I'm not really here...

Seriously. I'm in New Zealand right now with Mom and Grandma Helen. Mom had to fly over and attend a conference and since I'm never more than 40 minutes away from her boob I came too.

Mmmm.... me thinking about some delicious boob.

So you're probably thinking I slipped away from my handlers to one of those baby-friendly internet cafe's to post this message from New Zealand. Well... although that's the image I'm trying to achieve I'm afraid the truth is a just little different. You see Dad is actually posting this from Melbourne. The fact is that as a 2 month old baby I can't actually type.

I mean, sure... I can bang on the keyboard with my tiny-yet-powerful fists of fury (TM) but when I do it usually comes out looking like this:

mo[dfb[\eaf4kIOPSDNIOOP popmlPJp08988

Not quite as engaging a dialogue, is it? And then of course when I'm tired of typing I generally spit up on the mouse.

So thankfully, Dad types for me. And of course I can't actually talk either, so I tell Dad what to write in my blog via a highly complex and evolved method of non-verbal daddy-daughter communication. Or he just makes stuff up. I'm not quite sure, seeing as I can't read either.

Anyhow... time to distract you from my embarassing admission (Saskia has a ghost writer! Gasp!) with some random cute-ness!

Damn. I'm good lookin!

This would NOT be an example of the 'non-verbal' communication I have with my Dad. This would be me laughing at Mom. Or possibly yawning at her. Actually, I'm probably getting ready for more boob. I'm one big baby, I certainly do enjoy a good boob.


OK... so for a week or so it actually looked like Australia might make it through to the late rounds of the World Cup! I was very proud... and equally distressed when they were finally eliminated on a bogus penalty kick awarded to Italy in extra time.

Well, what can you say. Italy sucks. I'll never speak Italian again...

Ciao!

S.