Photos to come from our two nights away on the Bellarine at Sister's. Little Jo, R and myself were playing a game at the basket ball hoop. She had a thin stick with a small ball on the end and was standing under the hoop trying to knock the basketball out as it began to descend through the hoop. If she failed, it fell on her head. She was not in the best of moods, but a big poo later at a cafe saw her return to a more cheerful state.
The game concluded and she mounted the trampoline for a bounce. I stuck the thin stick through two opposing holes on the basket ball hoop pole. "Andrew, can you take the stick out please." "Why Little Jo? It is Christmas and it looks like a cross". "Andrew, you are so dumb. A cross is for Jesus at Easter. Take it out please".
She is a lippy lass and bites at nearly every remark. Sister wasn't as bad when she was young. Sister and Bone Doctor said they are seeing Mother's traits coming through with Little Jo. They bypassed Sister, who is always busy, outgoing and very social, nothing like Mother.
At the age of two, Mother, Sister and Little Jo looked identical, all with long curly blonde hair. Yet after plying Bone Doctor with a Scotch or two, she said Little Jo also looks like her half brother and sisters too, Little Jo's biological father's children.
I feel awful saying it, but I just don't hit it off or get along very well with Little Jo. If there is a tech issue with a device, she will ask me, but mostly I am just in the background, the silly old uncle. In a weak moment, I mentioned this to R, and he quite rightly said, I have put in the hard yards and you haven't. This is true up to a point, but I am always in the background doing things for her, just not the direct contact. Anyway, she can be quite short with R too, in spite of hundreds of hours of care he has given her. Even R said after we returned from the Bellarine, she is terribly spoilt and really suffers from the single child syndrome. Ha, just like Mother.
No one will see our Christmas decorations this year. I can't remember the last time someone actually visited us. Ok, not so long. We took Little Jo to see the Myer Christmas window and while I am at work, R will look after Little Jo on Sunday while Sister and Bone Doctor go to the cricket.
I must be feeling a little maudlin. I will pour myself a large gin and tonic and as gin is a depressive, make the situation complete.
Therapy by writing is complete. I am my Mother's son.