On first (and second) name terms

 

At a time when Grace starts to show form in her artwork, where her random scribbles begin to resemble a cat (with 'blue circles for the eyes' as she merrily reminds me), I notice a change of affection in the friends that she keeps. For a while at nursery she's been joined at the hip to a little boy called Jack, similar age, similar amount of dribble and tantrums. It's a good match. What was an innocent friendship has blossomed into kinship, with Grace becoming coy and hiding her face whenever Jack pokes his tougue out or tugs at her skirt. Asked who she has played with at nursery today, she'll pipe up with 'Jack', then 'Jack Barratt'. Yes, she is on first, and second name terms with her first male friend. We've been talking about first and second names lately.

Gracie 'Yongdale', as she says it. Ever so cute!

 

The Cat, by Grace.

showing signs of multi-tasking, we're getting her used to headphones...

Skimming stones at East Ardsley resevoir

Little Miss Independant

When Grace went to Daisychain nursery for the last time, my heart broke just a little bit. For nearly two years she has been going, her home away from home. She loved it, and I loved that she loved it. She's learnt so much from them, not least of all how to start out in life being little miss independant.

"Gracie do it!" has become one of the most-heard phrases in our house.

Take the bedtime story for instance. We have been reading "We're going on bear hunt" since it was passed down to us from a good friend of mine just after Grace came into the world. She knows it, the way it rolls, whats on the next page. I didn't realise how soon it would be before she started telling us... "No Mummy, Gracie read it!"

Of course she's not actually reading, she's recalling the pattern of the words, remembering the pictoral cues on each page. Nevertheless, my little miss independant is pretty darn good!

"Going on a bear hunt.... big one... not scared.... beautiful day"
"Grass! Swishy swashy, swishy swashy!"
"Going on a bear hunt.... big one... not scared... beautiful day"
"Mud! Squelch squerch!"

it goes on, through the snowstorm, through the river, through the dark wood....

"stumble trip, stumble trip"

to the cave

"dark cave, not scared. Tiptoe tiptoe. It's a bear! Raaaaaaaaaaa!" she mimics a bear at this point, claws ready to pounce!

"quick! back home, upstairs, door, stairs, bed"
"no bear hunt again"
"End!"

I'd video or soundbite it, but I'm not allowed. Little miss independant tells me "No Mummy. Away!"
So I put the smartphone away. I've been told.

And I ask her, has Mummy told you she loves you today?

"Yes Mummy. Love you too. Gracie do it".

And we both go to bed.

Twinkle Twinkle Chocolate Bar

It's not often you find Grace and me behind the lens of the camera together. I try to avoid it, much to my Husbands annoyance. Nevertheless, here's one for the album. Beautiful but nippy out this morning at Newmillar Dam, Grace ate more bread than she fed to the ducks and seemed to enjoy spotting the blue lights on the passing ambulance more exciting than tossing crumbs to the critters.
I'm over my blue fit earlier in the week over her singing Twinkle Twinkle and making it 'her own'. SiCo would be proud, as would every other x-factor judge that has ever been. Taking a classic song, and making it your own. That's my girl.

So I'm listening to the sound of Father - Daughter cameraderie during bathtime, while I amused myself washing dishes in the kitchen. Proud to hear her singing along to whatever nursery rhyme took her fancy. Then I hear 'twinkle twinkle chocolate bar....'

I stop to listen. The Husband sounds confused. (It doesn't take much, nursery rhymes are tricky).

'Daddy drives a rusty car....'
'Turn the engine, pull the choke'
'Off we go in a puff of smoke.....'

Hm. Money well spent at nursery it seems.

On speaking to other parents in the same situation, it's common. They are conspiring against us. They are now, officially off my Christmas List. Hmph.

Today saw for me the first frozen lake of the season, it will have frozen earlier in the week and is thawing since the mercury has risen a few notches overnight.

Here is Grace spotting the flashing blue lights..... ne-nar, ne-nar, ne-nar!

Pottygate

Picture me on Monday, doing a dance around the kitchen when I realise we've got through the day... dry AND clean. Three wee's and a poop on the potty. Not one change of clothes. Happy? I may even have raised a glass (or two) of wine in celebration.

This is the high.

Tuesday formed the low, several misses, and a washing machine wondering what's happened that warrants a mid-week load. Hmph just about summed it up.

Today? Today is a mid-roader. Not bouncing off the walls, but considering Grace has been in nursery all day today, I'm satisfied with her 50% hit rate. Talking of 50%, I'm off to nail the rest of that bottle that I opened on our 'dry day'. Might as well get the mid-week sip of vino off of my chest before starting the new job on Monday..... good times are a coming!

You're cramping my style!

The journey to nursery is often telling....what mood is she in today?

It's three months now since Grace moved out of the baby-room at nursery and it's still something that looms over me every time I drop her off... what will today be like? Clinging to my leg, reaching her arms up for me are common, tears are getting less frequent (thankfully), and fortunately the full on tantrum is rare. There used to be none of this when she was a Pixie in the baby-room.

The other thing there used to be little of, was her pointing to the door telling me to go. Her face tells me she's fine. I'm not in a rush to go as our timing was spot on this morning, I have time to chat to another Mum about children's parties. Grace points to the door again, nodding for me to shift it.

I'm clearly cramping her style.

Winds of change

Dropping Grace at nursery this morning I was expecting the tears and clingy toddler have become commonplace since she moved out of the baby room. Having missed two weeks with our trip to Turkey, I thought she would be reluctant to be left.

I was wrong.

Sitting herself at the breakfast table and making herself ready for cornflakes, she pointed to her bag on the coat peg.

"Do you want to put your dummy in the bag?" I asked her.

"No!" She shakes her head, pops her dummy onto the table beside the cornflake bowl and points again. Maybe she means the door, I think to myself.

"Do you want Mummy to go?"

"Yeah!" she nods her head. Surely not.

"Really? You want Mummy to go?"

"Yeah!" she says, nodding her head again. Bemused, I grin to the other parents and swan off to work. The winds of change.

As for wind, here's some breaking news. See the picture above? Where she got the idea to strike a pose when she farts I've no idea.

Grandpa?!


Coffee love

On a wet and windy Wednesday I wake to the sound of a toddler coughing. Sounds very chesty. She's ok, just a bit subdued so I prep her with Calpol and Tixylix and pack her off to nursery with not one but three Mr Rabbit's and a dummy permafixed to her chops. Comfort in soft-toys.

She's clingy when I drop her off. The first time since moving up into the Imps Room that we've had no tears and I wonder if today she just doesn't have the energy? I know the feeling. I wave goodbye, she ignores me sulking, and I leave feeling decidedly unloved. It's me with the separation anxiety today.

I've had a bad back these last few days so I've not been able to pick Grace up for a cuddle or give her much attention as just moving has been so uncomfortable. I'm missing my baby girl. I'm going to treat myself to a soothing cup of coffee. Like a big hug.

Once I was a Pixie...

"Once upon a time I was a Pixie. For 12 months I was safe in the knowledge I was a Pixie. I am a Pixie no more."

Grace has moved up class in nursery to the toddler room or 'Imps and Sprites' as they call it. Cute. But not smooth.

Grace is resenting the move somewhat having got very comfy in the room at the end with her pals Sandy, Doromey and Lydia, and we're experiencing a bit of drama on a morning when we drop her off. By the time I phone at half eight, she's settled in fine and eaten her breakfast but for that nanosecond when I leave her it does rather tug at the old battle-hardened heart strings. Awwww.

She'll be fine.

I just wish she wouldn't cling to my leg for dear life.