Kiwi ragamuffins

I am steadily helping our family to build a scruffy, gypsy (Romeni), dirty reputation. Yesterday it was very hot (muggy) and Silas was given a bucket and spade by a generous stranger. The only sand we have nearby is at the park so we headed there. So did a large crowd of sun-loving, presumably retired Italians who in the middle of a weekday afternoon, were decked out in bikinis and speedos, catching some autumn sun and chatting cheerfully with each other. Have you ever seen this in NZ????

Anyway – the sand playing was great entertainment but it progressed to paddling in the lake until the clothes were all wet, the gumboots water logged and the kids were sitting chest deep in the water. They were squealing and running around and inventing all sorts of happy games between them while the Italians watched on with amazement and some mirth. I failed to notice the ‘do not swim in the lake’ sign.

The session ended with both boys racing home on their bikes, wearing only wet undies and sodden gumboots with their mother in hot pursuit. Pretty much everyone we passed thought the sight was hilarious – our little comedy duo performs again!

The day before, again hot, we headed to a nearby fountain in a small square. I took the boys togs and a towel and let them run back and forth, laughing and playing for a very happy hour. The old lady beside us politely enquired if we were Romena ( eg from Romania) which was her way of checking whether we did deserve the gypsy status she was giving us. When I explained we were from Nuova Zealanda, she looked surprised and smiled – so I guess I just tarnished the kiwi reputation as well.