can take over the world!

Dad: Okay. But your evil plans have to wait until you get home from school. You’re still in your pajamas, Dr. Doom.

RJ's latest pets, and the ingredients for their carroty future -- key components of his plan for world domination.

This is the tale of a lizard, a fairly ordinary garden skink, just 2 or 3 inches long. The lizard had been living a quiet happy life, basking in the sunshine, chewing on the occasional millipede, doing lizardy things with his buddies. He had dreams of a long life filled with sunshine and tasty insects, but there was a problem with his plans. He chose to live out his days in a schoolyard; a schoolyard that included several precocious young children with very quick hands.

On its own this may not have been a problem, but these kids were quite young and not always as aware of their strength as they might be, especially when weighed on the scale of a lizard. One afternoon, the lizard was caught by one of RJ’s friends and as he attempted to wriggle his way to freedom he was… squeezed.

Now most parts of a lizard are probably reasonably squishy and flexible, so this might not have been a problem, except that the child had the lizard by the head. Lizard heads are typically not so squishy and they contain a lot of things that are important to a lizard’s general success in life. The end result was an ejected eyeball, a small trickle of blood, and a rather unresponsive lizard.

Most children, after identifying that the essential essence of lizard had been released, would have abandoned him then and there but, as we know, RJ can rarely be classified in the group of “most children.”

RJ, moved by the lizard’s plight, rushed to the scene with an emergency response team and attempted to resuscitate the poor creature. No effort was spared. A sock was removed, moistened in the sparkling, clean waters of a nearby drinking fountain to clean the lizards wounds. An empty lunchbox was brought forward, complete with a selection of different food scraps and a piece of bark for shelter. Gentle soothing words of comfort were spoken, but to no avail. The lizard remained unresponsive.

RJ adjusts some things in Lizzy's aquarium so he can be more comfortable. A lizard has certain needs, apparently.

Undaunted, RJ remained convinced that “Thin Lizzy” just needed some time to recover and brought him home. The afternoon was filled with constructing an appropriate habitat, clean sand, bark, rocks and a delicious assortment of insects, millipedes and other arthropods — truly a delightful lizardy nirvana. It was surely just a matter of time before Lizzy recovered. At the end of the day, RJ carefully placed Lizzy on a warm rock and left him for the night.

The first thing the next morning, RJ rushed downstairs to check his patient… and… and… It was a miracle! Lizzy had moved during the night! He was now laying on his back beside the warm rock! Triumphant, RJ declared that Lizzy would be coming to school that day to show everyone the amazing recovery. Admittedly, Lizzy was still rather “lethargic” (some would say comatose or deceased). This fact was not lost on RJ. As he carefully placed Lizzy back up on the rock he announced that “Lizzy is just playing dead. He is really VERY good at it.”

Several times during the day, Lizzy would craftily bide his time until there were no observers and then scurry off around his enclosure, only to resume his dead lizard act when others showed up. RJ’s classmates were amazed, particularly by Lizzy’s unprecedented resolve to remain motionless in the face of close-proximity screams and prods with fingers. Lizzy returned home to continue his convalescence.

For the next few days, Lizzy was an ideal pet. He didn’t require a lot of attention (or food, water or air, for that matter). He kept within his enclosure without making any attempts to escape. He wasn’t even venomous, as many of our previous pets have been. If you look past a few highly unfortunate events, Lizzy really seemed to have a long, bright future ahead of him.

Despite how well he had integrated into our daily life, Lizzy’s tenure as RJ’s own personal pet was not long lived, and it really was his own fault. Three days later as the weather warmed up a bit, Lizzy learned a new trick. Not content with an occasional leap from his warm rock, he replaced his silent contentment with a new cry for help.

A terrible, foul, stinky cry for help.

Thin Lizzy moved out that afternoon. He lives across the street at the park now. We’re sure he’s happier over there.

Besides, RJ has some new pets now…

(to be continued)

It’s a beautiful, bright, sunny day and RJ and Mom are in the garden. Deep within a ferocious tangle of tomato vines, Mom is pulling up plants and getting the garden ready for a new season. RJ walks purposefully outside… He clearly has an agenda.

RJ: Mom, is there anything that I can do to help you? … And then maybe earn a prize? … Like a new Beast Quest book?

Mom: Ummm…Okay. You can empty out the pool so we can put it away for winter.

The pool is four metres in diameter and 80 centimetres deep… It holds a LOT of water.

RJ: And if I empty out the pool, can we go to the bookshop right away?

Mom: Okay… It might take a while though!

RJ starts industriously emptying the pool, tiny bucket by little, tiny bucket. After half-an-hour the water level has dropped a little, but not significantly. Mom feels sorry for him and steps in to help out.

Ten minutes later, she has had enough and is seriously considering suggesting that they just go to the bookshop and leave the job for Daddy.

RJ: I know it’s hard, Mom. But if we want that book, we just have to keep going.

Mom: (Feeling guilty, desperately wishing the child hadn’t just said that, wondering if it’s bad parenting to discourage such industry) Mmmmhmmm.

Time passes. More water is emptied into the garden.

RJ: We’ll just keep going, won’t we Mom?

Mom: Okay…

RJ: Because we might not like it, but it just has to get done.

Mom: (sighs)

RJ: Even if it’s really hard work. We just have to keep going.

Mom: Yeah…

RJ: Because if we don’t do it, who will? There’s just nobody but us. So we have to get it done.

Mom: (looking around for candid camera set up by Dad) Argh.

RJ: I know, Mom. But we can do it.

RJ: (pauses, thoughtfully) Maybe you should get a book too, Mom. You’re really working hard.

More time (and water) passes and eventually they emptied the entire pool.

All of it.

And they got a book.

And Mom got a coffee.

Towards the end of last year, LR decided she wanted to help some endangered species in whatever way she could. She remembered our local zoo has an orangutan conservation and breeding program with several large, well designed enclosures, and decided that donating money to their program would be a great way to make a difference.

Her idea was to hold an art show where kids at her school could donate two dollars to enter. In return, they would get a certificate and also a chance to win a huge jar of lollies. She hung several of these signs around the school and recruited a few of her friends to help collect money during their lunch breaks.

LR printed out these posters and hung them around the school.

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(a few weeks ago)

So RJ just had a massive meltdown, a full-on tantrum. We had the whole deal: screaming, tears, rage and finally just incredibly sad and dejected… The reason this time?

We refused to buy him a book.

Yes, we are cruel, harsh parents and yes, we are aware he’ll always have trouble fitting in with the other kids at school, but we refuse to have silly, made-up stories taking up so much of our childrens’ time. If we let them, they’d spend hours just sitting there on the couch doing absolutely nothing except filling their heads with empty nonsense. Half of the books appear to be filled with advertising anyway, to get you to buy the following books in the series. Mr. Dickens, we are sooooo onto you.

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A couple of weeks ago LR headed off to camp and we decided to have a movie night with RJ so he could enjoy something special. Considering his imagination, we picked an older movie with a fun story (The Adventures of Baron Munchausen). Things went fairly well, although he was a bit bored during the beginning. Part way through, Mom and I briefly turned and discussed something. I’m not sure what it was, but it was probably something critically important, like what the dismembered body parts that the cat recently dragged in originally belonged to, or when I would finally get around to gluing down the plastic strips on the edges of the cabinet doors in the kitchen.

Conversation over, we looked up and saw RJ, eyes very wide, staring at the screen. On screen, in the typically surreal and maniacal styling of Terry Gilliam, a horrifying, winged variant of the Grim Reaper / Angel of Death loomed over someones body, coaxing a soul from their mouth as flames and screaming noises roared in the background.

I quickly realised I had forgotten a fairly important part of the movie… and that I’m no longer in the running for the Parent of the Year Award. Less than a moment later, the movie was paused, the screen was blanked and we were asking RJ if he wanted to watch something else.

RJ: (quietly) Yes, please.

The movie got switched off and replaced with the safe, inoffensive (yet mildly nauseating) world of “The Land Before Time“, but it appears the damage was already done. To be fair, the scene was only thirty seconds long, but it does set up the young girl in her role as heroine, so it’s fairly important. Considering the last time I watched the movie was twenty years ago, I’m not surprised I had forgotten it.

My memory — or more accurately, my lack of memory — is an impressive thing. Yesterday I went to the shops to buy a few things, most importantly some spinach.  Now spinach was not only requested before I left, but was actually written down on a shopping list that I carried in my hand and it (spinach, not the shopping list) was a critical ingredient of the evening’s meal. Spinach was therefore very important and more than once while walking through the store I told myself, “Must not forget the spinach.” Much to my poor, suffering wife’s chagrin, the spinach is still sitting uneaten on a shelf in the vegetable department, quite safe from our hungry family.

The fallout from the movie incident didn’t occur until the next day and considering our previous experiences with RJ, it was pretty mild. It all started with RJ spending some time with his lego, working hard on a secret project.

RJ: I made something. Do you like it?

Dad: (channelling Keanu Reeves)… whoah….

RJ: It’s the Death Fairy.

Dad: It’s awesome. How long did that take?

RJ: Just this morning, but some bits are falling off, can you help me get them to stay?

Dad: Sure thing.

(Progress is made reinforcing some sections and changing others.)

RJ: Did you know the Death Fairy can smell better than a bear? That’s how he knows you are going to die.

Dad: Most people call him the Angel of Death. He’s not real, you know.

RJ: I know. It’s just a story.

Dad: Are you scared of it?

RJ: Not really. I already know lots about him.

Dad: Like what?

RJ: He can never be killed because he has no weakness. He also has many children that do what he says and help protect him… and a mum that stays at home and protects his house.

Dad: So he’s pretty dangerous then.

RJ: YES! Do you know the worst part?

Dad: What’s that?

RJ: He takes your soul and your ideas and puts them in a jar and he never lets them out. He loves to look at the little stars in it.

Dad: How does he do that?

RJ: He has the closest looker microscope, with the closest looking sensors. It’s the only way to see the stars.

Dad: So where did he come from anyway?

RJ: Well… Death Fairies used to be normal people and they lived on another planet. They were living in a house and it got buried under rocks and they died. After that, they felt a bit zombieish and woke up again… and then they were Death Fairies.

RJ's rendition of the Death Fairy, aka the Angel of Death.

We have a holiday coming up, in which we’ll be travelling overseas to spend some time on a tropical island. As part of our preparation, and to generate some excitement in the kids, Mom was reading through some of the possible destinations, an elephant park, a sea turtle rescue habitat, the Enchanted Monkey Forest…

Whoah! Everyone’s eyes lit up. A monkey forest? And not just any boring monkey forest… an ENCHANTED Monkey Forest! That sounded awesome!

Visions of tree houses and hundreds of friendly monkeys chattering away filled our heads. They’d do tricks for us, we’d clap and laugh; they’d dance for treats. A hat salesman would offer a dazzling array of coloured caps for just fifty cents each beneath a tree full of becapped monkeys. The kids might find a very friendly one and carry it to us, begging to bring it home as a pet. Perhaps a man with a yellow hat would wave, ‘Hello’. It just sounded magical…

A few webby clicks later later, reality had set in. The truth, as it turns out, is not as wonderful, full of glitter and simian camaraderie as our imaginations would have us believe.

The monkey forest is infested with Balinese long tailed macaques. Generally, they keep to themselves and the temple area. Although from time to time, much like hordes of school kids descending on the mall after school, bands of them will get together and raid nearby villages.

Now despite the fact that there are signs up, saying “Do not feed the monkeys”, there is usually someone nearby selling bananas (I presume he’s equipped with an electric monkey prod, monkey mace or a full suit of medieval armour). Feeding the monkeys, however, is not recommended. Nor is carrying food, shiny objects, or anything of any sort potentially appealing to a monkey, because the large macaques have no compunction against climbing people and beating them over the head, snarling ferociously, and brutally tearing whatever objects they might have on them away. Finally, monkeys can be infected by rabies and Hepatitis C, so any bites, scratches or broken skin are a serious infection risk. Monkey business is surprisingly serious stuff.

A useful guide to surviving the monkey forest provides these confidence inspiring tips:

• Watch your step, because monkeys can become aggressive if they are stepped on.
• Stay on paved paths, because monkeys can become aggressive if you wander into forested areas.
• Feeding the monkeys can be very dangerous.
• Loose items should be kept in the car or bus and kept out of the sight of the monkeys.
• Do not try to retrieve food or objects taken by the monkeys.
• Never threaten a monkey or try to tug an object back from a monkey.
• Keep a close watch on children.
• Do not try to touch the monkeys.
• If they attempt to climb on you, just walk away slowly.
• Do not tease the monkeys.
• Do not stare directly at a monkey.

This information was hammered home when we talked to a friend of ours who was actually bitten by a monkey while visiting. According to her, it was about as much fun as it sounds, i.e. about as much fun as a barrel full of rabid macaques.

So, with enthusiasm blunted and hopes singed, it looks like we’ll be giving the monkey forest a miss this time around. My dreams of driving across the countryside in a big rig with a new found monkey pal will have to be set aside. Fortunately, there are plenty of other exciting destinations on the island.

And not to fear, we wont be bored — this year there’s a new bit of tropical excitement infesting the Balinesian isle. Toxic caterpillars! Apparently plagues of horrible wriggly little caterpillars have been sweeping across the island, leaving the locals with itchy, red rashes when they come into contact with uncovered skin.

Tropical paradise, here we come!

While we were up at Gingin helping with the yearly wine making, a few cute little arachnids happily made their way across the floor to say, ‘Hi‘. Of course, the kids spotted them before anyone else. At first, we thought one of them had been crushed, but it turns out they are just deceptive little creatures and relish disguising themselves in places where they have the opportunity to attack your toes.

We found a suitable plastic container (one with multiple latches, locks, a secondary containment unit and an airlock) and collected them up so we could have a closer look.

Meet "Stingo", a (hopefully temporary) new addition to our family. We think he is a "Lychas spinatus spinatus", but we haven't identified him properly yet. A lot of people just seem to call them "Little Marbled Scorpions".

Unlike our last pet from Gingin (Mr. Bitey), these guys don’t have a disturbing taste for meat (raw, cooked or still attached to your body). They also don’t inspire the same deep, visceral fear that a vividly-coloured, 8 inch venomous predator with the alarming ability to scale any surface at surprisingly high speeds does… And the legs…. Oh god, so many legs…

We did a little research and discovered that they are terrific for getting rid of garden pests! Amazingly, they are happy to feast on slaters (pill bugs), which our garden beds are always crawling with.

Of course, the inevitable question came from RJ. “I can keep these as pets, right? Forever?”

…

…

…

Four hours later, the car was packed and we were driving home to Perth. As I drove, I had visions of our news friends escaping… Our first clue being a yelp from the dog, then yells from the kids, “The scorpions are out!!!”, followed by a lovely evening by the side of the road unpacking our gear and madly stomping around on the ground, eventually ending with us hitching a ride back, our car abandoned on the side of the road with a rough sign in the window, “Danger!!! SCORPIONS!!!!”

Fortunately, we made it home without a problem.

So… We’ve adopted three “Little Marbled Scorpions” for at least a week, just to see how they do. RJ can be responsible for finding food for them, and he’s already named them: “Fango”, “Stingo” and “Pinchers”. Unfortunately, they are venomous.

We wont be bringing them out for cuddles or playtime, but we have Bob for that.

(LR and Dad are assembling some Ikea furniture, while RJ mucks around and keeps us company)

Dad: Okay LR, we’ve got another drawer to put together.

RJ: (in his own world) The spice is here to stop the aliens. It’s the only thing that can stop them…

Dad: LR, hand me one of those bolt thingies.

LR: (handing over a bolt) One of these?

Dad: Yep. Perfect.

RJ: (busily arranging things) Without the spice, you would all be dead.

Dad: Okay, now I need one of those round locking nut thingies. Actually, can you put one of those in each of the big holes?

LR: (enthusiastically gets to work) Sure!

RJ: I’ll leave the spice bomb here. It will protect you.

Dad: Looking good LR. Let’s start putting those bits together.

LR: (inserting the bolts into the holes) Like this?

Dad: (turning to grab the next piece) Perfec…

(There’s a sudden loud bang and a huge cloud of ground cloves flies into the air as a plastic container and several carefully balanced pieces of wood fall to the ground.)

(Dad and LR are overwhelmed with spice in nostrils and eyes.)

Dad & LR: Arrgh, my eyes!! What the?! What was that?!

RJ: It’s the spice! You set off the bomb!

Dad: It’s on me and everywhere! What was in there exactly?

RJ: Well, it’s mostly spice… but it has a bit of sugar added.

LR: (yelling in absolute frustration) ARRRGGGH!! RJ! That’s a chest of drawers we’re building!! You’ve got spice in there! All my stuff will smell like cloves!

RJ: But that’s okay!!!   They are clothes!!!

(The spice-aliens connection is a new one to us. No, we haven’t been reading RJ any of the Dune series.)

During the Summer holidays, the family spent a lot of time down at the beach. Its a pretty great spot: calm, predictable surf (i.e. none) and these days the kids are old enough that we aren’t perpetually worried that they’ll drown, eat a toxic blowfish or get carried off by a seabird or something.

The afternoons are filled with splashing, riding their boogie boards, chasing each other and snorkeling along the shore – your typical beach-side activity. Their cousins even came over from Melbourne for a few weeks, so the games and activities were correspondingly more intense. With so much going on, you might think they wouldn’t need a lot of extra entertainment… and for most kids, that would be true.

Unfortunately, RJ is not quite like most kids.

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