The art of hat disposal

An interesting weekend; we had a house guest, one of my brother-in-law’s friends, Aaron, the type of house guest that gives a good name to house guests. Unfortunately he was only in town for just 36 hours. Hardly enough time to see very much, but he managed to see plenty. 

We did the usual touristy things – the city, Botanical Gardens, the Shrine, St Kilda, souvlaki in Richmond… for me the most memorable moment was on the Williamstown to St Kilda ferry. Young Jeremy, in his teething toddler way, was not having a great time, and at one point was offered his hat to wear, in an attempt to cheer him up. Which it did for a few seconds.

Then I saw his hands reaching for his hat. Brain Central put out an alert. If it was on TV, it would have been one of those slow-motion "Noooooooooo!" scenes, but actually to everyone else it probably just sounded like an angry "No!" I knew precisely what was about to happen, but my hands couldn’t move fast enough to stop it. Jeremy pulled his hat off and flung it away – as he often does when he’s wearing it in his pram – but this time of course, it flew off into the sea, much to the bemusement of our fellow passengers.

Being a toddler of course, he couldn’t quite grasp the concept that having thrown it away, this time, he couldn’t have it back. But also, being a toddler, I think he’d forgotten about it after few a minutes, in favour of some more pressing sources of misery, his continuing painful gums and general mid-afternoon tiredness.

But if do you happen to come across a Sesame Street hat in Port Philip Bay, drop me a line – I’m sure Jeremy would be delighted to see it again.

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