Baby’s first broken window. We should probably take a proud-parent picture and add it to the album, but I don’t think Sarah would approve since it gave her the fright of her life. On the plus side of it all, we now know two things: first that Oscar is going to one day represent Australia in the shotput event- seriously, one good fling from his high chair and his cup went straight through the kitchen window- and also that he takes after his father.
I had the record for broken windows back when we used to live in Christmas Hills, and so far as I know it’s never been broken. I didn’t start quite as young as Oscar, but back when I was about two I chucked my Dad’s British Bulldog statue right through the window in the garage. No one in Christmas Hills did window repair; Melbourne people had to be called in, and it was a bit of a drive for them. Some people don’t count that one since I was still too young to understand the concept of a window and why being able to see through it doesn’t mean objects will just pass through unimpeded. That’s a lie, though. I was a wily child with a craving for destruction, and those were just my humble beginnings.
They tend to all blur together, but I do remember that my next conquest was the banana factory at the other end of the park. Aiden Curry told us all that it was secretly a government facility where they experimented on aliens and sometimes kids if they could get away with it, and I couldn’t let that one slide. Best throw of my life, an overripe pear right through one of the top windows. Got in big trouble for that one.
That one really set me off, and after then it was a steady chain of impulsive decisions ending in calling the window replacement people, who got to know my parents and gave us discounts in the end. Still…record holder.
Speaking of which, we need some of the ol’ Melbourne aluminium window repair for us. If Oscar is that much like me, it won’t be the last time.