it's raining nipples...doh!

There are any number of things that I could talk about in this post, however, my life this weekend has quite uninterestingly been dominated by weather and to a lesser but more interesting extent by nipples.

Typically, weather is something one talks about when one is stuck like chuck for interesting conversation. The sort of thing you muse about in a lift or whilst waiting in a doctor's office, not the stuff of a scintillating blog posting. Nevertheless, I cannot post in good conscience without mentioning the weather as I have been on a veritable weather rollercoaster since moving to Hong Kong. When I am not being drowned in rain of biblical proportions, I am being heated and humidified to an extent that is cruel and unusual. The weather here is so diabolical that it is described by a complex rating system that would make my father beam with pride. I won't bore you to death with the details but suffice it to say that we don't just get everyday, ho hum rain; oh no, there is amber, red and black rain - let me point out that I was quite disappointed to learn there was no "purple rain" but I can live with "black rain", as it seems suitably sassy and potentially very ominous indeedy. As if that weren't enough to frighten the pants off you with coloured rain, there are monsoon and landslip warnings and the piece de resistance; a tropical cyclone signal system. Not that I would even know a tropical cyclone if it hit me in the face, I am quite certain that there are all sorts of precautionary measures one is meant to take based on the various warnings but let's be frank here; in the event of black rain or a cyclone signally-thingy, I plan to scream like a little girl, use my body as a human shield for my most precious shoes whilst making all sorts of absurd promises to any deity that will listen. The best bit however, is that as I bleat plaintively about the weather, more seasoned expats are more than happy to advise that I ain't seen nothing yet and that it only gets hotter, wetter and more humid which only adds to my already fever-pitched weather hysteria.

As long as we are talking about weather...today we quite innocently decided to go to Stanley to watch the annual Dragon Boat races. Apparently, traveling 12 kilometres away from home was tantamount to entering another weather zone because the overcast, barely tolerable temperatures at our flat were quickly replaced by scorching sun and temperatures easily 10 degrees hotter. It was the sort of heat that makes you want to tear off your clothes as if on fire and run into the nearest body of water. We managed to eke out thirty minutes of race observation before declaring defeat and returning to the miraculous micro-climate surrounding our flat.

Before you think that all I am going to do in this post is get all pissy and vineagary about weather, I will also tell you that today was filled with all sorts of hilarious three-year-old moments. The first of which being that I was forced to face Baby Girl's growing nipple obsession square on. Up until now, I was quite happy to pretend that there was no such obsession; much like the time she started dropping the "f-bomb". I ignored it and she quickly forgot the naughty word. Now, however, Baby Girl has quite inconveniently gone and developed something akin to a long term memory so ignoring things doesn't work anymore because she REMEMBERS STUFF. So, the nipples. Mostly, she just admires nipples in the most naive of ways, like, "hey, nice nipples" but more recently, she has been keen to come in for a closer look necessitating my reluctant parental intervention. This is the point where I have an out of body experience and I see myself having a ridiculously serious conversation about something that is not really very serious at all because I don't know about you but nipples are pretty damned funny; even the word "nipple" is bloody hysterical. Nevertheless, we discussed the fact that indeed, one's nipples are private affairs and yes, that means we are appropriately respectful of nipples all around us and that means that touching, staring at or generally commenting on said nipples is from now on forbodden. Unfortunately, this means that Baby Girl now has to go around to anyone who will listen and give them a lowdown on the whole 'nipple situation'; gravely telling them that nipples are private and we aren't meant to touch them in a tone of voice normally reserved for sharing a particularly serious bit of information like a neighbour's infidelity or a co-workers new hair plugs.

Shortly after the nipple fiasco, Baby Girl quickly moved on to riding her bicycle around our flat, which is no mean feat given the minute dimensions of said flat. However, today, said bicycle riding occurred in my prized purple suede wedge heels.

If someone had told me four years ago that I would be spending my Sundays discussing the privacy aspects of nipples and chasing a pint sized bicycling maniac wearing purple suede heels around my flat I would have laughed quite heartily and said, "not me my good man" because my children are going to be earthly incarnations of ruddy faced cherubs, all goodness and light, wearing perfect, stain-free clothing, displaying impeccable manners and above all RESPECTING MY AUTHORITY. If I could meet the pre-child me now I would just like to gather her up in my arms and say "there, there you delusional little thing..." but I wouldn't tell her that one day, her precious little daughter would develop a nipple obsession or ruin her prized purple suede shoes because who would want to ruin that fun little surprise?