A message from Rosie

Dear Internet,

It’s ME, Miss Rosie Bum Keane and please don’t snigger because that is MY name.

At least my big sister Pilly says so and she also says that it is not nice to make fun of names and I think I should take the advice of a girl called ‘Pilly’ seriously on that point. After all, my other sister seems to be called Gemmaguts.

Anyway, here’s the thing, Internet.

That wasn’t very nice to go sticking needles in my drumsticks.

Not one bit.

I am not very impressed and you better not do it again, mama lady, or I will give even worse Hurt Shock Face and Shrieking.

Also, it hurts now whenever I move my drumsticks and I can’t help when I move them and it kind of seems to be a lot and that is why I have been an utter grizzle bum and it is all the fault of the needles.

I think I’ll throw in a little light fever for good measure.

Now remember what I told you all, Internet. No more sharp things in MY drumsticks.

I’m glad we had this little chat,

Miss R Bum.

Iceeeeyyyy Poooollle (please).

 

Dear Internet,

 

Did you know it’s something called Somer?

 

 

Well it IS Somer-time and you can thank us for informing you of Somer-times because Somer-time means certain really good most nice things.

 

1. Less Tights

 

2. More being chased with the hose in the backyard where the water police cannot see us.

 

3. Lots of picnics out on the deck because Mama seems to think that never sleeping makes cleaning up after us even more unappealing than you’d think and will go to some lengths to feed the birds by accident of inaccurate toddler avoid it.

 

4. Oh, and these things called icey poles.

 

 

They might just be the most important bit of Somer-time.

 

 

Yes, even BETTER than an ‘Im so PROUD of YOU’ for a direct unprompted potty run.

 

 

The other good thing about Somer-time, Internet, just quietly is that if you haves a tiny accimadent while a bit too excited running on the grass after your icey pole, nobody gets especially upset.

 

Somer-time is kind of fun.

 

Love,

 

Lily and Gemma who are always on the look out for the next icey pole and might just be a tiny bit whiny at times in pursuit of same.

Fringe Benefits

Dear Internet,

It is Miss Pilly here today and really you should only be seeing me in the following photos from a careful distance.

Mama says she is very sorry indeed and she has learned her lesson.

Se says she has refrained from printing any of the offending photos and we’ll just all pretend it never happened.

Being a kind Mama, she also took rather a lot of photos from my only Good Angle for about a month after the Thing With The Scissors.

Thank you, Mama.

 Do you see what I mean?

Gemma would like to point out that SHE has never had such a problem.

 Nyah!

I likes my Fringe anyways and that includes even when it almost doesn’t exist.

Love,

Pilly who calls a piano a ‘yanno’ and a guitar a ‘tar’. Gemgems would like to point out that a ‘tar’ should be called a ‘dee dar’ but mama just smiles when we haves that particular discussion. I have no idea why.

Stippy

Dear Internet,

It is Gemma AND Lily AND Rosie here blogging today way waaay up past Mama’s New Baby bedtime, mostly on accounts of she felt a bit guilty that we hadn’t got all online to tell you all about the delightful things we’ve been doing lately.

Mama says if she waits a week, she just remembers the worst of the toddler meltdowns and forgets the sweet bits and that is a shame because we do sweet as well as we do meltdowns.

We do meltdowns VERY well, in case you weren’t clear on that last point.

Anyway, we wanted to tell you about Rosie Bum and how much we loves Rosie Bum and how we would cuddle Rosie Bum and feed her from our own feeding bits all day if we could and before you look slightly startled, we know how babies get their milk.

We are very observant and most enlightened toddlers and aren’t afraid to explain it all to you in the supermarket. At length.

Poor Mama.

Attention to detail is what we DO, Internet, and we have a special knack for the kinds of detail that grownups don’t want us to see or hear and THAT is why we get all curious about the more interesting Driving Words available.

But it’s all okay in the end, Internet, because we wouldn’t want to set a bad example to Rosie Bum and that’s why Mama is working very hard indeed on saying ‘duck’ rather than the version starting two letters along when Driving.

We don’t get the joke.

Love,

L+G+R

Best Mama.

Dear Internet,

It’s Gemma GemGems here today, and don’t ask but I have Decided that I now answer to GemGems and will correct you if you try and call me GEMMA , oh yes I will.

I wanted to tell you all about how I was a clever girl and used the WC all day in creche today without one single teeny tiny accident despite all the fun distracting toys and games but instead Mama says I have to tell you about something Lily did today because Mama wants to remember when we are older and more adolescent and disagreeable.

 You see, Lily told Mama this morning that she loved Mama very much and that Mama was her best Mama. She also said she loved Rosie lots and lots and that Rosie was very mostest cute and when Mama brought Rosie to creche at the end of the day Lily was delighted because she had missed ‘Rosie Bum’ very much indeed.

Lily can be such a sop.

I gave Rosie my dum dum. I reckon that means more than a million zillion missed very muches.

Love,

Gemgems.

Helping.

Dear Internet,

It’s Gemma here today and do excuse the motion blur on my feets that you might have not noticed had Mama accidentally not hopped into my writings to point it out and mutter about shutter speeds in low light conditions and how she should have faffed with the aperture or caved and used the flash or some such rubbish, but ANYWAY.

I am a helper Big Girl, oh yes I am!

I am NOT a baby because Rosie is the baby and I wear knickers (sometimes, when I am not going all bottomless to remind me about the virtues of the potty because Mama says she is not having with three children in bleeping nappies and she really says ‘bleeping’ pronounced kind of differently as some sort of special grown-up word that we are not allowed to repeats, too).

Rosie just has lots of accidents in her pants, and I reckon Mama is being pretty jolly patient with her right now. I know better, because I am now Big and I NEVER do accidents.

I am also a WONDERFUL helper and you only have to see me help rock and kiss and cuddle the baby to sleeps to see my Helps.

Actually, Mama says that both Pilly and I are most excellent with Rosie and still seem inclined to keeps her and we do rock her rocker rather well and sooner or later we shall get the advanced diploma in Newborn Thy Shall Take Thy Pacifier.

We currently only do the apprentice version, Thy Shall Open Mouth and Have Pacifier Briefly Enlocated Before Inevitable Spit.

But on the other hand, we do still think our plastic cookies might become magically edible if we but try them opportunistically enough. It could be a while before we gets the hang of things.

At least we go POTTY by ourselves, though.

Love,

Gemma.

Big

Dear Internet,

It’s Gemma here.

I’m a BIG sister.

First time I’ve ever been called a BIG anything and Mama says it is going to my head a little.

I like Rosie. I can blame the smells on her. Can we keep her?

Love,

Gemma.

Hatch.

Dear Internet,

It is Gemma and Miss Pilly here today and we have been sent to bed good and early on accounts of something to do with a hosti-pal tomorrow.

The way WE tell it, the baby is going to hatch.

It’s just like the chickens at daycare, right?

Love,

Pilly and Gemma who will be safely playing with fingerpaint at aforementioned daycare at hatch o’clock.

Conference

Dear Internet,

It is Miss Gemma here today and I wanted to show you pictures of something terribly important.

ME!

Sitting at the table having a lunchtime conference with Lily and eating something other than plain toast, weeties, rice crackers or rice cakes.

Oh well, never mind, you can never get ALL the details right, you know.

Love and kisses and possibly the odd tantrum when things do not come in the Green Bowl as requested,

Gemma

Not Real.

Dear Internet,

It is Miss Gemma and ONLY GEMMA here today and I am writing on accounts of I have learned something called ‘mild subterfuge’.

Ignore Lily. It’s all about ME today.

Not only can I really, truly read medical magazines entirely upside down, but I can ALSO pretend to yawn and go to sleeps when it is Bedtime and I still have the urge to play quietly with my toys in my cot.

Mama says that if it wasn’t for the secret hour of Gemma to Bear conversation that goes on afterwards on the monitor, she’d NEVER know my saying ‘YAAAAAWWWN, I am so tired, goodnight Mummy, I’m sleeping now, hurrungh-pffffttt, hurrungh-pffffttt, hurrungh-pfffftt,’ was all an act.

Aren’t I clever?

Love,

Gemma.

Covershift.

Dear Internet,

It is Miss Pilly here, the best and most wonderful-est big sister in the whole entire world, today and I am finally writing to you to tell you of my wonderfulness on accounts of something called ‘deceptively q-word covershift’. Mama says that she isn’t complaining and additionally isn’t asking any questions like if there is some work that shuold be happening.

Mama prefers to hide in the library at almost 37 weeks pregnant and pretend she is not working for fourteen hours the second time this week instead.

Personally, I recommend sucking your first two digits on your left hand to pass the time, but grownups have no taste in these matters.

Gemma still prefers her dumdum, but that is because she is not a clever and wonderful big sister who promised to do ALL of the new baby’s nappies and drinkies most especially at night.

Honestly, I don’t know what the fuss is, Internet, you just pour the milks into Mama’s belly button and Job Done!

Love,

Pilly.

Frecklepit

Dear Internet,

It is Gemma and ONLY Gemma here today and don’t you amend my name in ANY way or else. Mama says she is sorry for the lack of writings lately but she is feeling something called seven shades of bloody awful. Mama will come up with any excuse not to help us blog.

Anyway, I have told Mama that because I am GEMMA alone (I also do not have a surname, not one bit) that there is no need to try to explain why I seem to have attracted the titular term.

Because.

I am GEMMA.

Love

Gemma.

Rocketship.

Dear Internet,

It is Miss Pilly here today and I look kind of wistful because I was thinking of the fun I could have been having at The Rocketship when these pictures were taken.

My expression was nothing to do with a finger-slurping toddler mental coma state. Honest. There WAS more than fluffy pink clouds between my ears, it’s just a little bit hard to Emote About the delights of The Rocketship outwardly when one is compelled to keep two digits in one’s gob at all times.

I like The Rocketship. It has slides and balls and noisy things and things you jump ON to and OFF of and run around and around until you get dizzy and THEN, Internet, you gets to eat some fruit and yoghurt and Dada takes you home in the car in the rain just so’s you can have a delightful nap time in the back and return to a full and fulfilling schedule of finger slurping.

Everybody should go to The Rocketship from time to time.

Love,

Pilly.

The long and short of it.

Dear Internet,

It is Miss Pilly here today ( in fact, I am SURE that my whole entire name is Lily Miss Pilly because that is what I tells everybody my name is) and I have but one SMALL point to make.

I am clearly much taller.

That’s nice for me.

Love,

Pilly who NEVER abuses a height advantage.

PS. Mama says sorry for the gap in writings, she just had even more on her plate that usual. If she’s talking about dinners, internet, well, I Am Here To Help. I am also nearly two whole kilograms heavier these days.

Con.

Dear Internet,

It is Miss Titch Sweetie Darling Plain Gemma guts here today and I have bit one question for you.

What’s a ‘con’ anyway?

It’s just that Mama seemed to be hiding a little surprise and a large bit of glee at getting us to go beddy byes tonight and I don’t quite understand why.

Perhaps it was something to do with it being an hour earlier than usual and still light outside or something.

Love,

Gemma.

Wet

Dear Internets,

It is Miss Pilly here today and Mama says that I have taken to doing something wedged firmly between most amusingly charmingly silly and just plain annoying upon repetition.

We all know that three year olds are fond of a little repetition!

Mama says I should point out the standard disclaimer that loves me lots and lots anyway, no matter how ridiculous I temporarily become, but she does hope this phase is a short one.

Anyway, I have taken to pulling my fingers from their favourite location whenever I wishes to actually use my left armey peg and then I have also taken to indignant whines like a hive of angry bees because two of them seem to be all wets.

Oh, and I absolutely must have a custom and thorough hand-dry of aforementioned digits each and every time I discover their wetness. By Mama.

No, there isn’t a possibility of doing it myself.

Of course.

Love and damp cuddles,

Pilly.

Owie.

Dear Internet,

It is Miss Gemmaguts here and I am obligated to point out something of utmost importance to you because the owner is pointing it out to anybody who fails to move away fast enough.

Lily has an owie. On her hand.

But that’s okay because she got the splinter owie having lots of fun playing wheelbarrows with Sir on the deck and anyway Mama plucked it out pretty much straight away after she actually LOOKED at Pilly’s hand when the Kiss Better+ Rub Better strategy didn’t quite work as well as usual and THEN Pilly scored a Barbie bandaid. On her owie.

I might just have been jealous enough to demand one for my completely uninjured knee.

Love,

Gemma.

Miss You.

Dear Internet,

It’s Pilly.

I miss you.

Tell Mama to type a little more often, will you, or how else can you hear about how I turned the house upside down inconsolable until a Certain Favourite Toy was confirmed safe and sound?

Okay, so it might just have been in my playroom all along. In a box. At the bottom of about fifty million carelessly tucked-in dollies.

I AM only three you know.

Judgement and insight, not to mention planning, are some years away yet.

Love,

PillyMonster.

Left-Left.

Dear Internet,

it is Miss Gemma here and Mama says that although she misses my left handed self most horribly on nightshift, at least she can console herself with pictures on my dummy-occupied face.

She can’t show you pictures of how daycare got my shoes mixed up with Pilly’s much bigger shoes today (result: two left feet for Gemma and two right feet, one very tight indeed, for Pilly), but that THAT is all okay because you probably get the idea.

Also, it took her a while to notice my two left feets.

Love,

Gemmaguts.

Work.

Dear Internet,

It’s Pilly and Gemgems here and Mama THINKS that we are probably being most delightful, but she is at work and therefore can’t confirm that rumour as such.

No, you may not call Dada and ask him, just take our word for it.

We are always mostest well behaved.

Probably.

Love,

L+G

Amanda.

Dear Internet,

It has been a Long Time Coming on accounts of uploadey-tardy, but Mama says that we should say thank you to Aunty Amanda for our Flower Hats.

Personally, we think we should be apologising for the flash abuse again, but we DO very much lots adore the hats. Even if we look a little on the pale and frozen side in these pictures.

Also, Lily would like to point out that she can tell you all abouts how she eats food and puts it in her tummy for safekeeping but that she can’t really explain what happens to it after that point.

She CAN, however, tell you all about her card she made Dada for Fathers’ Day today (courtesy of daycare) in which, in true attention-to-detail fashion, the photo on the front is one of her with her favourite biggest, greenest, nose ornament image she could find.

Mama says that THAT card is going in the family photo album for laters. In about eighteen years.

L+G

Playroom.

Dear Internet,

It is Gemma (without the ‘miss’, ‘guts’, ‘grump’ or ‘titch’ endearments, please, if you don’t mind) here today and I have something important to show you.

I haves two hands with ten digits and I also have a nasty case of Face and Limb Shadow and Blinky Things in my eyes on accounts of Flash.

Mama usually doesn’t do Flash on me, and I am not entirely sure I approve of it.

Okay, well maybe I likes it a little bit if it means that I can show you how I play clapping with Pilly in our playroom.

We approves of our playroom. Most thoroughly.

Anyway, Pilly reckoned that the most important thing to tell you was to LOOK , look, LOOK! at the FLOWERS on our vests, but I just think she is being a bit silly. Pilly is easily excited when you can get her to stop sucking her fingers for long enough to notice.

Love,

Gemma.

Periorbit.

Dear Internet,

It is Gemma ‘and do not add, subtract or amend anything to my name or ELSE because I am plain GEMMA without the plain in front of it’ here today and you MAY think you are just looking at pictures of Pilly who does insist on the ‘Miss’ in front of HER name and my brief self larking about in the back bedroom, but this is only because Mama says that she is too knackered to uploadey some new pictures of ME, me MEEEEEE.

Also, Mama says that while I was very clever indeed to grow a nice dose of periorbital cellulitis like that, she could do without taking me to the hostipal at 9am after nightshift to confirm with one of her colleagues that I have indeed grown a nice case of giant puffy shut-eyed periorbital cellulitis.

I thought the hostipal was fun and I made lots of new friends and told them ALL about My Eye and I likes the pink medicine and today, four days later, I can actually see you with both eyes again. Not that THAT minor matter stopped me from zooming about at Tiny Pirate Minus The Patch warp speed, anyway.

Periorbital cellulitis is jolly fun and I think I’d like to have it again someday, if that is allowed, Internet.

Love,

Gemma.

Twenty O’Clock.

Dear Internet,

it is Miss Pilly here and these pictures are a little on the fuzzy side on accounts of Playroom! Excitement.

You can see the Flappy Blur on my extremities if you looks hard enough, you know.

But I shall stop to show you My Bee if you asks nicely. I also have a Secret Box, but you can’t see that because it is My Secret.

Sometimes it is so secret I forgets where I left it and THEN I haves to ask Mama for help.

Anyways, despite what Gemgems always proclaims to be the time after consulting her wristwatch (the oddly non-functional but very rattly one without any hands as such), it may be twenty o’clock somewhere but it is bedtime HERE.

Love,

Pilly.

Grey Matter.

 Dear Internet,

It’s Miss Gemma here and I MAY be looking very serious, but bathtime is a serious matter.

Just ask my rubber ducky.

Or Lily, except that SHE never takes bathtime with anywhere near the seriousness it deserves. She SPLASHES, Internet.

Anyway, I just decided to write to you from my cot that yes-I-still-love-to-sleep-in-at-three-years-old-thank-you-because-the-bars-keep-me-safe-from-night-monsters to tell you that bathtime is on temporary hiatus on accounts of Leak, and also there might just be a big hole in the plaster in the room behind as a result.

Mama says watch this space. She also says she’s enjoying our conversations more and more because we say many things  that are particularly cute in a three year old way and that, no, she won’t repeat them here on accounts of someday we shall find out and be miffed.

Love,

Gemma.

Sister.

 Dear Internet,

Don’t laugh, but I think Gemma may have shrunk in the wash.

I don’t know how it happened, I swear it had nothing to do with ME in any way, we were just playing around strapping ourselves into our carseats in Mama’s bedroom (as you do) and I turned around and THIS happened.

She can grows again, right?

Anyway, so I may not be entirely serious in the paragraphs above, but that is Okay because I am THREE now and I gets that sometimes you can say things you don’t quite mean just for fun.

I also love to tell Gemma how much I love her, usually AFTER I have run off with something she treasures, and give her big cuddles because that is a very good way of getting Out Of Hot Water.

So is saying ‘SOOOOORRRRYYYYEEEYYYYYYY!!’ with suspicious chirpiness and CheesyGrins.

Actually, Mama says that THAT one is wearing rather thin and to be honest she does press me to say what I am sorry FOR and mostly I just shrugs and exclaim ‘I don’t know!’ equally chirpily.

 Perhaps I have a way to go on apologising properly because apparently sounding like you might mean it is a good place to start.

Anyway, Gemma and I had a fabulous birthday party yesterday and it was so much fun and we wanted to say a huge THANK YOU for coming and playing with our toys and helping us be all three and stuff.

Love,

Pillymonster.

Birthday!

Dear Internet,

It’s Lily and Gemma (who will categorically NOT accept Peanut, Honey, Sweetpea, Gemmaguts, Titch or any other form of endearment because the proper and correct name to use is GEMMA) here and guess what?

We’re all three and stuff.

Mama says that explains the hour long tantrum somebody just chucked quite nicely. Down to the snivelling and running nose and red eyebrows. Over sock choice.

Anyway, WE wanted to put such trivial matters aside and tell you that because we are Big Girls now, our reasoning and conversations are duly improving. Rapidly.

Even if we HAVE been known to argue back and forth for forty minutes over which of us can claim to be the boy (answer: both of us if one of us wants it and it is therefore nebulously desirable). 

Happy birthday to us,

Love,

Pilly and Gemgems who is waiting impatiently for Cakey.

PS. Aunty Jen in America- our present arrived today in perfect timing and our Mama says the shirts are so very clever and she says thank you so much and very lots and they are beautiful.

Wardrobe.

Dear Internet,

It is Miss Pilly of the ever-increasing-in-complexity vocabulary and reasoning here today and I must firstly point out that now I can tell you not only WHAT I want, but explain WHY you should give it to me immediately if not sooner, pout at the critical juncture and then remind you repeatedly if you fail to follow my suggestions.

Also, I will send Gemma to the Naughty Corner myself if I feel it is warranted.

Mama says that, sadly, she mostly has to disagree with my pronouncements in that department because Gemma merely being in the same room and accidentally touching me does NOT count as hitting and there is no need to dish out punishment for inadvertent personal space breeches.

If it helps any, Internet, I do love Gemma lots and lots because who else would I play ‘HIDING!’ with under the dining table with a blankie over our heads for hours on end? It’s funny, but Mama never can seem to find us no matter how loudly we may be giggling at the time.

Anyway the other thing I wanted to tell you is that K3 is a girl baby and that Mama says she should buy the shares in something or other I don’t understand called ’kotex’ for about ten year’s time in our house NOW.

Personally, I just think that baby K3 is lucky to inherit a 50 percent dribble-free wardrobe and if none of it fits that is all K3′s fault for being silly enough to choose to be born in the complete opposite season to US.

Love,

Pilly.

K3.

Dear Internet,

It is Miss Pilly here and I might be looking slightly disgruntled with Gemmaguts in the above picture but she wasn’t sharing her puffies, Internet.

Surely that is rude because after all I am biggerer than her and am also a certified Garbage Guts™.

It takes a lot of Garbage Gutsing to keep up with all the Larking, you know.

Besides, if anybody should have been looking unhappy, it should have been Gemma. That purple headband was trying to eat her ears and we ALL know about Gemgems Ears.

It’s lucky she has hair these days, Internet.

Love,

Pilly and Gemmauts and K3. This is K3:

Mama says that despite our protests it will be a while before the baby can come out and play with us. Also, excuse the towels.

Slide.

 Dear Internet,

It is Miss Pilly here and this post MAY be all about me and my tartan but somebody considerably shorter than me who I can’t see on accounts of I am deciding not to look down right now does keep on trying to chime in.

Something about going down the big red slide today about a billion times on her B-M, I think it is.

Internet, I think she meant to insert a few more letterers between the ‘B’ and the ‘M’ and spell ‘bottom’, so I am going to pretend Gemma just did point out that we went on the Big Red Slide on our bottoms AND on our bellies a big many lot times today.

Dada says thank goodness for indoor playcentres on rainy days.

Anyway, I have to be going now on accounts of Bedtime but I also wanted to point out to the person in the shops who said ‘They aren’t twins are they? That one looks older and has all different hair!’ that, yes, we are twins and I am older by a whole minute and do indeed have different hair.

Mama says that some people are either extremely observant or probably not at all.

Lily.