The night before the night before the night before Christmas

Twas the night before the night before the night before Christmas, and all through the Fibro, not a creature was stirring… not even me, who should be, at the very least, wrapping presents. Instead, I’m eating festive red and green M&Ms and confessing my favourite karaoke tunes on Facebook. If that’s not going to give me a virtual hangover tomorrow morning, I don’t know what is…

I had big plans for my last post of the year. I could have done a Four-Corners-style ‘Year In Review’, with a month by month overview of Life In A Pink Fibro. Could have.

I could have done a Sunrise-style montage, little vignettes of the year that was, set to some kind of heart-wrenching, soul-soaring soundtrack. Could have.

Instead, I’m just going to say thanks for hanging out in the Fibro with me this year. I love it when you pop in to say hi and drink coffee. You are my very favourite style of visitor – the ones you don’t have to clean up for – and I thoroughly enjoy your company.

It’s been a big year, and 2012 is shaping up to be even bigger (even if Alla Hoo Hoo has moved to Sydney). Can’t wait to share it with you.

I’ll be back on Sunday January 8, 2012, full of beans and blogging mojo. For sure. I hope that your Christmas and New Year festivities are wonderful and that you also get as much sleep as you need. I have about a year’s worth to catch up on, so wish me luck!

In the meantime, there’s only one question left to ask…

What’s your favourite karaoke tune? The song you bring out every time to bring the house down (or not)? Mine (after several thousand beers) is Son of A Preacher Man by Dusty Springfield. I know. I’m nuts!

Imaginary friends: Another reason to blog

Did you know that children with imaginary friends retain knowledge faster than other children, are more sociable and more creative? So when they disappear, questions are required.

In case you haven’t been introduced, Alla Hoo Hoo is Mr4’s imaginary friend. She appeared in the Fibro about a year ago, and teaches him all sorts of things. She wears a brown dress and ‘big’ shoes. She rides a motorbike, has a purple forklift, is a member of the SES, has a fluctuating number of children (anywhere between four and 98, depending on the day), and is, apparently, married to a pizza. You can see how her presence would be missed.

I decided to probe.

“So, where’s Alla Hoo Hoo these days?” I asked. (I am nothing if not subtle.)

“Oh, she moved to Sydney,” said Mr4. Unconcerned. Completely.

“Will she come back? Is she just visiting? Why did she move?” Concerned. Completely.

He looks at me. “I don’t need her anymore, Mum.”

And with that, she’s gone. Replaced by his friends at preschool and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I’m not quite sure what effect this will have on his knowledge retention, sociability and creativity, but I know that I’ll miss her.

And if I ever question the value of my blog for Fam Fibro, I will think of Alla Hoo Hoo. Without this blog, our future conversations may go like this: ‘Remember how Mr18 used to have that imaginary friend when he was four? What was her name?’. Instead, she will forever be remembered as a big-shoe-wearing, motor-bike-riding, bushwalking, evil genius.

See. There’s knowledge retained, right there.

When your imaginary friend is an evil genius, eat popcorn

Alla Hoo Hoo, Mr4’s imaginary friend, has been very quiet for a while. No parties. No forklift. Not even mention of the 98 children. Mr4 tells me that this is because she is working on a “very big, very super new invention”.

Intrigued, I asked him what she is inventing.

“A popcorn maker,” he replied. “And she’s making it out of boxes. In a special workshop on the other side of the world.”

“But we already have a perfectly functioning popcorn maker (named Cornelius),” I said. “How will Alla Hoo Hoo’s be different?”

He thought. “It’s broken,” he replied.

She is clever that Ms Hoo Hoo. Instead of building an incredibly small window of functional operation into the device’s planned obsolescence (as most electrical appliances appear to have), she has decided to skip that step all together and take us directly to the point where we must buy a new popcorn maker as soon as we leave the shop with the one we just bought. Sheer evil genius.

I can see why she’s been so quiet.

The Chronicles of Alla Hoo Hoo (Part V)

Alla Hoo Hoo and Mr3 have been doing some bushwalking. Apparently, they went to Bushwalking School, where they learned to watch out for snakes. The school is under a tree, down a path. They take water bottles and snacks. They have buried treasure in the bush, but they haven’t made a treasure map yet so they don’t know where it is.

Alla Hoo Hoo is not a natural bushwalker. She only goes because Mr3 likes it so much.

“She’s my friend, so she does what I like to do,” he told me.

I asked what Ms Hoo Hoo wears on these adventures, knowing her penchant for dresses and big shoes.

“She wears she’s dress,” he said. “She has a special green one for bushwalking. But she doesn’t wear her shoes with the stands on them. They would be too hard to walk in.”

She’s got smarts, that imaginary friend.

I asked what else they’d learned at Bushwalking School. He thought for a moment.

“You never go without telling someone,” he said.

So sensible. Once again I found myself wondering how imaginary this friend is. Then again, he wouldn’t really have gone bushwalking with her without telling me, now would he?

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