Bitch-tits

That sinking feeling flooded over me, as I sat listening to Mummy's little angel perfecting the delivery of her expletives...

"Bitch-tits Mummy!" she smiles at me sweetly.

I'm aghast. I'm not perfect, I know it. I swear occasionally. I try not to do it within earshot of Grace, but I'm no angel. And now seemingly, neither is Grace.

"Bitch-tits Mummy!" Grace says nicely, pulling me by the hand towards the kitchen.

Distraught at the gritty realisation that my little poppet has not only picked up swearing, she's doing it 'new age', I tell her in no uncertain terms that she mustn't say words she doesn't understand.

"Yes Mummy," she replies and looks a little confused and drags me to the cupboard. I'm still smarting at my parenting failures, when she opens the cupboard and pulls out the packet on the bottom shelf. "Bitch-tits. Please Mummy?"

Merrily munching on a Rich Tea Finger, she toddles off to play with her tea set.

Biscuits.

Age is creeping up on me. I'm clearly bloody deaf.

Who shrunk Boris?

I have many aspirations for Grace as she grows up, although I'd never given much thought to a career as a celebrity double. Walking through the park yesterday gathering leaves and digging for moles, I realised with dismay that her windswept bed-head mop of hair reminded me somewhat of Boris Johnson. (Does one call the mayor of London a celeb?)

After taking a photo to prove the fact, I made sure she kept her hat on the rest of the walk, telling her she had more chance of catching a mole if she did so. Like most parents I'm happy for my child to go forth and prosper in whatever course her life takes. But Boris? Seriously? Not on my watch.

The moment I spotted Boris....

With hat to hide the fact...

Sitting in a tree...

Taking me at my word, digging for moles...

Silent Sunday

Star curry

Some serious heart warming curry on the menu for Grace's supper.... laden with veggie goodness, butternut and aubergine with a peanut, coconut and red chili sauce. Mm-mmmm. Needless to say this went down like a treat until she happened across a rather large chunky of chili that had seemingly missed my ninja style chopping during prep. Bad mummy!

Mini Matisse

Bored to tears on my second day of garden leave found me delving into the cupboards to dig out some messy play for Grace. Kitted out with a very funky Hungry Caterpillar apron, rollers and easy-grip brushes, Grace got down with the paint and came up with some little gems. Mummy's little Matisse.

Back with aplomb

I blinked. It's almost a month since I've felt inclined to blog, Grace has learnt so many new things and before I even noticed I realised I've been distant (if not absent!). Back with aplomb, I've got heaps of stuff I want to offload, starting today with a few pics from our weekend visit to Cannon Hall to enjoy the autumn colours and give Grace her first experience of kicking around in a pile of leaves. Priceless.

Wow! I have never seen a toadstool.. what a gem!

As it happens, Grace spent more time playing in the autumn fall than she did walking around the farm. On the way home she sang through her repertoire of favourite songs, wheels on the bus, old McGracie had a farm, baa baa black sheep... very sweet to listen to. Must try to get a sound byte.

Am currently sat on my laurels with the dog by my side. Will be heading off into the wilds for another walk later. If we can brave the weather... the sunshine of Sunday seems a distant memory for today is blustery and wet as an otters pocket. Darn.