Mad March: shopping, coins, parties

It's acceptable form to call March "Mad March".  A friend, ( I expected better) told me she'd been to the Premier's reception on Thursday night. "What for?" "Oh, he has a party for Mad March". 

The night before I'd gone to the Paul Kelly & Neil Finn gig in Elder Park. So great. The weather was hot and our catering, drinks wise, was fairly insufficient. I bought Adam chocolate coated coffee beans and Rachel asked "how handsome is my boyfriend?" and I didn't know what to say. Yes would be the correct answer, but how to say it... The band was great, I love how Paul likes to play with "nephew Dan". Husband commented on the two leads-Neil Finn does perfect pop, but Paul's music is so emotionally resonant, it attaches to your memories and sentiments more deeply. I love him, I do. 

Getting to the concert was briefly derailed by my son swallowing a silver coin. He repeated the story to ED staff: he swallowed a coin, demonstrates how he swallowed it at the back of his mouth, points to his stomach where the coin now lives. It was a giant pain to get him to the hospital and have it investigated (metal detector, x-ray, plus a doctor who dismissed it "kids swallow coins all the time without their parents knowing"). Now we just have to wait for it to come out. Was it a twenty cent? The x-ray wasn't clear. 

Yesterday we headed into Writers Week, kids day. I can safely say we didn't see Mem Fox read, we didn't partake of water colour painting (like last year, which he loved), he refused to be part of the Nylon Zoo dress up parade. All we managed was sitting with Pen, Ben and toddler Otto. My son shared an apple, snatched his dinosaur toy off him, both played with their Bendigo Bank piggy banks and when my son hugged Otto goodbye, Otto said "goodbye, I love you".