Wordless Wednesday- ROAR!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone on the move!

My Daughter, the Squirrel

Fifi is now fast approaching 14 months old. She still has a dummy, something we stopped the boy having at 3 months. With some degree of smugness I might add. He retaliated by sucking the ear on his bunny until it got unpalatable enough to make him wretch. Even now after a biotex treatment, a60 degree wash, with Napisan to boot, the thing still smells decidedly sucked.

And so we've been slower to wean the wee lass of her "dum dum" as M'laddo calls it because lets face it, finding a favourite soft toy shouldn't be something you can do via sense of smell with your eyes shut. What this has lead to however is an older and infinitely more cunning toddler who knows what she wants and how to get it.

Recently we've been trying to limit her dummies to the cot, and during the day shes got her rather lovely Sleepytot that has a few dummies attached to it. She knows what we're doing and doesn't agree with it. So she's fighting back and stashing dummies everywhere, like a squirrel hiding nuts for the winter. She'll wander into a room that we've checked thoroughly for dummies and come out seconds later with a long lost dummy in her chops, all the while grinning like a loon.

She even hides them in M'laddos bedroom, such is the depth of her cunning. And if an almost three year old with an obsession with everything being in its place can't find them, what chance do we have?!

My in depth study of traffic lights

This is based on the King Harry Lane Junction in St Albans. (Click on image for full size version.)

Tree-mendous in St Albans.

I'm always bragging to people that I love walking to work. I don't have any of the stress or aggravation that most commuters have, either getting cut up by white man morons in their cars or being rammed on a train with thousands of people who don't know how to cover their mouth when they cough.

There are downsides though. Most of them can be solved by the application of waterproofs, both of the jacket and trouser variety. This is a shame as I forgot both jacket and trousers yesterday so got caught in the thunderstorm that I'd plotted the course of across the south east via my twitter friends. The winds picked up too, making sure that every available part of me got a jolly good drenching. In fact my trousers were still wet to damp in places (much like the shipping forecast) when I put them on this morning and my shoes were far too wet to wear.

And as a motorist you don't often have to put up with trees blocking your route do you? I have been baulked by trees/snow/fences as a motorist but lets face it, its not that regular an occurrence is it?

Psychic Conspiracy

I haven't joined the loony tinfoil hat brigade just yet but I am beginning to suspect our two little ones have some kind of psychic bond that functions in their bedrooms whilst they are asleep.

Fifi and M'laddo are in adjacent rooms, his bed against the same partition wall that her cot is pressed against on the other side. I am utterly convinced they communication via brainwaves in their sleep.

As any regular reader will know, the wee lass isn't the worlds greatest sleeper but there are occasions where she tricks us with a good night or two's sleep. Last night was one of these, she slept through until gone 5am. Of course this was mostly due to the strain of the unconscious telepathy she was doing. At just gone 4am, the boy responded to the telepathy coming his way by waking up and calling "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad". I'm pretty much the only person who he lets settle him at night, so I dragged myself up and into his room.

"Me no see."
"Well you wouldn't, its the middle of the night and dark."
"Me love you and Fifi and Mummy."
"I love you too, go to sleep."

And, apart from lying there with him for ten minutes until he went to sleep, was it. There was no particular reason for him to get me up, other than the fact his sister hadn't woken either of us up. Suspicious? I think so...

Wordless Wednesday- a photo that sums me up

Cough Cough

I am ever so proud of our son because at the age of not quite three he seems to have mastered something that around 98% of the adult population of this country haven't managed to come to grips with. It's not tricky, but the vast majority of the adults I come across can't frickin manage to put their hand over their mouths when they cough.

Posh people, scruffy people, old people (probably distracted by Operation Elderly Persons in the Way) and young people all over the country haven't mastered the simple act of putting their hand over their mouth when they cough. This is proof positive that advertising doesn't work, or the gov. doesn't spend enough on the right ad agency.

I personally don't understand how people that seem otherwise well educated and civilised can behave in such a gross uncouth manner. Do they really think I want to see the back of their throat or the little speckles of phlegm that project from their gaping maw? Do they really think I want their disgusting germs? Or are they just so self centred and selfish they don't care?

Either way, at not quite three, M'laddo has more manners than most people. When I got home to day, he even covered his mouth with a hanky whilst coughing and dabbed at the corners of his mouth afterwards. Yes, he is a particular lad but frankly most people out there could take a leaf out of his book.

Disney DVD's and BD at Amazon

A quick heads up if you absolutely love Disney (like we do, particularly Pixar's stuff). There is currently a BOGOF (buy one get one free) at Amazon. This covers DVD's, Blu Ray's and the special combi packs with both.

I've ordered the Toy Stories as M'laddo is ultra keen on going to cinema to see Toy Story 3 when it comes out.

That Special Trick the Elderly Have

I'll preface this by saying I have nothing against the elderly per se. After all, I'll join their numbers in a few decades time, so it's not worth offending half the population of this country is it?

But there are a few tricks of the trade that the elderly employ that get my blood boiling. Some old bag instigated Operation Elderly Persons in the Way yesterday at Wimpole Hall in the most awkward of circumstances. We'd taken advantage of the National Trusts offer to be inclusive for once and not charge about £40 for the privilege of keeping off the grass and not touching anything whatsoever. The weather was glorious so we left going round the hall to the end of the day, wandering around the farm and look at the (keep of the) lawns.

Part of me wishes we hadn't gone round the hall in the end. Not that it wasn't nice but we did get warned there were a few bottle necks. This proved to be more than a little troublesome as the wee lass was in a determined walking frame of mind. She's only 14 months but a speedy little walker when she wants to and that was the trouble, there was too much to see. This lead on a number of occasions to people bundling past her but thats to be expected really. It only gets annoying when the bundling happens and then the bundler stops almost immediately in front of the bundlee.

This is where the elderly come into the picture and Operation Elderly Persons in the Way begins. We were attempting to get down some fairly steep steps and an old biddy shoved her way between me and M'laddo, and directly in front of the wee lass. She then stopped to look out of a window for an inordinate amount of time, oblivious to the world around her.

She was a very lucky lady, she has no idea how close she came to being pushed down the stairs by wifey :)

Wimpole Hall here we come

If you're reading this and didn't realise it was free National Trust entry weekend, it's not too late! We're in the car on the way to Wimpole Hall near Royston at this very moment. Obviously I'm not driving :)

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone on the move!

The explanation of Rule One (and others)

I did a mightily cryptic post a while back called Rule One: There are No Towels. I feel the need to explain this and some of the other Rules (with a capital ""R" no less) I have managed to discern. This will help aid you in your understanding of the way the universe conspires against you.

Rule One refers to the ineffable fact that whenever you pop into the downstairs toilet, or the bathroom, to wash your hands after changing a nappy or something equally grubby, and wash your hands without first checking to see whether their is anything to dry your hands with, there will be no towel. I have discussed this at length with both real people at work and imaginary people on the internet. It is truth.

There are many other rules but most of these are still in the process of being refined and ordered properly. A brief guide to the work in progress might go something like this:

• Rule 2, when you are almost out of earshot, the only part of a sentence you will hear is your name. The rest with be incomprehensible (thanks Dave);
• Rule 3, you will pass people more often than not in a doorway and thatdorrway will be too narrow.
• Rule 4, it's the wrong butter (thanks Neil)

There are more but we're working hard to refine them. Please feel free to add your observations in the comments.

Wordless Wednesday- We're all going on a bear hunt (at Whipsnade)

Just Who Taught You To Do That?

Was the question I didn't ask our eldest last night. I had other things on my mind at the time- I was lying on my back with the wee lass attempting to remove my testicles with her toes but that was really the sideshow to the main event which was being masterminded by M'laddo.

Whilst his little sister attempted to make me a full on eunuch, M'laddo set about the top of my head with his Bob the Builder(TM) saw with exuberant gusto. He's been asking to do "Bob Work" a lot recently, ever since his Uncle Ben moved house last month, I thought inanely, as the serrated plastic slipped down from my hair to my forehead, moving from a rather pleasant massage to something a little more painful. Another couple of sharp toe digs from the wee lass, just to remind me she was still there and capable of joining in with the carnage. Thanks.

Fortunately I was saved by bath time, and the opportunity for righteous revenge with a bit of hair washing and face scrubbing. I get that look from the pair of them when I wash faces, the sort of look that says, you've won this round, but just wait until you're lying on the floor tomorrow night eh?

Fear of Coldplay

I have a fairly diverse range of musical tastes, the one thing 98.7% of the albums and artists I like have in common is wifey doesn't like them. That's understandable, there aren't many of the Stock Atkin and Waterman generation that grew up listening to the new folk revival stuff and later developed a perchance for 70's progressive rock, so I'll let her off.

So there was much rejoicing last year when, late to the party as ever, I picked up Viva la Vida, the latest Coldplay album. Finally I was coming in from the cold, and listening to some modern stuff instead of King Crimson or Captain Beefheart. However wifey isn't much of a fan of it as its not the classic Coldplay sound.

Likewise I have been roundly ridiculed for owning it. Putting it in a list of my favourite albums of the decade earned me the following comments from my online buddies:

You are dead to me.
Coldplay is to music what a steaming great poo is to interior decor.
I wouldn't touch it with a bargepole.

So there you have it, an album that managed to offend existing Coldplay fans but equally still attract scorn and ridicule from people that label anything that sells more than 1,000 copies as populist claptrap.

I'm off to sulk and listen to the Bonzo Dog Doodah Band. Laters.

Cannibalism is alive and well in St Albans

I had my second unfortunate trip to the doctors this evening. I've had a month to brace myself for it and M'laddo was also half expecting it when we got into the car but it was still a bit upsetting none the less.

You see just over a month ago a small child, probably not unlike my small child, decided to take a bite out of M'laddo at pre school. Because he's a double hard toddler, he made no fuss or anything and it was only at bath time we saw the little neat row of serrated teeth marks on his arm. They were orientated in such a way and in such a position there would be no way he could have done it himself.

He wasn't bothered by it but wifey checked it out with the doctors and they decided on a course of oral antibiotics and a course of hep b vaccinations by injection.

Eeek!

The task fell to me to load M'laddo into the car on a Friday night and drive him to the doctors. For no good reason other than it was a change of routine he was really excited and had decided purely off his own back we were off to buy him a spiderman costume. The difference between expectation and reality isn't really fair on a two year old and I only had a packet of fizzy snake sweets to distract him afterwards.

As always the doctors were running late but M'laddo was in high spirits for the whole visit, chatting away, bright and confident of what the future held. Unfortunately.

Fortunately this time he had an inkling of what was going to happen. He was a little more subdued but still chatty, the chat focusing on the half a dozen rooms he'd rather go into over the nurses room mainly but it was a start. I was also considerably less close to blubbing like a two year old who's just had an injection as I didn't feel like I'd betrayed him.

Wordless Wednesday- Bun Bun

Tip Toeing Around in the Dark

Last night was a bit of an adventure and so on. I'd dragged myself out of bed at the crack of dawn the other week to a business breakfast and wangled a couple of tickets to the England Egypt footy match. Hurrah and huzzah!

The night was cold, the football damp and the trek home eventful (although not as eventful as the trip there, which had a full on loony on the tube. Pink bike and all). But what was cute was the scene I met when I got home at the witching hour. I got changed into my PJ's in the dark and grabbed my teddy bear. And I almost climbed into bed on top of M'laddo. I thought the gentle snoring was wifey but it turned out to be an almost 3 year old!

I managed to winkle him out of the bed with two bunnys and three dinosaurs and back to his bed. My side of the bed was lovely and warm though :)

Wordless Wednesday- Be Afraid

Fantastic Mr Fox

"Boggis and Bunce and Bean, one short, one fat one lean..." If these are words that resonate from your childhood, then you'll probably be aware that Fantastic Mr Fox was recently turned into a film.

It has one of the most stellar vocal casts I've ever seen- George Clooney, Meryl Streep, Michael Gambon and a sly cameo from Jarvis Cocker as Petey, are the highlights but nobody really puts a foot wrong. Unlike a lot of the computer animated affairs, the characters aren't homages to the voice talent either (Will Smith in any animation is definitely Will Smith).

In fact, the animation is in a league of its own. It doesn't try to compete with Pixar because lets be frank, everyone that tries to do that fails miserably but the animation is so charming, you can't help but love it.

But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself here, lets rewind a couple of weeks to a very generous invite to a private screening of Fantastic Mr Fox at 20th Century Fox's offices in London prior to today's DVD release. We also got a pre release copy of the DVD too. Which was nice. So obviously I'd seen the film about 5 times by yesterday morning.

M'laddo hadn't been to the cinema before and I must admit I was a little apprehensive that he would have the ability to concentrate and keep still for the duration of a film at the cinema. It's a bit different at home, he can wander around, grab a cheese sandwich, push his little sister over and so on and so forth. After all, he isn't quite 3 yet.

I shouldn't have worried though because as soon as the 20th Century Fox logo and anthem appeared (something my generation can't really separate from Star Wars), an absolutely smashing grin appeared on his chops that didn't disappear for approximately 83 minutes. He really was transfixed.

The film itself, in case you don't know the plot, follows the titular Mr Fox as he plans one last caper, a raid on the farms of his 3 nemesis's Farmers Boggis, Bunce and Bean. The raids go spectacularly well and incense the farmers. The farmers have their revenge though and try to dig him out of his home. Things escalate and soon it becomes a matter of life of death...

There are so many neat touches, the banter between Mr Fox's son Ash and his cousin Kristophersson are brilliant, really capturing the tension between youngsters. The use of the word "cuss" instead of swearing is inspired and has entered my daily lexicon to boot.

As well as a great vocal cast, the film has a truly cracking soundtrack. The characters wander around with little music players clipped to their belts, a nice touch, to provide us all with some musical accompaniment. We get Beach Boys, Rolling Stones and a new composition from Jarvis Cocker.

All in all its remarkably loyal to the book whilst being its own film and having its own style. I simply love the animation and hope they do another film using the same style. For M'laddo its joined "New BuzzLightyear" and "Flappy Bat" as one of his most favouritist films ever.

High praise indeed!