So, it’s Phee’s birthday tomorrow. She’s turning 7 and like any 6 year and 364 day year old she’s pretty bloody excited. So much so that long before sunrise this morning I was woken to the sound of Phee telling all of her stuffed toys (a whole top bunk full) that someone’s birthday was coming up very soon. For such a little girl she has such a loud voice.
“Phoebe” I say.
Quiet. Then it begins again, a loud whisper that rises in volume.
“Phoebe” I grump again.
Quiet. Then a softer loud whisper before the only force that can stop a little girl in its tracks kicks in.
Her mother. “Phoebe be quiet!”.
Phoebe’s all over Melbourne suddenly fell silent.
And then the cat began to meow.