An Island Off an Island

Dear Friends,

Ruby here seeking some clarification. The word ‘we’ is used frequently at #87 to describe our little family, ie Mum, Dad and ME. I like the concept, it expresses the egalitarian nature of our happy home.

We are all registered with authorities as living at this address; we are all included on Christmas cards ‘Dear Jan, Marcus and Ruby’; we all have our own personal floatation devices for use in an emergency evacuation; and all three of us write on this blog ( though it is generally accepted that my style and content is superior).

Can I then ask why when WE were gifted a lovely wedge of orange cake last week by Aunty Claire, none was forthcoming in my direction although I am sure that was the intent of the giver. I watched the Tupperware it was housed in with an eagle eye. My cake tastebuds were further tantalised on Friday morning when Mum whipped up a ginger sponge with lemon glaze to take to the Bruny Island Historical Society Christmas Party. When she left it to cool while she went dunking I thought all my Christmases had come at once – until she built a barricade around it that even Super-Rube couldn’t conquer. So I waited.

Patience is a virtue my friends and it, together with an innocent demeanour, is something I have in spades. Mum came home from dunking and sliced and plated the sponge cake ready to head to her party. She popped some in the Tupperware for Dad who was off-island shopping (nice touch), together with the last piece of orange cake. I feigned disinterest and snuggled down in my chair.

Lulled into a false sense of security, and knowing that Dad was close to being home, Mum decided to let this doggy enjoy her slumber. No sooner was she down the drive than this tornado was in a desperate battle with the Tupperware. Result: Ruby 2( pieces of cake)/ Tupperware 0 ( well a few teeth marks which means it needs to be replaced). To give the Tupperware it’s due , it was an heroic fight.

Dad arrived home a little while later innocently thinking that I’d just consumed the orange cake, oblivious to the ginger number that Mum had left for him.

The moral to this story? M&D need to re-consider the concept of we. I would welcome your opinions ( unless they use terms like spoilt brat).

Christmas Greetings to you all,

Ruby