Shattered

Dear Hamster,

Today was shattering. Literally.

While I understand the need to explore the world around you, rampant destruction and uncontrolled chaos seem to be more your genre for the week.

I revelled in your excitement at pulling the petals off daisies (he loves me, he loves me, he loves me....) and your joy at splashing outdoors in a bucket of water as you cooled off from the heat. Your squeals of joy as you chased the cat were musical.

I felt the need to capture the moment for posterity and indeed I now have many memories fixed in static images of a life that is rarely still.

Your father and I should have known better. Sunglasses do not belong on the ground. Not even when lying on the soft grass in the botanic gardens. Apparently they inspire tap-dancing (of the variety not practised by Fred and Ginger, but more the musical 'Stomp'). Cameras do not belong on tables. 17 month olds do not belong on chairs.

My eyes in the back of my head appear to be in need of glasses. So does my camera, its body and vision shattered by a throw to the ground. Apparently the noise it created was such a good one, that it required amplification with a second throw from a greater height.

My darling boy, while you may never have a career in a bar, balancing trays of precariously placed wine glasses (you may have inherited our genetic lack of coordination there), you may go well in olympic shot-put, demolition or other noise-making industries.

But now you lie quietly asleep, with the hint of a smile on your gently pursed lips and I can take a deep breath in, laugh now you aren't looking and try and muster the same level of energy that you have for life.

I hope the insurance company will find this as amusing as we did....

xoxo