Search and Rescue
My very talented mum always had one cupboard in her kitchen that all children were allowed to open, the “Tupperware” cupboard, and it was always in a mess. I remenber my many cousins, my little baby brother, my nephew and even my Little Butterfly having a rumble in that cupboard. They would leave “Tupperware” scattered on the kitchen floor for all and sundry to kick or trip over till it was thrown back in higgledy piggledy, ready for the next tiny fingered invasion. I recall my mum struggling to find the matching lids for certain sets and then giving up the search and just using any lid that fit. To this day it is seldom that you find a bowl with its matching lid in use in her fridge. Something unique to my very talented mum!
Having witnessed the fun that was had in that cupboard I have adopted the same policy in my teeny tiny little kitchen in our humble abode at the end of the world. Little Butterfly is allowed to play with anything in that cupboard. I try desperately to keep it reasonably tidy but seem never to be able to keep up with little fingers. I, unlike my very talented mum, cannot abide using things that are mismatched and have on numerous occasions repacked my “Tupperware” cupboard enable me to find one matching lid.
Then I began to notice that things were going missing completely and I now had lids without bottoms and bottoms without lids. It was all very infuriating as I ensured that only full sets were packed when we embarked on our journey to our new life at the end of the world. So, having been woken by my muse in the small dark hours of the morning, when I was able to not only finally finish a poem that has laid unfinished for weeks, but also speak to my mum at home and my delightful sister-in-law in Los Angeles on that marvellous invention called Skype, I was left with more time on my hands than usual. Having finished all housewife like chores I embarked on a mission to seek out the hiding places of the missing lids and bottoms, and confront the culprit responsible for this mystery. I enlisted the help of a somewhat disinterested Butterfly and commenced with the search beginning, it seemed sensible, with tiding the cupboard. Having informed myself of the amount, colour and shape of lids and bottoms that had gone “AWOL” I then crawled about on all fours searching underneath all stationery furniture and appliances.
I was to be instantaneously successful and triumphantly recovered a lid from under the fridge and one of the Mauritian’s $1600 speakers. All this while been attacked by an overzealous Butterfly who was tremendously amused by her mother’s shenanigans. I went on to discover plates under Little Butterfly’s cot, cups in her toy box and jelly moulds in a pair of the Mauritian’s running shoes. I rescued two milk jugs, a bowl, its matching lid and one of Butterfly’s “sippy” cups from bath time toy duty and resurrected a set of measuring cups that had been buried in one of our flower beds with the aid of a set of measuring spoons used to dig their grave. Singing my victory song I headed back to base camp marching to the beat of the drums in my head and the giggles of my two year old where I lovingly washed my errant plastic ware and returned them to their rightful place in my “Tupperware” cupboard.
Having witnessed the fun that was had in that cupboard I have adopted the same policy in my teeny tiny little kitchen in our humble abode at the end of the world. Little Butterfly is allowed to play with anything in that cupboard. I try desperately to keep it reasonably tidy but seem never to be able to keep up with little fingers. I, unlike my very talented mum, cannot abide using things that are mismatched and have on numerous occasions repacked my “Tupperware” cupboard enable me to find one matching lid.
Then I began to notice that things were going missing completely and I now had lids without bottoms and bottoms without lids. It was all very infuriating as I ensured that only full sets were packed when we embarked on our journey to our new life at the end of the world. So, having been woken by my muse in the small dark hours of the morning, when I was able to not only finally finish a poem that has laid unfinished for weeks, but also speak to my mum at home and my delightful sister-in-law in Los Angeles on that marvellous invention called Skype, I was left with more time on my hands than usual. Having finished all housewife like chores I embarked on a mission to seek out the hiding places of the missing lids and bottoms, and confront the culprit responsible for this mystery. I enlisted the help of a somewhat disinterested Butterfly and commenced with the search beginning, it seemed sensible, with tiding the cupboard. Having informed myself of the amount, colour and shape of lids and bottoms that had gone “AWOL” I then crawled about on all fours searching underneath all stationery furniture and appliances.
I was to be instantaneously successful and triumphantly recovered a lid from under the fridge and one of the Mauritian’s $1600 speakers. All this while been attacked by an overzealous Butterfly who was tremendously amused by her mother’s shenanigans. I went on to discover plates under Little Butterfly’s cot, cups in her toy box and jelly moulds in a pair of the Mauritian’s running shoes. I rescued two milk jugs, a bowl, its matching lid and one of Butterfly’s “sippy” cups from bath time toy duty and resurrected a set of measuring cups that had been buried in one of our flower beds with the aid of a set of measuring spoons used to dig their grave. Singing my victory song I headed back to base camp marching to the beat of the drums in my head and the giggles of my two year old where I lovingly washed my errant plastic ware and returned them to their rightful place in my “Tupperware” cupboard.
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