10-2 Police

Driving home from nursery today, a voice (my muse perhaps) pipes up with some friendly advice... "Two hands!"

Two hands? I realise I'm driving with one hand idling on my knee.

"Two hands, Mummy" the little voice quips once again.

I correct my minor misdemeanour, both hands on the wheel and checking mirrors as if I'm back in my driving test. All is well for a while, we chat about what's for dinner and how I'm going to make it and then again I hear:

"Two hands Mummy!" then more urgently "Do it!

I'm cough guiltily like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. And then I realise I've turned a corner losing my left hand to the gearstick, albeit momentarily. Slightly bemused, we carry on the conversation, only for me to realise that every time I take my left hand off the wheel, hawkeye-Grace in the back will be on my case.

This is all well and good, I counted only fifteen rounds of gear changing on the way home today, enough to niggle at even the most battle-hardened school-run Mums. I'm stymied though - I'm driving us from Yorkshire to Cornwall in a few weeks and the thought of answering the to the 10-2 Police in the back is already filling me with dread!

Excited at the prospect of a day at nursery!

Silent Sunday

Late spring at Temple Newsam

Berrie good friends

Today we had the luxury of shirking housework in lieu of a play date with two good friends, Joanne and her daughter Berrie. We met at the Children's Centre in the village right after the girls were born, when we were both green to motherhood and still in the fog of midwife visits, shock and awe. It's not often we get to meet up now since I started back at work full time and meets are shoe horned into a window on a weekend, but when we do meet up it doesn't take Grace long to shake off her shyness and get down to some good old fashioned play.

My Hewo

Aside from being a great friend and poking his tongue out at random moments throughout the day, Jack Barrett is apparently now also Grace's 'Hewo'.

Driving home in the car from nursery, chatting about her day as we do, Grace is telling me in great detail the ups and downs of her day. She's painted, played in the garden, read stories and all in good spirits until she fell off the slide sideways and hurting her leg. But it's ok, because 'Jack Bawwatt pulled me up' she tells me dramatically and goes on to say that he hugged her better and stopped her crying.

After all that commotion, James stole Grace's Mr Rabbit (which caused a major hoo-harr) and 'Jack Bawwatt got it back for me' (which averted catastrophe) and left Grace feeling content again because not only is Jack her 'fwend', he's her 'hewo' as well. God love him.

 

 



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

Silent Sunday

Chasing the wind

Making it balance

I'm tear arsing round Yorkshire in school-holiday traffic (which is a blessing if you read between the lines), juggling so many balls I'd be surprised if I could find my own arse in a snow storm amidst all the chaos. And yet when I walk in the door after the journey home from work, collecting child and Husband en-route, I put on the 'face' as I like to call it, and prepare a meal while supervising the painting of great works of art by the little one (which apparently include her face).

At the  precise moment I realise I'm burning the sauteed spuds because my back is turned to feed the dog and open the post,  I see THIS big smile of Grace - splashes of paint and joy across her face, and I think for a moment how it's all worth it.

(And then of course I set the alarm for 5.30am again tomorrow morning and I dig deep in the basement of my being to breathe in the joy and let go of the stress of quick-fire round that epitomises my Monday to Friday life).

Chardonnay? Because I'm worth it!

Totes babe!

The new trend for Grace is the art of abbreviation. Mummy at times becomes Mum, Daddy becomes Dad and Daisy has now started being referred to as Days. At times. When she's in the mood.

Other abbreviations forming part of the little ones vocabulary are Grams (Grandma), dode (dody / dummy) and a non-abbreviation which is Daddy-baddy-booby. There's a story behind that one, Holly Willoughby and Keith Lemon off the tele implicated, and it's proving to be a tough one to shake off. All things considered if that's the worst Grace can come up with then we're not doing too badly.

Another trend of the season appears to be the art of likening ones body parts to those of others. Grace, apparently (so she tells me), has little boobies like Daddy. Not like Mummy's which apparently are much bigger and wobble when I walk (and no doubt will drift further south as the big 40 looms closer when I imagine I shall be able to knock said knockers into the waistband of by M&S support pants). Fortunately we haven't yet had to progress into the conversation about the birds and the bee's - Grace seemingly content to know that Daddy has an apendage she and I do not.

At 2 years 8 months, she's totes amazeballs.

Silent Sunday

The going is good to firm for the Grand National...

Easter fun

Short of things to say but never short of things to see and do, we spend Easter weekend with my Dad chalking off a few of the Yorkshire 'warm inside' destinations. Battling the snow which is still refusing to melt, Grace had a fun packed weekend with lots of variety and plenty of memories.

Maybe one day I'll find my voice again and start blogging instead of just posting photographs but everyone needs a wee break once in a while, so in the meantime, pics of our Easter fun...



Making Easter cornflake nests



Exploring the body-zone at Eureka!



Combining a love of dance, art and farmyard animals



Grace's painted Easter 'Mr Egg'



With Grandpa at Tropical World



Snow days in Halifax



Happy Birthday to Daisy-woof (pilchard, carrot & nut butter)