Guessed blog by Clare the favourite family friend
Friday, 3 January 2020
Cathy and her family are bushwalking at the moment, so they have asked me to step in and take over their lives while they are away. Fortunately this isn't difficult, as Cathy and I are often mistaken for the same person - a sort of Clarathy hybrid super-person who can make a three-tiered wedding cake with one hand while conducting an orchestra with the other. At any rate, Pinto hasn't noticed the difference and is currently enjoying a plate of lightly seared tuna that Clarathy prepared for her in between re-roofing the house and running a half marathon. Cathy has left me a bunch of photos from their last day on KI, which I have crafted into a totally accurate and uncontroversial account of their day. Now read on... 
Hello, Cathy here on Kangaroo Island, just before the end of the 2010s. It's hard to believe that in a few days, my beautiful first born child Zali will be turning sixteen (especially as the 'About Me' section of my blog still claims that I am 35). It's also very hard to believe that I made her in my uterus. Well, that's because I didn't. Jon and I have been dreading this day for a while. You see, for the last sixteen years, we have been keeping a secret - a secret that we vowed to reveal to Zali on on her sixteenth birthday. Yes, Zali and Jett are adopted. OK, we've only been keeping half of that secret for fourteen years, but we figured that when we told Zali she was adopted, Jett would probably figure out that he was too - I mean, look at the size of his brain: 
Sure, Jett looks exactly like Jon and Zali looks exactly like me, but that's only because we went to great lengths to find suitable birth parents. It all started about sixteen and a half years ago, when Jon and I visited the Harry Bates adoption agency on Kangaroo Island. Harry was a local character with many enemies, and sadly his agency - or 'cottage' as it used to be known - was burned to the ground in 2010 by a bunch of local vigilantes when it was revealed that he had in fact fathered most of the so-called 'pouch babies' on the island. 
Luckily for us, a young KI couple - let's call them Katy and Ron - had recently fallen pregnant between recess and lunch under a beach umbrella at Emu Bay and were keen to give the baby up for adoption. 
Harry assured us that it was all 'above board', and for a small fee, our journey to parenthood began. (Also luckily for us, Ron and Katy made the same contraceptive error two years later, this time between the first and second quarter of the '04 semi-final between the Kingscote Crocs and the Penneshaw Pandas). But how to break the news to Jett and Zali? Fortunately, they both love a puzzle and we warmed them up with a quick jigsaw before presenting them with a series of clues. 
First up, I showed Zali a painting that I had recently completed: 
As regular readers know, Zali is a very talented artist, whereas I am a complete chump. Likewise, Jon has about as much artistic talent as a lump of rock: 
'Hmm...' I mused. 'I wonder where Zali gets her artistic talent?' Zali took one look at my terrible painting and rolled her eyes. 'Well it's obviously not from you, mum.' 'I know!' said Jon enthusiastically. 'Why don't we go to the sculpture trail and see if we can identify any local artists with similar sensibilities!' 'What a fabulous idea!' I agreed. 'And on the way we could check out the local bovine artificial insemination facility.' Jett and Zali looked at us like we had lost our minds, but by now they were used to being dragged out on lame adventures on the flimsiest of pretexts, so they reluctantly agreed to come along. First up were the cows: 
'Isn't it amazing how these cows all look the same, yet they probably all have different parents.' Jett shrugged. 'I guess,' he said. 'How do you know they have different parents?' said Zali. 'I mean if they are artificially inseminated, they might all have the same parents. Isn't that what artificial insemination means?'
This wasn't going well. 'Er...' I said, looking at Jon for assistance. 'We'll cross that bridge when we come to it,' said Jon out of context, grabbing them both by the scruff of the neck and marching them over the nearest bridge, which just happened to lead to the sculpture trail. 
As luck would have it, we soon came to a beautiful flower sculpture: 
'Will you look at that!' I said to Zali. 'This flower looks exactly like the flower you made for the top of Jett's birthday cake.' 'So?' said Zali petulantly. 'And look at the artist!' Jon forged ahead. 'Katy Smith - aged 32. Why, if she'd been a teenage mum...' '...her child would be about your age!' I finished. We were on a roll now. 'Ew, gross,' said Zali, and stalked over to a sculpture of an owl. 
Unfazed, Jon continued. 'Another great sculpture - by another young artist, Ron Jones. Hey, I wonder if they were a couple?' Jett, meanwhile, was staring at both of us in turn, a look of growing incredulity on his face. You could practically see the cogs whirring in his giant brain. 'What the hell...?' he said. At this point Jon's mum could stand it no longer. She turned to her beloved grandchildren. 'You're both adopted,' she said. 'Deal with it.' 'Yippee!' screamed Zali. 'I never have to go orienteering again!' And she promptly ran at full speed towards the nearest beach. 
'I think that went well,' said Jon, gazing off into the distance as as his only daughter disappeared from view. 
'Word,' said Jett. 'I always knew I was gangsta.' |