When it comes to a sense of smell, little Ivy May can sit in her soiled nappies all day long and not give a whiff. She's would be perfectly happy holidaying next to a sewerage works. But Sense of sound is a different matter. Like an apache listening to the approach of the cavalry, she can sense a plane overhead long before it hits Parramatta, mum and dad tiptoeing to the toilet at 4 in the morning and little big ears has acknowledged that squeaky floorboard before we can whisper an expletive. Her latest thing is to put her ear to the ground like she's in some crap 1950's western. 
But she's definitely coming along in leaps and bounds. Pulling herself up, crawling like a demon, squealing like the beatles just rocked into town when we we sing along to our favourite wiggles anthem. The contribution Toot toot chugga chugga big red car has made to modern music I feel has been underestimated.
There I was sitting on a a comfy bench in Parliament house on February 13, national laugh at John Howard day, when Kevin 07 saunters along, fires off a quick joke to myself and colleague Martin before heading on his way to sign the sorry declaration. We were on a whistle-stop tour of all the channel ten newsrooms (Brisbane, Melbourne, Canberra) and were hoping to film the prime minister in action. His infamous "you blokes on strike or something " line hilarious for the fact that we were'nt actually filming him but instead lazing around on the couch people watching. But what people watching it was... first came Julia Gillard with her proud parents on either arm... she gave me a big smile, then came Julie Bishop, 3 generations of Mclellands, Bob Brown, and then mid conversation with Martin he gets distracted and mutters a hey Bobby how ya going as if just running into a long lost friend delivered in his finest Cronulla accent. It was of course Bob Hawke, who as I later found had no idea who Martin was. This was due to the fact they had never met and Martin had fallen for the whole I recognise you and I'll absentmindedly say hello and then realise afterwards that I don't actually know you. But back to Kevin's little joke. 
Yep that's right but I'm sure she'll have the last laugh when in twenty years time I'll be a fat old dad and technology has completely bypassed blogging where with one click of her fingers she can she can change her baby aspect ratio quicker than she can say keep those dad jokes coming stupid old fat dad.
Lucky she's so cute
It's just happened to strangely coincide with the day I was flicking through my mothers birth book which was written by my Grandmother in 1929. And like some kind of weird time capsule it has transported me back in time linking me with two generations past. According to grandmother Eileen, Mother Sylvia muttered her first da da da's at aged 9 months... I'vy's come in at 7 and a half months ( yet another example of the genius child we're raising)
