Opinion: Musings of a feisty wombat

Karen Hancock moved to Karratha about 10 years ago with one boyfriend, two cats, a dog and one baby boy. She now has five boys, including her husband, one cat, two dogs, a galah, and numerous fish.

Closer to forty than thirty she fights in the battle against grey hairs and wrinkles daily.

She enjoys hunting for muddy puddles, tropical storms, wrestling her children and laundry.

A life without red dirt or the beautiful rainbow coloured Pilbara hills now seems boring to her, and city life too busy and grey.

Karen fell into writing when the local paper asked her to write this column detailing the bizarre aspects to family life as she continues to try and figure out this whole parenting biz.

I tend to be quite involved in my children’s schooling.

Some might call it over-involved, but I like to think of it as enthusiastically involved.

I am often there with spare jumpers at recess, dropping off late lunches, using my magic spit finger to clean faces and helping out where needed.

I am [|super] lucky [|that] my children are still at the stage of being excited to see me.

I hear cries of “Hey that’s my mum” and see cheery little faces with hands madly waving at me.

I love it, but [|But] I [|also] know my days of being welcomed into their school environment are numbered.

When one of the boys was in pre-primary, his class had a circus day. There were all sorts of circus-related activities and [|while chatting with his teacher] I had an amazing idea.

We had a [|wee little] ginger kitten at home [|and] who would make the most perfect circus lion.

I promptly went home and stitched him [|up] a furry mane [|to wear] and dressed in my finest tutu and admiral jacket.

I arrived and quickly got all of the little people into a circle.

I told them [|my fantastic news,] we had found a lion and I was going to bring it in for show and tell.

Their little faces lit up with anticipation and wonderment.

I had to give them some important information first.

[|though.]

You see having a lion in the classroom can be quite dangerous.

I told them [|that] I wasn’t too sure when he had last eaten so [|that] they probably shouldn’t look him in the eye [|it into his eyes] or he might just see them as a delicious treat.

[|And as any responsible adult would do]

I then showed them a crouching position to get into if the lion did attack, and reminded them to cover their heads [|with their little arms] to protect themselves.

At this point some of them started to look a little fearful.

[|I told them it would be all okay and I was sure they would be safe.]

One little girl was heard mumbling, “I don’t want to see the lion”.

I then called for my helper to bring in our fantastic beast.

Out jumped our little Kitty-Lion with his mane flowing gloriously.

Squeals of delight and relief could be heard from all corners of the room.

Kitty-Lion jumped through [|hula] hoops and performed perfectly.

[|And] I am happy to report that no child was eaten or harmed in the performance.

And in true form, my eldest child was outraged the lion didn’t come to his classroom too.