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| The counting game |
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| With Grace Rebecca at St. Aidans RSPB reserve |
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| Taking a breather from playing Wildlife Bingo at the RSPB reseve |
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| En route to buy an ice-cream from the shop |
Sunday, 30 June 2013
Our lovely village
Sunday, 23 June 2013
Saturday, 15 June 2013
Oh Bovver!
I'm living with Eliza Doolittle. I am Professor Higgins in reverse.
One night my little sweet natured dot went to bed, slept and woke the next day with a Cockney gene. Or Essex perhaps. Not water, wa-er. Not Peter, pe-er. Not later, la-er. Not a friggin T in sight. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I'm sure the little blighter is only doing it for effect but apart from the occasional visit from family darn sarf, I've no idea where it's coming from. Certainly not me.
It's a pet hate of mine, poor enunciation and I'm exasperated. We started off ignoring her. Now we're correcting her but I'm in two minds as I think we're reinforcing the negative behaviour and should be rewarding the good? I'm sure she's doing it on purpose - the freedom of choice to say words one way or another.... I can see it in her eyes, the triumph that she knows she's getting one over on me and I suppose in the grandest scheme of things it could be something worse but my goodness, it riles me!
At breaking point yesterday I wanted to reach for the gaffer tape and stop the noise. I did threaten but she told me she wasn't bovvered by my threats. Wotever.
I'm hoping it's just a phase.
One night my little sweet natured dot went to bed, slept and woke the next day with a Cockney gene. Or Essex perhaps. Not water, wa-er. Not Peter, pe-er. Not later, la-er. Not a friggin T in sight. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I'm sure the little blighter is only doing it for effect but apart from the occasional visit from family darn sarf, I've no idea where it's coming from. Certainly not me.
It's a pet hate of mine, poor enunciation and I'm exasperated. We started off ignoring her. Now we're correcting her but I'm in two minds as I think we're reinforcing the negative behaviour and should be rewarding the good? I'm sure she's doing it on purpose - the freedom of choice to say words one way or another.... I can see it in her eyes, the triumph that she knows she's getting one over on me and I suppose in the grandest scheme of things it could be something worse but my goodness, it riles me!
At breaking point yesterday I wanted to reach for the gaffer tape and stop the noise. I did threaten but she told me she wasn't bovvered by my threats. Wotever.
I'm hoping it's just a phase.
Sunday, 9 June 2013
Tuesday, 4 June 2013
Toad in the Hole
She'll not thank me for writing this, but Grace has reached a new milestone. I'm marking the occasion with a rare pic of Grace and me. Why? To capture that look on her face - slight concern, intrigue, awe...
Minding my own business as one does, I become acutely aware that Grace has made a discovery. She's found a 'hole' and she needs to know what it is. Quickly. I turn to see her pointing at her nether regions and appealing to me with a quizzical look that says 'am I broken?' and 'what is it?' all at once without uttering a vowel.
I ignore her. Just this once - I excuse myself and carry on drying myself - we're in the changing room after swim class.
She doesn't let up. She asks me again - 'what is it?' and then 'have you got one Mummy?'
Gritting my teeth and with hushed tones, ignoring the other mothers I can hear masking laughs with coughs, politely dressing their own children who don't ask such questions in the changing room at swim class.
'Well', I tell her, 'its something mother nature put there when you were born'.
She nods, seemingly satisfied with my response and content to step into her knickers, hiding the offending apparition.
'Show me yours Mummy!' she demands, tugging at my towel. We argue the pro's and con's of this for what seems like an eternity until she eventually settles for modesty and let's the conversation move on. My negotiation skills were hammered. Out of the woods and with a sigh of relief, I go back to mentally checking off the online grocery order I plan to do when I get home in my head.
'Has Daddy got one?' she brings me back to the hear and now. Toddler Adam in the next cubicle giggles, Grace stifles a yawn. The discovery trail is tiring.
'No sweetie, Daddy is a boy. He has something different'.
'A sausage Mummy?'
And at that moment I realise, amidst the sniggering from the Mum next door, that not only is Grace inquisitive and bright, she's a mind reader as well. Sausages off the shopping list, I make a note to substitute the Toad in the Hole I had planned for supper. It's enough to put you off your food.
Minding my own business as one does, I become acutely aware that Grace has made a discovery. She's found a 'hole' and she needs to know what it is. Quickly. I turn to see her pointing at her nether regions and appealing to me with a quizzical look that says 'am I broken?' and 'what is it?' all at once without uttering a vowel.
I ignore her. Just this once - I excuse myself and carry on drying myself - we're in the changing room after swim class.
She doesn't let up. She asks me again - 'what is it?' and then 'have you got one Mummy?'
Gritting my teeth and with hushed tones, ignoring the other mothers I can hear masking laughs with coughs, politely dressing their own children who don't ask such questions in the changing room at swim class.
'Well', I tell her, 'its something mother nature put there when you were born'.
She nods, seemingly satisfied with my response and content to step into her knickers, hiding the offending apparition.
'Show me yours Mummy!' she demands, tugging at my towel. We argue the pro's and con's of this for what seems like an eternity until she eventually settles for modesty and let's the conversation move on. My negotiation skills were hammered. Out of the woods and with a sigh of relief, I go back to mentally checking off the online grocery order I plan to do when I get home in my head.
'Has Daddy got one?' she brings me back to the hear and now. Toddler Adam in the next cubicle giggles, Grace stifles a yawn. The discovery trail is tiring.
'No sweetie, Daddy is a boy. He has something different'.
'A sausage Mummy?'
And at that moment I realise, amidst the sniggering from the Mum next door, that not only is Grace inquisitive and bright, she's a mind reader as well. Sausages off the shopping list, I make a note to substitute the Toad in the Hole I had planned for supper. It's enough to put you off your food.
Sunday, 2 June 2013
Sundown Adventure
Saddling up for a day out with the Kings, we strode off into the lowlands for a fun-toting, fun-slinging day out in the wild wild west at Sundown Adventure Land in the shire of Nottingham. Grace was characteristically reserved to begin with, a fair dose of leg-hugging endured. After a while though she gained confidence, broke free of my leg and encouraged by Evangelia and Dimitris let loose full bore, driving tractors, trains and pony's with about as much life left in them as me after a long week at work. Such a great day out! I must confess I had no idea what to expect and I enjoyed it a whole lot more than I'd though I would. Absolutely money well spent.... thank you Sundown! I even managed to sweet talk the grown ups into a wheelbarrow race which I haven't done since my wedding night, and a little headstand/handstand competition. Woo-hoo!
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| Christina & Evaneglia... WANTED! |
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| Driving tractors with the Kings... |
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| Grace in the driving seat |
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| Racing away from the ball after Prince C and my slipper! |
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