The privileged two

 Our two girls are the most spoilt children I know.

Not literally spoilt as in 'ruined' or 'spoilt rotten'. How often we use the term with or without the 'rotten' after it without realising what it really means. If one of the girls is given a treat or gift I say 'aren't you spoilt?' What I mean is 'aren't you special (or loved)?'

So let me clarify, our girls are the most spoilt {special, loved and privileged} children I know. I'm biased of course. I hope you think the same of your little people.

I've always been so careful not to really spoil them. We don't buy lots of 'things' for them, especially plastic things. We have always been happy with pre-loved or hand-me-downs. We've managed (up until christmas just passed) to keep them 'latest free', latest technology, latest plastic collectables....etc.  Up until now its been elastics and hopscotch and paddle pools and fun with the hose, climbing trees is our favourite, collecting treasures and creating things with what we have.

But what makes them privileged is that they get to spend much of their time at my parents hobby farm 15 minutes from where we live.

Here they learn to grow things and cuddle baby goats and chickens and even ducks, cows and frogs!  There's an old quirky cubby and playground and old bikes to ride. But best of all there are Grandma and Granddad who love them and welcome them anytime for any amount of time (almost).  Grandma has oodles of patience and is ready to teach and watch and share things with the girls and with each of their 9 cousins.  She is always cooking or baking or gardening or sewing. She makes fresh goats fetta and extracts honey from her bees and when Granddad isn't at work he's milking and feeding working on new projects.

I often lament my time not spent there when busyness, energy or routine restrict it. I'll often go a month without getting down to the Mount Duneed property for a cuddle of the goats and a wander. Mum or Dad will always show me a latest addition (or sadly, subtraction) in the paddocks or a burst of growth in the veggie patches.  Its rejuvenating and inspiring, and each new season brings something different to enjoy.

I have vague memories of visiting my Oma and Opa in Tasmania when we were small and watching Opa milk his cow and drinking it for breakfast. I remember playing in a big sloping field with long grass and wild daisys and walking through long dry grass with my cousin and yelling a lot to ward off snakes.  

Our girls' memories will be just as special but far less fleeting as they grow up so close to their wonderful, almost self-sufficient Grandparents.

xoxo