I took a cold glass of water out to Mum. She was sitting on the back porch in the blistering heat, staring so intently at what was in front of her. She appeared confused as if she didn’t know what to do next, her cataracts made her eyes look like they are glazed over – the right one is particularly bad and it needs surgery. She is virtually blind in that eye. I look at what she is doing and feel very torn, because I cannot for the life of me decide whether she needs therapy or holy water and a priest.
Mum has been working on this year’s paper mache rabbit for what feels like a lifetime. She could only ever spend about 30 minutes on it as her legs do not allow her to stand for very long anymore. Why the hell she sets herself these tasks is beyond me, she tends to forget she is a heartbeat off 91. Why not just give the boyfriend the bag of $2 chocolates that she bought for him instead of making a gigantic paper mache rabbit, pushing a paper mache wheelbarrow that is holding a giant paper mache egg?
At one stage my grandchildren saw it during the production process and my grandson said quietly to me, “Crazy Nanny, does GG Joan realise those arms on that bunny are way too short?”. I said, “They are not arms darling, they are boobs”. He looked mortified. My granddaughter burst out laughing, not at the bunny – she was laughing because I said boobs.
I was going to see if the local paper wanted to do a story on the making of the bunny considering her age and her chronic arthritis – I think the bunny is quite an achievement. Of course all that energy could have been put into crocheting some beautiful rugs for the Cancer Council while sitting in the air conditioned comfort of the living room, but she has already donated so many this year and as she said, “Why not make another bunny?”. But this bunny is looking like it came from the wrong side of the warren as it has taken on the persona of a $2 whore, and it is looking more and more like a story I should submit to a dodgy magazine.
Today Mum spent some time doing the final touches. It’s quite funny in a disturbing sort of way, especially when she decided to put an earring in the nipples of the boobs. She tried and the nipples, being plastic bottle tops and the boobs dessert containers, one push of the earring and the nipple went flying closely followed by the boob, unfortunately the mower man was in the backyard and to cut a long story short, I had to open another bottle of drink and Mum had to quickly eat another dessert, just so the boobs matched.
I was worried about the old boy’s heart with last year’s rabbit, this year I really think his son should have oxygen and a shot of adrenalin on hand, and maybe have the paramedics on speed dial…just in case.
Have you made something like Christine’s mum’s rabbit before?