12 November 2012
01 November 2012
More conversations about boys
Izzy's sitting at the back of the car and we are chatting about her friends, who they are and who she plays with at lunch time.
We've confirmed that T is definitely her suitor of choice though there is report of at least one other who likes her.
It turns out T won Star of the Week twice last year. Very well-behaved, I say approvingly.
Yes, Izzy agrees, looking out the window with a far-off glaze.
"And when he's older he'll have to stop playing football so much."
"Eh? Why's that?"
"So he can talk to me during lunch break of course." (In tone of 'duuh'.)
We've confirmed that T is definitely her suitor of choice though there is report of at least one other who likes her.
It turns out T won Star of the Week twice last year. Very well-behaved, I say approvingly.
Yes, Izzy agrees, looking out the window with a far-off glaze.
"And when he's older he'll have to stop playing football so much."
"Eh? Why's that?"
"So he can talk to me during lunch break of course." (In tone of 'duuh'.)
05 October 2012
Star of the Week
26 September 2012
First crush
Izzy triumphant: Mummy ... did you know? I'm a class computer monitor.
Me: Really? Good.
Izzy: And do you know what else?
Me: What?
Izzy: My <italics>boyfriend</italics> is also a computer monitor.
We've had confessions of the suitability of a little boy as her future husband. It started at the beginning of the summer holidays and has carried all the way through.
Alas and alack young T could not make her birthday party though.
Me: Really? Good.
Izzy: And do you know what else?
Me: What?
Izzy: My <italics>boyfriend</italics> is also a computer monitor.
We've had confessions of the suitability of a little boy as her future husband. It started at the beginning of the summer holidays and has carried all the way through.
Alas and alack young T could not make her birthday party though.
15 August 2012
After reading The Storybook Wolves
Roz: Mummy, the wolf isn't going to take Kitty. Or Teddy. Wolf is in book. He can't get out. And he's flat. And he can't move.
25 July 2012
02 July 2012
Beauty and the Beast
Izzy: If Gaston wants Belle to be his wife, he should stop being so rough and showing her his hairy chest.
06 June 2012
O vanity...
04 June 2012
"I did it!"
01 June 2012
"For tonight's dream..."
"I want to dream I am in the park with lots and lots of things that I like, OK?" Then many loud smacks as Izzy kisses her dream catcher.
I started her telling herself what to dream several months ago when she was afraid to sleep because she'd had nightmares, and it's become quite a routine now. No idea if she actually goes on to dream of what she wants but we've not had complaints of nightmares since.
I started her telling herself what to dream several months ago when she was afraid to sleep because she'd had nightmares, and it's become quite a routine now. No idea if she actually goes on to dream of what she wants but we've not had complaints of nightmares since.
23 May 2012
22 May 2012
15 May 2012
God Save the Queen
Isabel has learned the British anthem in school and been singing it with gusto. Also chiding me for saying I know the song but then failing to be able to sing all the words.
Am watching this development with appalled fascination.
Am watching this development with appalled fascination.
Bedtime
Roz: I lub you!
Me: I love you too (kiss).
Roz: Nooo! You don't lub me! I lub you.
Me: I don't love you?
Roz: No. You lub piggy me.
Izzy: She means you call her piggy and you love her.
Roz: Yeah.
I'll take that.
Me: I love you too (kiss).
Roz: Nooo! You don't lub me! I lub you.
Me: I don't love you?
Roz: No. You lub piggy me.
Izzy: She means you call her piggy and you love her.
Roz: Yeah.
I'll take that.
13 May 2012
01 May 2012
Just been looking at the number of posts for the year and it's been pretty dismal. I totally blame Facebook.
Some things that have stuck in my mind recently though:
1. Isabel running up to me with Roz's smiling portrait, and exclaiming: 'Mummy, Roz is so cute in this picture, I thought it was me!'
And this morning on the way out to the car - and let me just say that this hour of the morning is probably the most stressful in the entire day - Izzy was singing something to me. And I muttered something vaguely about it being hmm yes a nice song.
'Nice? Mummy, it isn't just nice. It's amazing!' (Complete, I promise, with italics.)
2. Roz has started ordering me around. I went back in the blog to see if Izzy had done the same, because it rang bells. And of course she did. And of course she was even more empress-like than Roz is.
Although I've stopped breastfeeding Roz (hallelujah!) she still, when sleeping, or tired, quite likes to have a feel of the equipment. Much as I hate it and have been trying to break her of the habit. I mean there's really nothing like a pair of cold little hands creeping up your shirt and feeling their way about in the middle of the night.
I'll skip the obvious joke.
Anyway so one day she tells me: 'Mummy, I'm not going to touch your boobies, OK? I'm just going to smell them. OK, mummy?' Then she proceeds to lay a cheek on each in turn, sniffing contentedly each time. And then she turns up to me again, looking immensely pleased with herself. 'See mummy? I didn't touch your boobies.'
It's not just me, is it?
Some things that have stuck in my mind recently though:
1. Isabel running up to me with Roz's smiling portrait, and exclaiming: 'Mummy, Roz is so cute in this picture, I thought it was me!'
And this morning on the way out to the car - and let me just say that this hour of the morning is probably the most stressful in the entire day - Izzy was singing something to me. And I muttered something vaguely about it being hmm yes a nice song.
'Nice? Mummy, it isn't just nice. It's amazing!' (Complete, I promise, with italics.)
2. Roz has started ordering me around. I went back in the blog to see if Izzy had done the same, because it rang bells. And of course she did. And of course she was even more empress-like than Roz is.
Although I've stopped breastfeeding Roz (hallelujah!) she still, when sleeping, or tired, quite likes to have a feel of the equipment. Much as I hate it and have been trying to break her of the habit. I mean there's really nothing like a pair of cold little hands creeping up your shirt and feeling their way about in the middle of the night.
I'll skip the obvious joke.
Anyway so one day she tells me: 'Mummy, I'm not going to touch your boobies, OK? I'm just going to smell them. OK, mummy?' Then she proceeds to lay a cheek on each in turn, sniffing contentedly each time. And then she turns up to me again, looking immensely pleased with herself. 'See mummy? I didn't touch your boobies.'
It's not just me, is it?
19 March 2012
14 March 2012
05 March 2012
Out of the dark side
OK so I have a confession to make: Roz turned three last week and I finally, FINALLY stopped breastfeeding her. I know, I know. Freaky or what. I'd tried before believe me but it was always easier to stop the whining by continuing to feed her. But we'd been building up to this birthday a long time. For about six months (I know, pathetic) I'd been going "Roz when you're three, you'll be a big, big girl. NO MORE susu." We'd linked pinkies. We made deals. We made the same deal for about every single night the month leading up to it.
So now she has turned three, my joy knows no bounds. She still comes running into our room in the middle of the night, clutching whatever treasure it is she's taken to bed with her - two muslin cloth "muddies"; three bears of varying size; sometimes a book, whatever - but instead of plonking herself between us, pulling my t-shirt up and making for the udder, she now just shoves her freezing little fingers up my shirt, checks all the equipment is there, and then turns over with a sigh.
The first two nights after her birthday, she would be muttering forlornly to herself "I'm a big, big girl now, not a little baby any more." Fair broke my heart. After that she whined for a bottle. Now she just turns over with a sigh. It really almost does break my heart. When I'm not going ha ha ha ha HAAAAH!
She's also not just realised she can chat now. She sings. We took her and her sister and a friend to watch Matilda the Musical for her birthday. Not quite three-year-old fodder but she sat pretty still for the first two hours and fifteen minutes.
The opening song goes "My mummy says I'm a miracle". I suppose it's some indication still of Roz's lack of speaking till relatively recently that when she asked me in the car the other day for "the miracle song" and then proceeded to sing the first five lines clearly enough that I could hear she knew the words, I was quite floored.
Izzy has been singing them, completely unironically and out loud in the supermarket sometimes, much to my embarrasment: "My mummy says I'm a miracle/ My daddy says I'm his special little guy/ I am a princess/ And I am a prince/ Mum says I'm an angel sent down from the sky. She emphasises all the girls' lines of course and sounds just off-key enough to have made it up herself.
Plus we bought the CD and have been playing it in the car a lot. But it still staggers me that Roz knows the words. She knows the words!
How much of this is down to her hearing aids I don't know at all. But since about a month ago now, she has had what we've been calling her princess ears (forgot to tell her new nursery room and so now they are plain old hearing aids again). I can't really tell whether they've made any difference although her old room leader said she thought she responded more quickly to calls.
As Roz ignores me at will it's difficult to see any effect. But she's been quite good about wearing them (we started with bribes of blocks of chocolate and have worked down to reasonably frequently remembered spoonfuls of manuka honey as bribes).
But speaking of the hearing aids ... they came in a very, very cool bag. So cool I was tempted to ask if a designer had done it for them. I'll post a picture one day. Suffice to say if I'd seen such a bag on sale and it was a bit bigger I would have contemplated buying it for myself. It must be just one of the efforts - others include the ability to have pictures on your aids including football club logos, tattoo designs; the ability to have them in sparkly silicone; put stickers on the plastic bits tucked behind the ears - to make them acceptable in the playground.
I was really quite touched by the amount of effort that seems to have gone into the realisation that kids can be teased about such things and to try and make them cool. Frankly I was waiting to tell Roz she was, bionic but princess ears seemed pretty acceptable to begin with. God bless the NHS. Next week we also start potty training.
All at once Roz is bounding out of toddlerhood.
OK so I have a confession to make: Roz turned three last week and I finally, FINALLY stopped breastfeeding her. I know, I know. Freaky or what. I'd tried before believe me but it was always easier to stop the whining by continuing to feed her. But we'd been building up to this birthday a long time. For about six months (I know, pathetic) I'd been going "Roz when you're three, you'll be a big, big girl. NO MORE susu." We'd linked pinkies. We made deals. We made the same deal for about every single night the month leading up to it.
So now she has turned three, my joy knows no bounds. She still comes running into our room in the middle of the night, clutching whatever treasure it is she's taken to bed with her - two muslin cloth "muddies"; three bears of varying size; sometimes a book, whatever - but instead of plonking herself between us, pulling my t-shirt up and making for the udder, she now just shoves her freezing little fingers up my shirt, checks all the equipment is there, and then turns over with a sigh.
The first two nights after her birthday, she would be muttering forlornly to herself "I'm a big, big girl now, not a little baby any more." Fair broke my heart. After that she whined for a bottle. Now she just turns over with a sigh. It really almost does break my heart. When I'm not going ha ha ha ha HAAAAH!
She's also not just realised she can chat now. She sings. We took her and her sister and a friend to watch Matilda the Musical for her birthday. Not quite three-year-old fodder but she sat pretty still for the first two hours and fifteen minutes.
The opening song goes "My mummy says I'm a miracle". I suppose it's some indication still of Roz's lack of speaking till relatively recently that when she asked me in the car the other day for "the miracle song" and then proceeded to sing the first five lines clearly enough that I could hear she knew the words, I was quite floored.
Izzy has been singing them, completely unironically and out loud in the supermarket sometimes, much to my embarrasment: "My mummy says I'm a miracle/ My daddy says I'm his special little guy/ I am a princess/ And I am a prince/ Mum says I'm an angel sent down from the sky. She emphasises all the girls' lines of course and sounds just off-key enough to have made it up herself.
Plus we bought the CD and have been playing it in the car a lot. But it still staggers me that Roz knows the words. She knows the words!
How much of this is down to her hearing aids I don't know at all. But since about a month ago now, she has had what we've been calling her princess ears (forgot to tell her new nursery room and so now they are plain old hearing aids again). I can't really tell whether they've made any difference although her old room leader said she thought she responded more quickly to calls.
As Roz ignores me at will it's difficult to see any effect. But she's been quite good about wearing them (we started with bribes of blocks of chocolate and have worked down to reasonably frequently remembered spoonfuls of manuka honey as bribes).
But speaking of the hearing aids ... they came in a very, very cool bag. So cool I was tempted to ask if a designer had done it for them. I'll post a picture one day. Suffice to say if I'd seen such a bag on sale and it was a bit bigger I would have contemplated buying it for myself. It must be just one of the efforts - others include the ability to have pictures on your aids including football club logos, tattoo designs; the ability to have them in sparkly silicone; put stickers on the plastic bits tucked behind the ears - to make them acceptable in the playground.
I was really quite touched by the amount of effort that seems to have gone into the realisation that kids can be teased about such things and to try and make them cool. Frankly I was waiting to tell Roz she was, bionic but princess ears seemed pretty acceptable to begin with. God bless the NHS. Next week we also start potty training.
All at once Roz is bounding out of toddlerhood.
22 February 2012
19 February 2012
24 January 2012
15 January 2012
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