The Sky Is Falling Down!

In my most Henny Penny moments, I get a little worked up about the state of the world.
I worry about the society that little Magoo is growing up in and the culture that is being created by our generation.
I fret about the increasing complexity of life and the crazy pace we set for ourselves.
I see that the consequences of a little experimentation, boundary pushing and plain old stupidity are far greater than they ever were.


Some weeks it's probably best for me to avoid news and current affairs, really.


Like Friday evenings when the news bulletin features the planets aligning one second, then the whole world going completely bonkers the next.


Well, not the whole world - but definitely one particular mother who thinks that having her 8 year old daughter injected with blinkin botox for cosmetic reasons is a fantastic idea. Somebody revoke her parenting licence, please. Oh - no such thing? Well, why not?
(Probably because I never would have been granted one is reason enough.)


So the disclaimer...


I know a family who use botox successfully (and medically) for the treatment of their son's CP and I applaud them for their unselfish, supportive, loving care.


I'm no 'you beaut Earth mother model' myself.
Here I am feeling guilty that Magoo's Batman costume sometimes velcro scratches the crap out of his cheek . But we don't care because we both think it's batty gorgeous!
Oh my. I have made so many mistakes, it's pretty awesome Magoo is still happy to brush my hair and snuggle me at all


However, every one of my mistakes and every accidental 'getting it somewhat right' comes from a place of love. Mushy, deep, changed my life love.

What love is there in (painfully) injecting botox  into your darling's face  - for a beauty pageant, no less?

Don't even get me started on what messages this feeds to this girl's developing mind (and face).
What the repercussions will be for this little girl as she hits puberty, high school and the other cruelties of this world.

And the audacity of the mother happily admitting/justifying her idiocy on international television. (She wasn't Australian. As if we could be bothered with all that fanfare, right?!)

Doesn't she know to keep colossal Mummy failures in a box in the attic of her mind, to drive her crazy for years to come?


So now I no longer feel quite so ashamed about this:

or this

or this

or this

or this one.

Nor any of these...



This one was for his portfolio, thank you



I swear, some people think their children are here for their entertainment.

Licence check please.

Shar :-)