MARY POPPINS, TUMBLE TURNS AND NEAR-PERFECT DAYS

Today was one of those rare, magnificent days.

Miss Q and I awoke, not too early, not too late and had a morning visit from one of her Uncles, which saw her smiling and singing by 7.30am.

The three of us mooched up to her father’s cafe to join a friend for breakfast where Q threw egg, rockmelon and vegemite toast about the place while listening to her pterodactyl noise echo off the walls.

Food and singing. What more could a girl need.

Q and I ambled home a bit later and she explored the grass while I hung out the washing.

Then, like a perfect child, took a nap for AN HOUR AND A HALF!!!

Not that I was there to enjoy such free time, as I was busy being cut by the important people behind the casting desk at the replacement call for Mary Poppins.

As if auditions aren’t hard enough without having to also be the same height, size, voice type and abilities as whomever it is they’re trying to replace.

So I’ve decided the person leaving is a short, big boobed, tightrope-walking soprano and that’s why they cut me.

It couldn’t possibly be because I wasn’t good enough.

How absurd.

Miss Q napping meant I couldn’t do a warm up, so I walked into the audition and serenaded the traffic as I crossed the Anzac Bridge.

Sun shining, water glistening, air warm and not-too-polluted and there I was singing my songs at the top of my lungs.

Knowing that my baby girl was sleeping at home makes that scenario nigh on perfect.

After the not-so-perfect audition I returned home to hear the divine Miss Q chatting away to our family-friend-landlord-Q-sitter, telling him everything that was on her mind.

Turns out they’d had a delightful couple of hours. They’d returned to Gregory’s café for lunch where this time she’d decorated the floor and walls with avocado on toast, plain yoghurt and a few stray bits of apple.

They’d played on the floor – well, Q writhed about, tried to crawl and generally made a grab for everything dangerous or inappropriate.

They’d gone for a walk, Miss Q pushed along in her chariot, waving at everyone she passes as she still assumes the whole world revolves around her.

And – of course - they’d done lots of talking. 

Q always has a fair bit to say.

After I inhaled some lunch and our family-friend-landlord-Q-sitter returned downstairs, Q and I headed over to the local pool for a swim.

A delightful walk along the bay run to get there, Miss Q napping peacefully under her hat while we did, and a good forty-five minutes practicing our tumble turns in the baby pool.

We are so ready for next year’s Olympics.

A lovely sun drenched walk home, Miss Q threw her dinner about while I prepared ours, a bath where she told her fish and duck friends about her swim, a lengthy feed and bed.

Yeah sure, I got another rejection (if you combine my literary and musical ones I think that makes the fifth for the past week alone).

But it was a magnificent day, my girl is just about the coolest thing I could ever imagine and every moment we share together fills my heart with more joy and happiness than any opening night or publishing deal ever could.

It’d still be nice to test the theory though...