Prawning AKA 'Hunting for Sea Cockroaches' or 'Fishing for Sea Beetles'

Because, let's be clear, that's what they are.  They're all arthropods; crustaceans, spiders, beetles....  They all have segmented bodies, exoskeletons and 8 million legs (roughly).  Crabs and spiders; they're the same thing.  THINK ABOUT IT. So you're paying a premium to eat spiders legs.  To be precise, prawns probably resemble millipedes the most.  Mull that over.

In addition, District 9 named their aliens after prawns.  Because they look alike.  And they both love cat food.

With Garlic Butter.

However, everyone else in my family loves prawns.  And to be honest, unlike fishing, prawning does not require you to get up before sunrise and freeze your tail off, getting seasick and watching lines bob in the water. So I'm generally pretty gamers (relatively speaking).  On a beautiful day like this one- 28 degrees Celsius,  flat calm and with playmates in tow (minus an auntie and a cousin; sad face emoticon); I can't complain. 

We did have an inauspicious start.  We forgot Maggie's life jacket on the other boat, and she refused to board the vessel.

What's the weather like?  Calm seas?

But she adjusted.  She helped herself to some of the prawn bait, and felt better about her situation.  We paid for that later.  Our bedroom stank for days.



I'mhavingthebesttime

We went out with Uncle Dale and Cousin Wade. 


Wade's an excellent driver.

 Ann was very adamant that we strictly follow all fishing regulations and boat safety protocol.  She was ready to blow the whistle on any infraction. Wade regulated that Ann not touch his trains.

She was mainly concerned with filling her face, though. 

Whilst her mother was distracted with the task of smiling and sucking in, holding the dog and child on a moving vessel; Ann ate everyone's sandwiches.

Except for when it was her turn to drive.

Anyways, prawns were caught.  Maggie was super interested in the proceedings.



The f_ck?



Squat lobster.  Squatting amongst the prawns.



Do you want me to hold that for you for a second?

 I even helped behead them, which is a testament to my good mood.   Prawns are alive when you behead them; I barely even gagged as I gamely pulled out their little gut tube.  I'm so incredibly reasonable.



There was an inevitable and delicate conversation later at dinner.  "Wait a second...  Don't those prawns have families to go home to?  Who will take care of their babies?  Can you pass the garlic butter?".   I'm not sure how well we handled that conversation; I doubt that any time you're using biology terminology with a 4-year old, you're being very effective.  At any rate, she ate them.  

Happy Mother's Day! Unless you're an Unwed Mother, in Which Case; Clean it the Eff Up

At daycare last week, my loving daughter made me a Mother's Day present.  It turned out to be a narrow miss; I almost didn't receive it.  I was away this past weekend and I couldn't attend the Extra Special Mother's Day Tea at daycare.  In a fit of rage, Ann insisted that all my gifts be given to Daddy, and that Mother's Day be forthwith known as 'Daddy's Day'.  In fact, it was inclusive of the day before and the day after as well; making it 'Daddy's Days'.  And on those days, lots of stories were to be read by Daddy, and she was going to REALLY ENJOY THEM.  She said it like that too; all shouty capitals.

Luckily, she's generous of spirit:

 Now, before you get too distracted by the perfect and artistic alignment of those buttons, let's zoom in:

"To Mommy; I am thinking of you having a new ring because you like new rings. From Ann."

Obviously, she's being passive aggressive here.  It might not even be passive; this might constitute aggressive-aggressive.  She is clearly frustrated with being the only illegitimate child at daycare.  I'm sure she is routinely excluded from any reindeer games.  With our next bastard, we will scout daycares that are less hetero-normative.

I know what you're thinking, and I also cannot figure out whom she learned this behaviour from.  Probably the dog. She's super subversive.

 *To clarify; our daycare- while a little hetero-normative- is amazing.  Our next bastard will be lucky to attend.

** Adrian does not approve of me referring to offspring- both current and future- as bastards.  Just to be sure I was using it properly, I googled it:

bastard; n.

1. child without married parents 2. One who is narcissistic and unknowingly frustrating 3. The killer of kenny 4. A 70's band which changed thier (sic) name to Motörhead and became one of the best bands ever. Your parents aren't married, hence you are a bastard.   You killed kenny, you bastard. Now, even though this is the Urban Dictionary definition, known for their irreverence of the English language and their frequent misspelling of words like 'their' (see above); the number 1 definition does (in a catholic sense) apply. Potentially, also, number 2 (she does talk about herself a lot, and she did give away my special commercial holiday to her father). Adrian's point- that technically we are married- is also true, but it doesn't allow me to swear on the internet. So... that's lame. I will continue in my usage.