Dear Avocado Jnr,
Mater and I were shocked to receive the letter from your lawyer, informing us of your desire to divorce us. We understand formal proceedings have commenced and that we are not allowed to communicate directly with you, but we couldn't let that stop us, especially after your lawyer informed us that the main reason for the divorce is that we are "holding you back". Mater and I are shocked. We thought that after we bought you your own toy car, toy kitchen unit and toy phone, you would feel free from the shackles you claim we have placed on you.
The last thing we wish to do at this stage is burden you with guilt but you should know that Mater has not slept or eaten in days. She keeps going on about how we should have spotted the signs of your independence earlier. You clearly haven't needed us to amuse you for months now...
...nor do you need us to help you keep fit...
...You already know how to chillax in front of the TV or with a book...
...work things out on your own...
...feed yourself...
...and even plan and create great masterpieces on your own...
Yes, portents of your independence were there and we naively ignored them. Mater is beating herself up about that aspect of this whole episode, but since we received your lawyer's letter, Pater has been more concerned with 'how?'. How did you get so independent?
Pater wondered if it was an inherited trait. But since everyone assumes you take after your Mater and she has yet to cut the umbilical cord (subject of another blog post), that couldn't be it. Pater searched for an answer. Friends? Teachers? None seemed likely. And then it struck him - the Arab Spring had spread to Toronto. Like the the young Egyptians, Tunisians and Libyans all beying for freedom, the source of your divorce from us lay in technological access to messages of freedom, in your case the television.
But if so, who has been spreading evil messages of Freedom to you? Not Osama. Nor Obama. Someone else with a one-word name? That's right, J'Accuse Elmo!
With his love of his goldfish Dorothy and crayon too, Elmo is obviously a hippy who hates The Man. And don't even get me started on Mr Noodle and his brother, Mr Noodle's Brother - their hatred for parents is obvious when you realise that someone must have been responsible for such a pair of fools! And to think that we let you watch this evil propagandist morning after morning, as you ate your cereal and drank your milk.
Since his revelation, Pater has repeatedly slapped his forehead in shame as he realised that the signs of Elmo's influence has increased in the last few months.
And just recently you've really been rubbing Elmo in our face...
So now we know what caused your desire for independence from us. There is nothing that can be done to reverse the indocrination you've gone through. The dye is cast. And so on. Our lawyer has advised that we best comply with all your wishes. The crib and changing table are yours. As are Ursula the Bear, Mr Boing Boing and Gemima the Doll. The building blocks will be split 50:50, as will your stacking cups.
Since there is nothing we can do to change your mind, you won't mind if we include our most recent photo of the three of us. Just as a momento, you understand. It should not be construed as guilt-inducers. We accept that you want to go. The last thing we'd want is for you to look at the photo, break down in guilt-ridden tears, and then call your lawyer to halt the divorce proceedings...
All our love, Mater and Pater
p.s. we presume you will still be walking in the upcoming Zareinu Movethon to help kids with special needs and if so will want your friends and family to sponsor you at http://my.e2rm.com/personalPage.aspx?registrationID=1114045&langPref=en-CA&Referrer=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.moveathon.com%2F.
"Let it snow" was composed in 1945 by an idiot who never stepped foot in Canada. There isn't enough popcorn, kisses or being held tight to justify that kind of statement in a country that spends more time in sub-zero temperatures and blizzards than a North African dictator does checking airline flights to South America.
Avocado Jnr, do you remember how care free you used to be? Remember wearing a simple life-saver in September?
A fleece-lined cardigan in October?
Or a light coat in November?
No neither can I. It was so bloody long ago! Since then, all we've seen in our back garden is all this...
Not that Mater always gets the order right. I mean, come on, boots before coat and hat??? Who does that???
But once the snow had been around for a few days, the task of getting you ready to play in it became too arduous for your lazy parents. So you became a true Canadian - moving from one shelter to the next, trying to ensure that the minimal amount of time and skin was exposed to snow and Arctic winds.
Thankfully you then discovered that other great Canadian invention - Florida. Who knew that only three hours south (as the metal bird flies) is a place of warmth and funny accents? Finally a chance to wear your havaianas and crocks!
Destination picked, all that was left was packing. Mater is so proud that she has created a stereotypical girl who doesn't know how to keep her luggage to a minimum. Pater is not allowed to state his thoughts on the matter. Pater will say that his back is only now starting to get better.
Climbing on the scales and insisting that you being underweight should mean more baggage allowance is not an argument that really carries much, um, weight with Westjet. Believe me, Mater tried.
On a three hour flight, cramped into seat like those proverbial sardines, when would the optimum time for falling asleep have been? Yes, Avocado Jnr, literally as the plane starts its descent into Miami airport!!!!
An hour later, we arrived in the retirement village called Boca Raton, at Uncle Toronto's holiday home (thanks for having us!). Before our suitcases had barely reached their respective bedrooms you had flung off your winter garb and donned a swim suit. Unpacking could wait. YOU WANTED TO GET IN THE POOL.
And for the next week, whichever pool you were in you were as happy as a fish in, um, er, water.
In fact, you loved your little boat so much that you started dropping hints to Mater and Pater...
Seven days. So many wardrobe changes. Each cuter than the last.
So why the impatience? It wasn't just to get to the pool. You quickly fell in love with the beach. Initially it was all that sand. So much potential food! Then it became the seagulls you were certain you could catch. And then it was just the freedom to run around without the winter armour of Canada. The one place you were not a fan of (could've been all the jellyfish) was the sea. No matter how many times we tried, you did not like that type of wet stuff.
And in all of that cuteness, there was THAT snake. As you will see below, after you had the courage (read: stupidity) to smack a cobra, Grandma Toronto had no choice but to do the same. More or less. The good news is that Grandma Toronto is now the proud owner of a yellow, snake skin hand bag. And shoes. And wallet. And...
Going to the pool, the beach, and the zoo are all great. It would get anyone excited and out of the house in a rush. But your real passion was reserved for one specific activity. Passed from Grandma Toronto, to Mater to you. An activity that requires concentration, perseverance and the ability to push people out of your way when you find what you're looking for. All the male readers are still sporting quizzical looks. All the female readers are sighing in contentment that another has joined their ranks.
And at the end of each jampacked day of fun and frivolity, you discovered a whole new area of entertainment. Why can't Mater and Pater's car in Toronto be so much fun? And who knew that knees and toes were so interesting???
Not that the holiday was all rush, rush, rush. Sometimes a girl just needs to nap and dream about home. Where it's cold. And snowing. And...and...I'm sure there's something else. On the tip of my tongue. I had it a minute ago. Okay, it's gone. Surely there's more to Canada between November and April than cold and snow? Surely? Please!
Posts
...feed yourself...
...and this...
