Nosebleeds, Goblins and Hunks of Spunk

It started with a nosebleed. Within minutes of Joel and Maddie being dropped off for a babysitting assignment there was blood on the dance floor thanks to the chronic nose picker but nothing a cold compress and a few tissues couldn't control. I'm out of the habit of looking after small kids but sometimes I babysit my youngest niece and nephew, now 8 and 11, infinitely easier than the baby/toddler stage, nappies filled with poo and peas and when you need eyes in the back of your head for fear they'd land face down in the creek or playing with carving knives in the middle of the road.

Saturday night babysitting began at 2.00pm. Nice one. (Babysis taking advantage of some free time to get her toenails painted!). The kids were dropped off for an overnight stay just as DrummerBoy and I were settling into a gorefest pic (it's been wet all weekend so it seemed the natural thing to do) . They're good kids. They're feral perils who have no problem poking a stick down a Wolf Spider hole, squishing a huntsman or whipping ThePrincess into an indoor frenzy - then they're also just as happy sitting in front of a computer playing one of 1000 free download games. After a kindly lecture from Aunty Nell about the dangers of talking to stranger's on the internet and giving away you're hotmail address - they're so connected these younglings! The game which receives the most raucus laughter is a bunch of stick men fighting, the hero with a bow and arrow! They were distracted and happy for the entire time we watched John Cusack losing his mind!

Note the rather large tissue pile in just in case the nosebleed incident repeated.

Then the PS3 came out and gave Maddie some 'me' time on my PC whilst Joel mixed it with the big boys . . .

At about 8pm, the lads arrived for a predesignated booze fest without the girls in tow. Hoodies seemed to be the preferred fashion. And Joel appreciated being in the middle of the frey.

Drummer Boy did his own ironing . . .always fraught with difficulty . . .

How many men can you pack into a small bedroom . . .apparently about 7 but I couldn't get them all within shot . . .

The big boys wandered off into the night. Me and the kidlets settled into a session of Underdog and couch snuggles which reminded me of times when mine were more prone to staying home and burying themselves under a doona. I liked the cuddly contact I must admit.

The following morning, after pancakes with Dove chocolate melts and ice cream (hey, they're not my kids) we set off for Featherdale Wildlife Park . . a really, really nice little native zoo. in of all places Sydney's outer western suburbs, just about 20 minutes from where I live. It's the perfect place for foreign visitors, you can feed a kangaroo, and touch a koala . . . As we neared our destination the clouds set in and the rain pissed down and clearly signalled a wet afternoon of hiding marsupials and soggy kangaroos so we did a you-turn and settled for McDonalds for lunch at Castle Towers and the Spiderwick Chronicals.

Scarey for littlies but entertaining for my lot. Tell you, if you wanna meet a man, Sunday flicks is the place. The cinema was full of weekend dads wondering what to do with their once-a-week progeny. One unfortunate father had a 3 year old who didn't see the funny side of slimy, spitting goblins and spent the entire movie with a limpet of a scared child slobbering on his neck until he finally had to leave the older ones, asking me to keep an eye on them while he took the terrified toddler into the foyer. Michael was his name, very nice man. A little younger than me but very pleasant and grateful that I'd watched over his older kids while he consoled the inconsolable Amy who didn't see the funny side of goblins and ogres. We shook hands and parted with a smile.

Boring . . possibly - but actually, I had a really good time. I felt vindicated wearing my "I'm not infantile - you great big poopy head" T shirt.

They're great kids and a good excuse to while away the pre-movie half hour in Uncle Pete's Toyshop . . . did you know there is a bubble mixture where the bubbles don't pop! Talk about connecting with the inner child. Now if only I can get Joel to eat a green bean . .