We do talk about our kids

Mon chérubin hilarant

2009-11-17T19:35:00.003+11:00

My boys are going through a phase. For about the last 6 months. Every night when they hear me coming through the front door they abandon their dinner and hide under the kitchen table.

They know that I know where they are.

They jump out and say "boo" anyway, and laugh when I pretend to freak out.

Last night, we had a variation on this when young Cherub decided to stay under the table for as long as possible.

It went like this:

INC: Where's Cherub gone?

Cherub (from under the table): You have to guess where I am.

INC: Okay. Are you in Japan?

Cherub (from under the table): No

INC: Are you in America?

Cherub (from under the table): No

INC: Are you under the table and you need to come up and eat your dinner right now?

Cherub (from under the table): No

INC: I think you are.

Cherub (from under the table): You have to ask if I'm in France.

INC: Okay [small sigh] Are you in France?

Cherub (from under the table): NO!

It's just another Saturday, in a not particularly tired or old street

2009-10-03T15:45:00.005+10:00

A few highlights from today.

We started with Bundle and Cherub making puppets out of cardboard, paddle pop sticks and pipe cleaners and putting on the worst puppet show since Rory Gilmore discovered socks. I loved every single second of it. Five stars.

We went to the park to fly the styrofoam planes that we bought at Australian Geographic during last week's train trip to Melbourne Central. Inevitably, at some point in this exercise, Bundle's plane got stuck in a tree. The plane was out of reach and there was no hope of climbing the tree, since even the lowest branches were unreachable too.

I decided to get the plane down by throwing the only item I could find, which was my muesli bar. Incredibly, this almost worked. I hit the plane on my third throw and knocked to a lower, if still unreachable, branch.

Sadly, two throws later, the muesli bar got stuck too.

Bundle had stayed pretty calm up to this point, but when he realised we had nothing else to throw, he started to get seriously worried. Fortunately, I found a tennis ball in the boot, and ten or so throws later the plane was low enough to be poked with a stick, and, shortly after that, back on the ground.

Bundle was pretty excited, but still possessed of a sense of perspective, as demonstrated by:

Bundle: MY PLANE! YAY!!

INC: Is your daddy awesome?

Bundle: YES! Well, except for the muesli bar.

The park was followed by a trip to Bunnings to buy, as it turned out, hardly any mulch, and then home for lunch. After lunch , we played many more ridiculous games on the trampoline, we played with my sister's dog who is visiting for a few weeks, and then, for reasons that may one day be clear, Cherub decided that the next game we played would involve throwing a basketball "at your butt".

Cherub took an early lead by announcing this game while I was retrieving Bundle's football from under the trampoline, meaning his task was not that difficult.

After I levelled the scores a couple of minutes later, Bundle and Cherub teamed up and chased me around the yard for a minute or two, leading to this:

Bundle: Stand still, daddy, stand still. You have to stand still!

INC: I'm not going to stand still. That would make it too simple. I'm going to run around

Bundle: No daddy! We're on the 'easy' level.

For the record, the next level was 'medium', and I was allowed to move so long as it was at a walk and backwards.

Dull moments are something that happens to other people.

I don't know what to say to that (uh-hum)

2009-08-31T22:45:00.002+10:00

INC: So, what would you like for lunch today?

Cherub: Nothing

INC: Oh, okay. Here you go.

*Passes a handful of nothing to Cherub*

Cherub (angrily): Pfft. I didn't mean a real nothing.

Law & Order: WDTAOK Pt II

2009-08-16T14:56:00.002+10:00

I tell you, you let a boy go to just one "Emergency Services" day at Kinder and this is what happens....

The scene is our kitchen. Bundle's police car has just caught up with Cherub's speeding hot rod and the dialogue goes a little something like this:

Officer Bundle: You were speeding again. I'm taking you to jail

Speeding Cherub: But, but, I'm a mummy

Officer Bundle: Well, they'll just have to miss you for a few days. Come on.

Speeding Cherub: But, I was only speeding to catch up with my darlings...

Officer Bundle: YOU DON'T HAVE ANY DARLINGS. You've told me that before. I'm locking you up.

[Escorts speeding Cherub to jail]

....

It's quite surprising that certain politic parties who like to run on a 'law and order' type platform have not lobbied to lower the voting age to four. That rumbling that you hear off in the distance is the start of the biggest landslide ever.

Cheer up with Cherub

2009-08-14T21:29:00.002+10:00

I don't think I've ever seen a three year old comfort an older sibling before. It wasn't just a first, it was also incredibly sweet....

Bundle had been experimenting with stretching the arms of a small rubber frog (one of those incredibly cheap ones that you get in party bags) and sadly one of the legs had come right off.

It was Bundle's favourite blue frog and he was, for quite some time, absolutely inconsolable.

All my best efforts had failed, so Cherub decided to have a go at it. After not having much success initially, he decided to call in the big guns, so he went and found his favourite soft toy, just to see if Puppy could do it.

And it went a little something like this.

Cherub's puppy: Don't be sad Bundle, it's okay...

Bundle: *sniff* but my froggy lost a *sob* arrrrmmm...

Cherub's puppy: Well, you know, when I was a little boy, I had a toy like that too....

Bundle: You can't have been a little boy *sniff* You're just a cuddly, and cuddlies don't grow up...

[short pause]

Cherub's puppy: We-e-e-ell. When I was real.....

I'm not sure if it was because Bundle was so busy trying to figure out whether that made sense that he forgot to be sad, or because Cherub told him he had something on the back of his neck and then proceeded to poke him until he started giggling, but we had a happy Bundle again in no time at all.

And, once again, an awestruck and very proud daddy.

If you feel like jumping and you dont know what to do

2009-04-19T21:30:00.003+10:00

Well, you could record a children's album with Marty "Go the Dome" Worrall from season 2 of Aus Idol.*

Or, you could read this handy guide to trampoline games as invented by Bundle and Cherub.

It's working

This one started when I finally persuaded Bundle and Cherub that, rather than holding hands with one or the other of them while bouncing, I could hold hands with both and they could hold hands with each other and the three of us could stand in the middle of the trampoline and all bounce together.

We tried it. One of us, mildly surprised by the success of this idea, yelled "It's working!". This was closely followed by "It's not working!" as we collapsed in an unceremonious heap of randomly bouncing limbs.

Pretty soon, the game became a battle of opinions, as whoever had most recent yelled "It's not working" would try to drag the other two of us matwards.

If that was all there was to the game, it might not have made the list, but the boys have now refined it further by deciding that one's opinion as to whether "it's working" is dictated by the colour of one's shirt. Anyone in a blue shirt must believe and declared that "it's working", a red shirt requires the belief that "it's not working", and the person wearing black** must declare that "it's never working".

Just to add to the chaos, now pants colour must be taken into account too. So, when I wear a black T-shirt with khaki shorts, I am required to believe that "it's never working" and "it's always working".

Simultaneously.

Add two enthusiastic boys yelling similarly diametrical opinions and you will end up with an exercise in bouncy surrealism guaranteed to leave everyone involved laughing too hard to breathe.

It is also worth noting at this point that this game operates on exactly the same principle as De Bono's six thinking hats, and I'm willing to bet Edward was much more than 4 years old when he thought that one up.

Walking to Work

This is another game that developed from the practice of holding hands with one child and bouncing in the middle of the trampoline. One day when it was Cherub's turn to do this, Bundle decided to walk around the outside of the trampoline.

I should mention at this point that, if your trampoline is neither round nor surrounded by a very strong and very high net, do not allow your children to play this game.

Ever.

In any case, the basic idea is that one boy will try to "walk to work"*** around the outside of the trampoline while the other boy and I will wait for the most opportune moment to bounce towards the walker and land heavily next to him. If this is done correctly, the walker is bounced off his feet and he lies on the trampoline giggling before suggesting that we do it again.

It's far less sophisticated than the last game (for now), but pleasingly environmentally conscious.

I'm dead
Another fairly straightforward one. The boys and I run around the trampoline until we fall over. Each person who falls announces "I'm dead" and lies there. The last one to die wins.

As with most of the games listed here, I'm not sure how this was invented, and I'm even less sure as to why. My guess, though, would be that it was inspired by a game the boys learnt at a friend's birthday party last year.

The game, called "Dead Man", was imported from America by some of the most engaging children ever to cross the Pacific. In essence, you need to gather a fairly large number of small children. Generally, 6 to 8 works well. One child lies in the middle of the trampoline and the rest of them run around the outside chanting, oddly enough, "Dead man dead man come alive, when I count to number five".

The child in the middle tries to get up by the time the others have counted to five, which is not particularly easy when effect of having six children running around is to cause the allegedly dead person to jolt around wildly.

I only noticed that my children were participating in this when, from across my friends' back yard, I heard the familiar sound of a horizontal, slightly airborne Cherub giggling endlessly and declaring "That drives me nutths"****

Help Woof!

Technically, this should be punctuated as "Help, Woof!" but leaving out the comma gives you a much clearer idea of how it is to be pronounced.

This one was invented while we were dog-sitting my sister's King Charles Spaniel, a beautiful little dog who is very affectionate despite the daily burden of having been named "Woofy". At our place, he is commonly addressed as "Woofster" or simply "Woof", which is no better at all.

Whenever they saw Woofy watching them, Bundle and Cherub would run into the net on one side of the trampoline, bounce off it, and run backwards to the other side whilst waving their arms around as if falling, and yelling "Help Woof".

I'm not sure what they expected a relatively small spaniel who was not even on the trampoline to do about their predicament, but his strategy of standing still and looking increasingly bemused seemed to be popular.

The look on the dog's face was so clear that I could almost see the caption over his head, which could only have said "Theze hoomins iz nutths" or similar.

Find a Spot

Originally, the idea of this game was that if a person was at the edge of a trampoline, anyone who managed to stand next to that person before they moved again would get a point. We would start on different sides and run through the middle, each trying to catch someone else whilst they were briefly standing still.

This actually worked, if only briefly. It got far more chaotic when Bundle decided to claim a point any time he passed anywhere near Cherub or I, regardless of where we were on the trampoline or whether we were moving. Cherub liked the idea too, and the game ended up with the two of them randomly running all over the trampoline yelling "Prize.. prize.. prize..." each time they passed anywhere near anyone else. Or when they didn't.

The look on Honey Bear's face when I said "hey, watch this new game our children invented" was really more than a little entertaining.

I should add that the thing I enjoy most about this game (and yes, we still play it) is that the main prize for the winner is an imaginary silver cup. Other participants who do reasonably well win some cheese.*****

There is a reason. It took me weeks to figure it out, but there is a reason.

In any case, it has been known to lead to conversations like this...

Bundle: I WON. I GET THE SILVER CUP! Oh, here Daddy, you can have some cheese.

INC: What? That's all I get. Just cheese?

Bundle: Oh, okay, you can have a silver cup too.

*Hands imaginary silver cup to INC*

*Looks INC straight in the eye*

Bundle: It's made of cheese.

This trampoline has been excellent value for money.

On. So. Many. Levels.

....

* It takes hard work and talent to get this good at wandering off the point before anyone has the chance to even find out what the point is.

** Me

*** Why they picked this destination has never been fully explained.

**** "nuts". He's two years old.

***** also imaginary

Some things you just can't coach

2009-04-11T23:09:00.001+10:00

Bundle is in the bath. Cherub and INC are watching him pack away all the bath toys so there is room for him to swim.

Yes, it is a big bath.

Bundle (to INC): You;ve never seen me swim before

Cherub (to Bundle): I've never seen you tidy up before.

INC (to everyone): *SNORT*

When Abbott and Costello were young...

2009-02-25T19:32:00.003+11:00

Another conversation that I can't quite believe actually happened.

[The scene is our toy room. Bundle and Cherub are sitting with a deck of cards between them.]

Bundle: Uno

Cherub: Uno

Bundle: Uno

Cherub: Uno

Bundle: No, Uno

Cherub: No, Uno

Bundle: No, Uno

Cherub: No, Uno

[beat]

Bundle: I don't know.....

How to make a parent happy

2009-01-09T17:08:00.002+11:00

Bundle: But why can't we go bike riding yet?

INC: Well, I need to get dressed first. I don't think everyone in the street wants to see me in my boxer shorts

Bundle: I think some of them might

Fox News Update

2008-12-15T20:29:00.002+11:00

For those who are wondering how this disaster waiting to happen ended, well, yesterday was the day when Bundle finally met Crazy Uncle Fox.

You will be pleased to know that, with no prompting from me at all, Bundle decided that we had to take the customised All Pro Scoop with us and show it to his uncle so that he would remember.

And we did.

My brother was bemused, to say the least, but pleased to be famous for something.

The whole thing is getting out of hand, partly because my wife thinks it's funny to talk about Crazy Uncle Fox whenever she gets the chance, to the point where I had to explain to Bundle that that is not actually his uncle's real name.

The whole bat story has taken hold to the point that, when Bundle found out that Uncle Fox was coming around on Christmas Eve "to help Daddy and Santa"*, he suddenly looked worried and asked "He won't put a hole in the presents, will he?"

I considered feeling bad about this, but then my idiot brother spent Sunday afternoon telling my nieces what my nickname was when I was 5 years old,** so I decided to feel entirely fine instead.

* There is a springfree trampoline arriving soon. Ssssh, don't tell the boys, it's a surprise.

** There is not enough money in the world to persuade me to tell you what it was.

Is this line bugged?

2008-12-10T20:59:00.002+11:00

Bundle really has been on fire this week. This morning, it was a conversation on his toy telephone that went a little something like this.

"Hello."

"Hello. who's this?"

"Bug? IS YOUR NAME 'BUG'?"

Puts telephone down, scowls furiously, and yells:

"THIS IS MAAAAAAAAD"

When the phone rang this evening, and I knew it would be one of Honey Bear's friends from the kinder committee, I cannot tell you just how hard it was not to answer the phone in exactly the same way as Bundle, just to see what would happen.

Try it, and let me know how it goes.

Getting to yes

2008-12-08T20:06:00.003+11:00

Bundle: Daddy, do you have brown hair

INC: Yes. And yours is blonde, isn't it? And it's very lovely

Bundle: Is it lovelier than yours?

INC: Yes. I think it is.

Bundle: Hmmm. So, can we agree on that?

INC: [beat] Ye-e-s. Yes, we can.

Bundle: Oh thank you.

[Gives INC a big cuddle to express his gratitude]

Whatever happened to "Nyah Nyah, can't get meeeee"?

2008-11-26T20:14:00.002+11:00

Bundle and Cherub were running around the backyard of their grandparents' s house, taking it in turns to try to spray each other with one of those little spray bottles that are most commonly used for pot plants.

And giggling.

Eventually, Cherub decided to come inside. He ran through the sliding glass door into the living area next to the kitchen, and closed it.

Bundle came right up to the door and sprayed it. Cherub stood just inside the door, on the other side of the glass from where Bundle was spraying.

As the water ran down the outside of the glass door, Cherub pointed to it, and, very politely, asked "Is it on the outside? Is that the problem?"

And smiled, ever so sweetly.

All alone in the moonlight

2008-11-11T22:02:00.003+11:00

My brother is coming to visit around Christmas time. He lives in WA so it's a very long time since the boys saw him. With that in mind, I probably need to stop referring to him as "your crazy uncle Fox"

Here's why.

May 2008
I was teaching Bundle & Cherub to play cricket. We found the bat I used when I played in the under-12s at my local club. It's an "All-Pro" signed by Sunil Gavaskar, for those who may be wondering. Bundle quit reasonably wanted to know why there was a big scoop out of the back. The answer was that my brother decided that having a scoop out of the back of his SS bat seemed to help Australian Captain Kim Hughes so he thought he'd try it out on mine.

I suppose I shouldn't feel too bad about the fact that, in the course of trying to explain that one to a 3 year old, I used the phrase "your crazy uncle" at least once.

June 2008
We took the boys to see the house where I grew up. As I was showing them around, I said "This was your Uncle Fox's room. Bundle said "He's the one who put a hole in your bat. He's crazy, that one"

I resolved to stop mentioning my brother for a few weeks in the hope that the whole thing would be forgotten.

October 2008
This had been working well until I told the boys that their cousins would be visiting this Christmas and, in a moment of weakness, accidentally let slip another reference to their father, crazy Uncle Fox.

Bundle said "I didn't know he was CRAZY".

He then thought for a minute before adding "Didn't he put a hole in something?".

And, a moment later "Hey, let's play cricket".

There's really not a chance that this will have all been forgotten by Christmas.

I guess I should stop referring to my sister in law as " your mad Auntie Poet" sometime soon.

Playaz

2008-09-11T20:53:00.007+10:00

I suppose it's no surprise that the inventor of wildly popular and famous games like "Find the Hamburger" and "You're not Craig" would have equally creative children. Here's a few of the soon to be popular games that they've invented recently.

1. The Pillow Game

I swear that my sole contribution to this was game was that I walked into the toy room one morning and, on seeing Bundle curled up on the miniature couch at floor level, said "Oh, you look like a pillow" and proceeded to rest my head on his back.

Okay, I may have tickled him also.

In any case, Bundle and Cherub decided they both wanted to be pillows, and decided that the best way to deal with having my head rest on them was to jump up and run to the other end of the house, do a few laps of the lounge room/hallway/kitchen circuit, and then run back to the mini-couch so we could do it all again.

Yes, that's right. There is a game where my children run around the house while I am required to do nothing but lie on the floor and possibly drink some coffee.

And my children invented it.

I am grateful.

2. Boo Holidays

This is quite similar to hide and seek, except that the person hiding tends to jump out and yell "Boo" rather than waiting to be found. The name arises from my children's tendency to asume that any toy or other item that is temporarily difficult to locate around the house must have gone on holidays. Which makes perfect sense.

3. That's not a beach, that's my head

I may have had something to do with naming this one. In any case, it's fairly simple. While the boys are in the bath, they like to take it in turns to place wet bath toys, (and, in particular, a plastic lobster) on my head. I say "That's not a beach. THAT'S. MY. HEAD" and they giggle wildly before doing it again.

This one is very popular.

4. The "Bundle" Game

I don't actually know what this involves, othe than the two boys running around a lot, but props to my older child for naming it after himself.

5. Pillow on you

I suspect this one is a very slight variation on the only game that I have ever banned from my house. I simply did not want my children to become too attached to any game called "Poo on you".

You will see how slight the variation iswhen I tell you that the revised game works as follows:

[Cherub places one hand, palm flat and downwards, on Bundle's head]

Cherub: Pillow on you

Bundle [wiping his head furiously] Aaaaargh. Clean clean clean clean clean. Ha

Bundle places hand on Cherub's head, game continues along a very similar lines, with much giggling.

As of today, there is a further variation of this game, apparently called "Robot on you".

No-one has yet explained why the appearance of a pillow, or a robot, on one's head requires such enthusiastic cleaning, but let me assure you that I have no intention of asking.

When in doubt, cute it out

2008-07-13T11:44:00.004+10:00

It is hardly news to announce that I think my children are cute and that this makes it impossible for me to remain cross with them for any length of time. However, I have noticed a recent spike in Bundle's ability to talk his way out of trouble with an explanation that is so adorable that the only possible response is applause and/or laughter.

Bundle does not get himself into trouble too often, mostly because he is a pretty agreeable sort and also because he has learned at least some discretion. He would get in even less trouble if he remembered to word his little brother up in advance. He demonstrated this wonderfully well last night, when Honey Bear asked him to briefly leave his "Winnie the Pooh free computer game that we found on the internet" and come into the kitchen. We didn't hear what he said in response to that request, and given his prompt appearance, we would have been mightily impressed except for one thing.

That one thing was Cherub loudly enquiring "Bundle, why did you say BOTHER?"

Bundle didn't get in trouble for that, since we just thought it was funny, but having reached the age at which children stop being entirely upfront and flawlessly honest in all matters, young Bundle has had to think on his feet a couple of times lately.

The first was a week or two back. Bundle was quite keen to get back to playing "Dora the Explora's Animal Adventures" (does computer addiction run in the family, perhaps?), so much so that he came running out of the bathroom completely free of pants and headed for the computer. I, perhaps unreasonably, insisted that he retrieve, and wear, his pants before further computer games were played, if only because it was quite cold.

Bundle, after some insistence on my part, headed back towards the bathroom, but stopped a couple of metres short, and, lying on the toy room floor, announced he could go no further because he had "run out of muscles".

I suggested that I strongly suspected that he would be quite capable of walking back to the other end of the house once I told him he could return to the 'puter, and hence I suspected that he could also walk the two metres to the bathroom if he chose. He maintained what is best described as a dignified silence in response.

As it was the end of a long day, and he was genuinely tired after his cousin's birthday party, I decided not to make too big an issue of it, and so I retrieved the pants for him. Having put them on, he, slightly predictably, starting running towards the computer. I said "Oh, your muscles seem to have come back". He stopped for just long enough to look me in the eye and say, very seriously, "Yes, daddy. They were playing hide and seek".

I think this sort of creativity ought to be encouraged. And recorded on a blog so I can remind him about it at various birthday celebrations for the rest of time.

Bundle's best work, though, came when he was in much more trouble. I hesitate to record it here, as it involved admitting to a couple of things. One is that, despite all my good intentions before starting on this parenting thing, "bribing the kids to do stuff" is not as unknown a concept as it used to be. The other is that I got hustled by a three year old.

We occasionally use a reward system, which started during the period best described as either "toilet training" or "the longest living nightmare of my life" depending on how recent it was. Of the many things that we bribed Bundle with, the one that worked was a big bag of very small pieces of candy from one of those super cheap confectionary outlets. We bought an absolute heap of these things and they now occasionally get used for other things, like drinking foul tasting medicine without throwing a hissy fit.

Our usual approach is to start with a couple of pieces of candy as a reward, and then gradually phase it out once the children get the hang of whatever we are encouraging them to do. One morning, I had a memory lapse and forgot that we had phased out candy as a reward for whatever Bundle had just correctly done. Bundle knew it, of course, because Honey Bear had told him, but he asked me for it anyway in the hope thqat I had forgotten.

This is something we are fairly strict about. If one parent has said 'no' to something, asking the other parent behind the first one's back is heavily discouraged. Forgetting this, Bundle happily announced "Mummy, I got candy!", which lead to a couple of obvious questions from Honey Bear and suddenly Bundle was aware that he may need a way out quickly. It went something like this:

Honey Bear: Now, you know what I told you yesterday about this?

Bundle (meekly): Yes

Honey Bear: So you know that we don't get candy for that any more, don't you?

Bundle (still meekly): Yes

Honey Bear: So is there something you need to say to Daddy?

Bundle: (even more meekly) Yes

[Bundle turns to INC]

Bundle: You da maaaaannnn!

[INC & Honey Bear fall around laughing]

How, one wonders, could I possibly argue with that?

My children could probably learn to spell respect, but somehow the subject just never came up

2008-07-06T15:58:00.003+10:00

It has been fun watching Cherub learn to talk. It's particularly entertaining when he gets into a conversation with Bundle that clearly makes perfect sense to the two of them, but is a little bit confusing for the rest of us. I suspect that I will never understand why I went into their room one morning to find that they were both yelling "Norman!" very loudly.

We don't know anyone named Norman and it's not like we've been doing William the Conqueror themed bed time stories or something.

It's also fun because I never know quite what I am going to get called next.

It was another one of these slightly mystifying 'shout a random word' games that started it. As I was strapping the two of them into their car seats one morning, the word of the day seemed to be "PUMPKIN!". It went like this.

Cherub: PUMPKIN!

Bundle: PUMPKIN!

Cherub: PUMPKIN

Bundle: [seeing INC] PUNK!

INC: Did you just call me a punk?

Bundle: Yass

INC: And is that very funny?

Bundle: Yaaaasss!

Cherub: You're a carrot

I don't even know what that means.

For sheer excellence in refusal to take that whole 'respect for parents' thing seriously, Bundle really was at the top of his game. He was more than usually keen to leave for church, as we had told him that his grandparents, who have been away for 6 weeks, would be there today. When he asked if it was nearly time to go for the eighth time, I pointed to my scraggly two-day growth and explained that I needed to shave before going to church, as I didn't want to turn up at church with a beard.

His reply, whilst looking directly at my less than impressive stubble?

"No, everyone would laugh at you"

This was said with most pleasing confidence and certainty.

On hearing this, my lovely wife laughed very loudly and gave our son a high five.

Grizzlewick learns chess, a play in three parts

2008-07-04T15:07:00.002+10:00

Act One: The game begins

Grizzlewick: I’m going to move my horse

Mr Fix: No, don’t do that

GW: I’m going to move my castle.
This is a pretty tricky game, isn’t it? I’m going to take your pawn

MF No, don’t do that. Do your horse. I mean, knight.

GW Mummy, look I’ve got a castle!

Act Two: A little later

GW Look Mummy, I’ve got the white horse!

MF I’m in a bit of trouble now.

GW I’ve got SEVEN of Daddy’s!

MF I’ve got five. You’re in a good strategic position there, Grizzlewick

GW You might take my horse though. What can I do?

Act Three: A little later still

GW You’re going to win, Daddy! You’re going to win!

After ‘check’ #53, Mr Fix prevails

GW bursts into tears and promises he will never play again

FIN

You've got some nerve and baby that'll never do

2008-05-06T17:08:00.003+10:00

Excuse the unmitigated spewing forth of bile and irritation. Just can't stand it anymore, hence an open letter:

Dear You,

Maybe I’m trying to hard. Maybe it was too much to ask that you spend some kid-time with Grizzlewick recently. But we’ve known each other a long time, and you have indicated in the past that you want a treasured status in his life.

Lord knows, he certainly doesn’t need any more toys, so I thought it would be nice for you to spend some time together, doing something that he would like to do, rather than the usual “drag Grizzlewick along to a café in the vain hope he’ll sit still for four hours while we ignore him” procedure that usually characterises our catch-ups.

I did try to warn you that if Mr Fix and I tagged along at your get-together that he would spend all his time pawing at us rather than enjoying your company. Funnily enough, that’s exactly what happened. I could have told you too, that taking him to a café for lunch where there were precisely two things on the menu that he would eat would result in some pfaffing about of monumental proportions.

Also, when he burst into tears because he lost sight of both of his parents unexpectedly, breezing past him muttering in a sing-song voice “Just ig-NORE him” is probably not the most caring thing you could have done. In fact, it’s the kind of thing that I might do, but I am his mother and not a person in his life from whom he should be able to expect spoiling and unconditional love no matter the circumstances and incredibly lax discipline whatever the weather. Dude – I’ve had taxi drivers pay more attention to my child than you did.

And you know how irritated you were, that there was a small group (say about three people, one of them five years old?) lagging behind by about three quarters of a block as we walked down the street? Best I can tell, there was nothing to stop you either a) slowing the hell down or b) offering to take Grizzlewick’s hand (or better still offer him a piggy-back ride) and making him feel included in what turned into your outing.

What’s more, I really don’t care to hear feedback via others that he was a little monster that day, or that his behaviour leaves anything to be desired. A little thought on your behalf could have made the day a whole lot smoother, and it’s not like you can say you weren’t warned.

In retrospect, this whole thing was a really bad idea. I hope you won’t mind if, as his mother, I restrict my child’s interaction with you. It’s just that I don’t think you’re a particularly good influence.

Kind Regards,

Gigglewick

******

Dear Gigglewick,

Enough with the social engineering. They’re just not that into you.

Gigglewick

I remain on the far side of random

2008-04-30T20:32:00.002+10:00

A few more of my many recently entertaining conversations with my older son:

Scene 1: The toy room

INC: Okay boys. It's time for a bath

Bundle: No. I want a zebra

It is mildly comforting that this was a reference to a hand puppet, but perhaps not as comforting as one might think.

Scene 2: The toy room: More recently

Bundle: [proudly wearing his 'big boy' undies] I'm going to say something to the nappies

INC: Okay....

*Bundle walks over to the nappy box*

Bundle: SILLY NAPPIES!

INC: .....

Scene 3: Also the toy room: Only slightly less recently

Bundle: What time is it?

INC: It's 8.30.

Bundle: Oh

*Five minutes later*

Bundle: What time is it?

INC: It's twenty five to nine

Bundle: Oh. Good.

*Five minutes later*

Bundle: What time is it?

INC: It's twenty to nine

Bundle: Hmmmmm

*Five minutes later*

Bundle: What time is it?

INC: It's quarter to nine

Bundle: QUARTER TO NINE! REALLY? THAT SURPRISES ME!

.......

It surprised me too. Quite a lot, actually.

Identity

2008-04-24T20:57:00.003+10:00

A couple of recent conversations with the boys.

INC: Do you know something, Cherub? I think you're gorgeous

Cherub: Noooooooooo

INC: Yes you are. You're gorgeous.

Cherub. Nooooooo. Cheeky boy, actually.

And then there was my attempt to explain to Bundle why, whilst grateful for the offer, I was not going along with his suggestion that he could carry some ridiculously heavy item up the stairs for me (I think it was our large metal tool kit). It went like this:

Bundle: But why can't I carry it

INC: I wouldn't want you to drop it on your toes. It would hurt. You would say "oooo ouch. My toes" I don't want you to have to say "oooooo ouch"

Bundle: Seals do that sometimes.

So, one child has picked up the bizarre notion that his incessant cheekiness makes him less gorgeous, not more, which is not an idea he could possibly have got from his parents, and the other one thinks my impression of a toddler with a sore toe sounds confusingly similar to my impression of a seal.

Ever get the feeling that if the results of your parenting match your intentions it is more or less entirely a happy coincidence? I do.

I know every tune about dardi-cars and hurts and hearts and moons

2008-04-24T16:52:00.001+10:00

So Grizzlewick went on his first excursion yesterday, to the botanical gardens.

He came home pleased as punch after what he considers to be his first ride on a bus (actually we used the bus frequently when in Preston, but don’t try telling him that).

Also, he was excited about the cannon in the gardens, which I understand was clambered over by many an over-excited young child.

It also prompted the following conversation:

Grizzlewick: So mummy, the cannon doesn’t work now.

Me: Mmm-hmmmm…

Grizzlewick: But in the old days, it used to go peow peow peow!

Me: Uh-huh….

Grizzlewick: Yes! And it used to shoot at the dardi-cars!

Me: ???!!!

Subsequent conversations have been unable to tease out the true identity of the “dardi-cars”.

My thoughts are initially that

a) he made it up entirely or
b) he means the “Dardanelles”, in which case I have to wonder why my son is being provided with a detailed history of military campaigns and ordinance.

Any advances on these thoughts?

Information Night...

2008-02-20T11:10:00.002+11:00

Yesterday evening I spent an hour in a hot and stuffy school library, cramming my slightly curvaceous arse into a teeny-tiny child size chair in order to discover that in an amazing break from tradition Miss H will this year be learning...

English!

and also some

Maths!

With a dash of PE! thrown into the mix.

Grrrrrr.......

I HATE primary schools. And primary school teachers*. Who are incapable of using correct grammar even when lecturing parents... Apparently, according to the principal (to whom I have actually complained) it's a 'generation thing' and there's not a lot she can do about it.

Grrrr......

* Except those primary school teachers who number among my friends, obvs. They don't count. Neither does Miss M's teacher from last year - he ROCKED.

what's for dinner tonight?

2008-02-12T22:26:00.000+11:00

we were at msac earlier.

young d and i are watching his 2 sisters in their swimming lesson.

young d asks me: what's for dinner tonight?

me: guess

young d [eye's lighting up]: pizza!

me: nope

young d [eye's still afire]: lasagne!

me [eye's getting twitchy]: no

young d: [still hopeful]: tacos!

me: no! i'll tell you... COUS-COUS!!!! [voice is very excited, kind of like "wow wouldn't that be the best thing ever that you would like to eat?]"

young d: oh.

and note he says this not as "oh" as in simple disappointment; he also adds a twist of comedy to it, making it a comedic "oh", and that makes it worse than just a disappointed "oh".

[someone once told me ages ago, oh alright it was my ex-husband, that when he was less than complimentary about the food i cooked, i shouldn't take it personally.]

NOT TAKE IT PERSONALLY?

how can a woman, who has cooked for her loved ones, and then had a nose turn up or similar, not take it personally?

i am sure i represent all women and/or cooks when i say this.

[insert little vignette here, now we are back home]

princess just came in the room: ooh, something smells nice, what's for dinner...

me: COUS COUS!!

[pause]

me: WITH CHICKEN!!!!!

princess: yum!

me: and i left the carcass out there for you to strip

[princess makes sound of ravenous beast, flaps her arms, and runs to the kitchen. there are now the sounds of feasting from that direction, like some sort of stephen king monster.]

you can't please everyone, all of the time. this i know to be true.

i am glad my daughter shares my genes; the love of stripping a chicken carcass, neck and all. it's passed down the female side in my family.

Lookin' for adventure...or whatever comes our way

2008-02-04T22:48:00.000+11:00

So on Saturday, Grizzlewick snuggled up to me on the couch in front of cartoons.

His eyes were shining, he smiled a heart-melting smile.

"Oh, Mummy," he said, snuggling close.

"Yes, darling?"

"Now, Mummy," he said, grasping my hand tightly.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

"CAN I HAVE A MOTORBIKE FOR CHRISTMAS?"