What is it with boys and holes?

We arrived in Dunsborough yesterday.  Perfect blue skies.  Perhaps slightly on the warm side.

The house we are staying in is on a bush block.  Tuart and Marri trees, some dying back.  Grasstrees (once known as Blackboys) abound, their fruiting spikes now dry and sometimes broken.  Prickly bushes in the low scrub. 

The decking out the front looks out through the bush, over the flats (once farmland, now housing estates) to Geographe Bay.  At night with the full moon, the bay gleams silver.

We go for a walk to look around the property and when we get back I find the patio umbrella and go to put it on the decking so we can sit in the shade and take in the birdsong.

There is a grasstree spike in the umbrella stand.


Hey some idiot has put a grasstree spike in the umbrella stand, I exclaim, never thinking for a second it would be one of my kids.

It was Hugamuga.  13 years old.

What were you thinking?  I say with some disbelief in my voice.

I dunno… it was there.

I throw my hands in the air. 

Well you’d better work out how to get it out of there, my boy, and while you’re there please reflect on the wisdom of filling holes with what comes to hand just because they are there.

If you do that when you start going out with girls, the consequences could be dire!

After all, there’s nothing like a little teenage embarrassment to drive a point home.

And you’ve got to admire my ability to get a sexual responsibility message across at every opportunity.  🙂

Creative Commons License photo credit: oceanic