My dad is home with my brother and me. Around lunch we make block cities and buildings for hours. We scream at dad when he doesn't award the winning city, "they are both equally special and well constructed!" he reasons. He sets up big pieces of paper and hangs them from the windows. We go through a whole book of big yellow A3, drawing pictures of anything we like, until it's dark outside and we can't see the paper clearly. Mum comes home and we eat dinner together, telling her all about our pictures one by one.
My dad lets me take a whole day off school to go to an art exhibition in the city, he says experiences are sometimes better than school. I'm a bit bored but try to be super smart to impress my dad. We buy postcards and stickers, have lunch together and he discusses what makes a good artist. We go home on the train.
We're at Wilson's Prom (a big national reserve, full of beaches and mountains). I get a fishing line suck in my foot and dad bravely pulls it out for me, then helps me walk home, and puts antiseptic and a bandaid. I am impressed by his bravery and ability to fix anything.
We are on an urban adventure in rural Victoria. The whole family has a picnic in a ginormous 'Tree Museum', full of trees from around the world. For lunch we go to the local shops and pick out one treat each. My little brother gets a book mark, and me a purple semi-precious stone. We drive home playing 'Guess the Object' using flowers and are hysterical when mum guesses hellebore because it sounds exactly like "hell-it-bores-us".
My dad always used to try and teach us valueable things. For bedtime stories we read 'The Velveteen Rabbit' 'Animal Farm' 'The Trojan Horse', the poems of William Blake and Biblical stories. He taught me about finding morals in stories and about questioning everything. I remember proudly proclaiming that I knew what a simile and metaphor was in grade 3. Sure!