“Hey, Raven,” I whispered to my daughter conspiratorially as I gently nudged her in the direction of Lana del Rey’s Born To Die vinyl album at JB Hi-Fi. “When papa asks what I want for my birthday, ask him to get this for me, okay?”

It’s a shameless move, but no way I’m spending $61.99 of my own money to buy a record no matter how awesome it is. Mainly because I’m cheap as. Partly because I just recently spent around that much on Faber-Castell Gelatos and I can’t seem to justify another extraneous purchase so soon.

And besides — (but he doesn’t know this yet) — he started the tradition of gifting me with records, kicking it off with Nirvana’s Unplugged In New York on Mother’s Day. I was stoked! Jeff is more like an acts of service kind of guy so the shock and disbelief of it felt like I was scammed.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

Like I said before, I’m easy to please. And also scam.

It was a beautiful Mother’s Day but I have no pictures of me to prove it, save for the ones here that I took.

Raven organised a treasure hunt for me and her Auntie El-El aka Mama Number Two. There was a map of footprints and drawings that led from one clue to another scattered all over the house which culminated in Jeff’s workshop where she gifted me and my sister with the items she got in her school’s Mother’s Day Stall which I paid for.

She worked hard to make the day memorable. She really did.

Now if only she can remember the artist and the album of the record that I want Jeff to get for me next time.

*Raven at 8 years old