There’s a certain wisdom that comes with living thirty-one years in a world where you have little control – especially in a world as small as The Girl’s. Thirty-one years teaches you that repetition brings certainty, that home is your sanctuary, and that if you can’t eat it, play it, or laugh at it, it probably wasn’t worth having.
It’s given me a few insights on the way The Girl views the world; what she believes, what she’s learnt. When you’re The Girl, thirty-one years have taught you this:
That the ultimate compliment you can be paid is when the doctor tells says you have a “giant tummy.”
That the words “Plinkity-plonk” and anything rhyming with it are the most hilarious things, no matter how many times you hear it or who says it.
That the nurses at Southern Cross Hospital are thrilled that you called them Miss Piggy.
That seashells have a diverse range of tastes, regardless how long they’ve been dried and sitting it a glass jar with a variety of others.
That caterpillars are responsible for the shrieking, squawking noises at the beginning of the song, Caterpillar Girl by The Cure.
That people who fall down, trip over or drop their grocery bags do it simply for the amusement of others.
That the natural order of things demands that the red crayons are eaten first and the green ones are left until last.
That buying a CD you already own minimizes risk because you already know you like it.
That hairstyles are freely available in supermarkets.
That Valentines Family Restaurant is the last word in fine dining.
That there is nothing like the music section of The Warehouse for retail therapy; or the video store for entertainment.
That a Playstation 3 controller can control any device including the dog.
That having a magazine without scissors is like having lemonade without the bubbles.
That there is no meal an onion won’t enhance.
That, despite what the song says, daisies are there to be picked and eaten.
That wasps, on the other hand, are not.
That personal growth and creative freedom can be achieved with pasta and glue.
That there’s no yesterday, today or tomorrow. There’s only now.
That Grandma Lea never left us. She still lives in her house where things are still “Funny as a fight,” and the man down the road is still a “Rum old codger” and The Girl is still “Grandma’s Scamp!”
That people we love don’t die, they just go to England; and if they’re lucky, a few make it back.
That there is nothing a Band Aid can’t fix.
That tummy ache is a fact of life – it just varies in degree from day to day.
That blood tests leave you with broken veins.
That pills are a natural part of breakfast.
That every day the world becomes a little more unstable and you have to hang onto anything close at hand in case it topples you over.
That insulin injections and finger pricks come with sun up and sun down.
That Mummy will never leave, no matter what. That’s one The Girl can count on.
Maybe we could all learn lessons here.