When our friend Roland in Australia hasn’t any work on of a Friday there is a good chance that he’ll be taking his grandson Mason out for the day. If you are a regular visitor to this blog that name will probably ring a bell for I have written many times about my lovely “Mason Days”. You may remember photographs of Mason as a baby, covered with beautiful frangipani and hibiscus flowers, in his pram as I took him out for walks. It does my heart good to note that, now he is older, the adorable little boy has an appreciation of flowers, which one wouldn’t normally expect to find in a two and a half year old (when I see him pick up a frangipani, smell it and pass it to me I think, “That’s my boy!”).

My brother Henry, too, loves the little chap. We still laugh about the occasion, a few months ago, that Mason wasn’t very well with a chesty cough and we were all down at Wynnum seafront; Mason had overheard Roland and I saying that we thought he needed to see a doctor and the poorly child became adamant that he should see a doctor immediately.

“Why don’t you ask someone here to pretend to be a doctor?” Roland whispered in my ear.

“Uncle Henry is a doctor!” I said loudly.

“So he is!,” and Roland turned to his old friend and asked, “Doctor Henry, would you mind examining young Mason?”

That is how Uncle Henry became “Doctor Henry” and why my brother is revered still in the eyes of the youngster who now associates Wynnum seafront play park with informal medical appointments and fun whales that spurt water.

Of course, it’s winter in Queensland at present and the water spurts have been turned off until the weather gets hotter, but Roland and Mason still enjoy to visit Doctor Henry and their old haunts (even though it has been inordinately cold and windy of late). Only two days ago Roland and Mason decided to brave the weather and take a brisk walk along the beach at Wynnum (the dried up whales had lost their appeal). In the distance was a lady with a dog…

“Look at that dog, Mason,” said Roland bending down and pointing, “Do you see that he has only three legs?”

“And one head!” said Mason observantly.

Sometime later, back at Granddad’s house, Roland was concerned that Mason had not “performed” during the day.

“Be sure to let me know if you need the toilet,” said Grampy (not to be confused with “Grumpy”), “because you’re a big boy and ought to be out of nappies now. Do you need to go?”

“No Granddad,” replied Mason with innocent eyes.

It sometimes happens that when you put an idea in someone’s mind… things just seem to happen.

Mason disappeared behind a lounge-room chair and his grandfather heard sobbing.

“Mason, what’s the matter? Have you done something in your nappy?”

“No,” Mason popped his head over the arm of the chair, “an ant bit me on the arm!”

The genius child, without any trace of an ant bite, did not receive the sympathy he had hoped for but neither was he scolded too harshly; and his grandfather tried not to laugh too much as he performed the dreaded nappy-change!