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?
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