Long days of sunshine. Green shoots. Earthworms dancing in the soil. If you’re new to…
At 7.17pm I received a text from a fifteen-year-old cancer patient (who I regard as my third daughter), apologising for keeping my daughter and her friend an extra two minutes in her hospital room. We’d just picked up the giraffe-themed beanies knitted by the mother-in-law of the friend who started knitting them for us but went into premature labour at 29 weeks and was put on total bed rest.
We were parked in a taxi bay with people flashing their lights at us for this crime, outside the Canberra Hospital with my toddler son kicking the back of the seat while my Directioner yelled STOP IT and I’M STARVING and my husband texted me RE the pan-fried veal with mushroom cream sauce that he was expertly creating for us at home, which I was thankful for, and which was becoming progressively cold, asserting itself as an emblem of First World Problems…
I know, he’s dead. But he’s so very alive in his deadliness, don’t you think?
Those who watched the show (if you don’t know what I mean, just flick to another article) will understand why I say that “Come on, watch it with me!” was possibly not the best idea for the thirteen-year-old daughter…
There were Orgasm Parties.
My parents might read this. I have to be careful…
The point is, Offspring is the BOMB. The reality of last night was…well. I can’t even …(That’s a cool phrase that teens and trendy columnists use, although in this case it actually encapsulates the fact that I CANNOT EVEN say how amazing the episode was.)
Grief. Hope. Humour. LIFE.
That opening scene, where she was lying on the bed with Zoe, talking to her about the last six months…Well, I had my three-and-a-half year old editorialsing that for me:
“And then you went into the kitchen with the baby…And then you chased around the room. And then you went back to where you came from”(the bed).”
The bit where Martin Clegg said he missed Patrick’s games of squash (as opposed to fencing with the new guy), should have been just so poignant, but my son said “I miss Duncan. My Brother. I miss fighting with him with lightsabers…”
Children should be BANNED from such things! I can’t even cry at this rate. I can’t sit there and cheer out loud that the writers threw in a delicious diversion with the whole Lawrence/Billie Furphy. (I mean to say, that love-triangle scene at the coffee shop with Dead Patrick and Nina and Lawrence. That was GOLD!)
So. New rules.
My kids have to be in bed at 8.29pm on Wednesday nights.
I really don’t care what goes on during other, less important evenings…the thing is, I CANNOT, repeat CANNOT be watching scenes like the “hand over the ghost hand on the handle of the pram”scene with anyone but fanatics…
I am chief fanatic. Self-appointed.
Let’s face it, I practically begged Amanda to run this article because she apparently doesn’t even WATCH Offspring?