A morning moon

There's a dearth of fun places to go with children in this city without risking severe sunstroke in summer. This is why so many parents and children hang out in the kids zones in shopping malls. But I refuse to buy into all that on Thursdays, my precious day with wall-to-wall boy time, since I generally feel like I'm about to become epileptic when I'm inside one, and if not that, then certainly a het-up-and-horrible-human. So Alhamdull'ilah, the Lord be praised and everyone else besides, when we met a lovely couple of boys roughly our boys ages, who not only have the coolest garden, but also an Irish Mummy to match (double hoorah). It was dwarf paradise, as you can see here. The Lozenge and Rashimi were so excited by the garden, plastic and water combo, they took off all their clothes.

Tragically I had to pay up for the DHL/customs racket in order not to lose my very expensive camera that I cannot work without, and more lessons have been learned in that arena. I took J and the dwarves with me for moral support and the only thing that could make me smile is that the Arabic word for package is 'turrd' and we had all fingers crossed that Rashimi might leave something similar in their glassy, air conditioned lobby. But sadly to no avail. 

Having ranted about the way this country is run, rip off customs, manic malls, and the illegal pesticide spray they use on the cucumbers and strawberries, I think J was worried I was ready to pack up and leave. But we were saved, again, by our friendly neighbourhood Duke who nipped round to proof-read the obituary, and came in carrying the most enormous trays of organic fruit and vegetables from his farm. Our kitchen now looks a church altar at harvest festival and I'm no longer worrying about cancerous substances in the dwarves' micro-systems.

The Lozenge has taken to climbing into Rashimi's cot when he wakes up, and this morning he lay down beside him, sniffed his neck with a deep inhale, and said: 'You look nithe thith morning, Rashimi.'

Rashimi looked a bit surprised. He ignored the Lozenge's presence beyond a nervous sideways glance, pointed a sticky finger up at a whisper of a crescent moon in the morning sky, and said: 'MOOOOOON!'