It has been a week of triumphs for our little girl. After a week of her mother trying to gently remind her of the inherited absence of athletic ability, she again proved me wrong by coming third in her class in the cross country. I don't want to be a Negative Nellie, but they really have to be the least coordinated bunch of little girls I have ever seen stumble around an oval.
Anzac Day was lovely this year. Our local parade was held at the civilised hour of 7:30 am. Not quite Dawn Service time, but still sufficiently cool and shady to avoid the traditional fainting of the Air Cadets that was so entertaining when I was a Girl Guide. The march travelled down a very popular cafe lined street, filled with breakfasting parents. As we straggled past with our cooling Coffee Club Mochaccinoes I commented to Brett that next year we should book a table and do this properly.
The girls had a lovely time.
And a picture of the memorial and wreaths. It was a lovely service. The kids befriended a sweet little old lady who was clearly thrilled that the community cared so much about the sacrifice her generation had made for those of the future.