Ahh... On Saturday I left Chas and Max with Kelli and family "Down De Islands", and hopped a boat back to town with Sam.
Dropped Sam at a birthday party (with one mall stop to buy him some flip-flops... Sam and I crawling about the mall, him in jeans, bare feet and still red toenails, loudly informing me that we gotta get YELLOW toenail polish so that he can paint his toenails "Like pus, mum. You know? Like a disease!")
Sam spent the night by his good friend Jesse, and I went on to meet Sean who had been on night duty the night before. Sean and I went to Vic féte with the usual suspects.... Teresa, get a grip, now!
We woke up early this morning, having not overdone it too much Saturday nite, and went BACK down the islands, taking with us Sam and Jesse. Sean and I floated on floaty things in the sea, and held hands and stuff, and wondered why we don't do this every time we've been out partying? What a way to recover!
Every so often we paddled slightly if the breeze blew us out a bit. We drank "vodka ceasars", a good recovery drink.
Ben.... Max says that Ben "sounds like he has something in his throat, you know? He can't make a lot of words very well." I said "do you notice that when there are many people around, Ben hardly speaks at all? Maybe he is afraid they won't understand him?" and Max balled up his fists: "if anyone makes fun of him, I will pick them up and THROW THEM IN THE SEA!"
This amuses me greatly, because Max is a skinny little shrimp and Ben, though he is a couple months younger, towers over Max. Ben is TOUGH! They suit each other very well, because Max never stops talking: "Hey, I think I should be paddling, ya know? I am better at it, and Ben don't you think we would go faster if I use the paddle? Oh good grief, this is so SLOW! Just let me do it. We will NEVER GET ANYWHERE! Ben, I am a much better paddler."
"EXACTLY, Max, that's why I should do it. I NEED PRACTICE!"
For the record, Ben is a better paddler, being bigger, and Max knows it. Why Ben doesn't push him in the sea, I just don't know!
Ben is a sweetheart. My blood boils when people say in a stage whisper: "what's wrong with him? Is he slow?" THOUGHTLESS! GRRRR!
So far, I have always managed to be diplomatic. But one day, I will say: "what's wrong with YOU? Some kinda moron?"