Sam Drops in

My sister is only 15 months younger than me, and has always been my best friend. My go-to girl. All my childhood memories have Sam in them (like when we made up a continuing dance that went for one whole side of the Sweet and Sour soundtrack and wouldn't let Mum get up from the couch between songs, or when we ran a cafe together in our twenties and Sam pulled a one-kilo bucket of beetroot on top of her head during the lunch rush.)

We've lived together or close by for almost all our adult lives but when we had babies- at almost exactly at the same time - we ended up living six hours apart. She's now my woman in Cowra, and on the end of the phone, where our conversations always end with a sudden 'oops, gotta go.'

She dropped in last weekend with her husband and two little girls. Isabelle is only 3 months younger than Ivy and looks like her twin, and Zoe is 4 months younger than Ted and shares his barrel shape and mellow vibe.

Ivy and Belle shared a room and took forever to get to sleep.


It was the night of their little lives.

Here they are at the counter, looking cheeky. Ted is about to climb on top to get to the cheese (his favourite gag.)

And lucky me, a giant cuddle puddle with my favourite little peeps.

Ivy is wearing what she calls her ballet-tard,Ted is waving a fairy wand, and Belle, for reasons known only to her, is sporting a horses head around her neck. (Not as scary as last week,when Keith and I found that head in Ivy's bed.)

We played Whats The Time, Mr Wolf? and Duck, Duck, Goose and Sam wondered if it was entirely healthy that the kids bath toys are an old breast pump and a neti pot. I had never thought about it before, but her job has always been to point out my weirdnesses.