One sunny day I made the mistake of telling Maia that, if she didn't wear socks with her pink shoes, she would get stinky feet.
This now means that as soon as we get in the car from nursery, she whips off her shoes and socks and spends most of the journey home demanding that I smell her feet.
Right now, she still smells pretty sweet. Her toes are a little sweaty, but not actually stinky. I do hope it is something we can wean her off before she actually starts getting wiffy.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Role Play - Not So Fun for Daddy
Couple days ago at the park (in between sniffling and demanding that I play Billy Goats Gruff on the wooden bridge), Maia decided we were going to play Families. She would be Daddy, Daddy would be The Baby and Mummy would be Mummy. Got that?
Being The Baby was, without doubt, the most work. Pat was presented with a pine cone to use as a pacifier, a cardboard bee as a bottle and, just to ramp up the parental embarrassment factor, Maia wanted to change his nappy. In the park. In public.
She was quite insistent, as well. We were kind of stunned and not sure what to do - do you stop it because someone, somewhere might think it is inappropriate to play nappy changing, specifically with Daddy? She changes her teddies' nappies, when they are playing The Baby. Daddy was The Baby, so he needed a nappy change.
In the end, it was over in seconds. Weird though. It is awkward when their totally innocent play gets muddled up in our very adult ideas about bodies and how we should relate to children.
The game was abandoned pretty soon after. We opted for the coward's way out of Far More Billy Goat's Gruff, Far Less Nappy Changing Daddy in the Park. In public.
Being The Baby was, without doubt, the most work. Pat was presented with a pine cone to use as a pacifier, a cardboard bee as a bottle and, just to ramp up the parental embarrassment factor, Maia wanted to change his nappy. In the park. In public.
She was quite insistent, as well. We were kind of stunned and not sure what to do - do you stop it because someone, somewhere might think it is inappropriate to play nappy changing, specifically with Daddy? She changes her teddies' nappies, when they are playing The Baby. Daddy was The Baby, so he needed a nappy change.
In the end, it was over in seconds. Weird though. It is awkward when their totally innocent play gets muddled up in our very adult ideas about bodies and how we should relate to children.
The game was abandoned pretty soon after. We opted for the coward's way out of Far More Billy Goat's Gruff, Far Less Nappy Changing Daddy in the Park. In public.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
My Little Angle
Maia has a cold. She developed it at record breaking speed, too - I noticed a couple of bogies while we were at the park yesterday, and within 20 minutes rivers of The Green Stuff were flowing from her nostrils.
When she has NoseNiagara, her sleep tends to be really disturbed. In the early part of the evening I was in her room four times to wipe her nose, tuck her back in and pick her up off the floor as she rolled out of bed (twice). I decided that she would be better off in a big bed with me, so I could do all the necessary caretaking within the comfy environs of my own duvet.
Pat relocated to the spare room with something approaching glee, as it meant he got the bed, the whole bed, and nothing but the bed.
Maia and I settled down pretty well. Then, in one co-ordinated and expertly planned manoeuvre, she wiggled herself perpendicular to me. Feet tucked under my tummy, she pushed, and I found myself spilling over the side. OK, I thought, I'll pick her up and move her.
Done.
Just as I was falling back asleep, she did it again.
This time, I thought I would be clever. I also moved across the bed, so apart from my feet dangling over the edge, we had loads of space.
It was at that point that she started to get sarcastic. She went at right angles again, head on pillows at the top of the bed. I gave up.
We slept fitfully, and Maia woke me up early to say that I wasn't sleeping in the bed right.
"You should sleep at the top of the bed, Mummy, like this" she said, angelic in the bright morning sunshine.
Uh huh.
When she has NoseNiagara, her sleep tends to be really disturbed. In the early part of the evening I was in her room four times to wipe her nose, tuck her back in and pick her up off the floor as she rolled out of bed (twice). I decided that she would be better off in a big bed with me, so I could do all the necessary caretaking within the comfy environs of my own duvet.
Pat relocated to the spare room with something approaching glee, as it meant he got the bed, the whole bed, and nothing but the bed.
Maia and I settled down pretty well. Then, in one co-ordinated and expertly planned manoeuvre, she wiggled herself perpendicular to me. Feet tucked under my tummy, she pushed, and I found myself spilling over the side. OK, I thought, I'll pick her up and move her.
Done.
Just as I was falling back asleep, she did it again.
This time, I thought I would be clever. I also moved across the bed, so apart from my feet dangling over the edge, we had loads of space.
It was at that point that she started to get sarcastic. She went at right angles again, head on pillows at the top of the bed. I gave up.
We slept fitfully, and Maia woke me up early to say that I wasn't sleeping in the bed right.
"You should sleep at the top of the bed, Mummy, like this" she said, angelic in the bright morning sunshine.
Uh huh.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Favourite Songs
Pat has a little blue iPod mini (...oooooh, pretty!) and has gathered together a selection of songs to play for Maia in the car. Here is what Maia is mostly listening to at the moment:
Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport Rolf Harris
The Court of King Caratacus Rolf Harris
Ning Nang Nong Spike Milligan
Hippo Rhinostricow Spike Milligan
Louie Louie The Kingsmen
The Monster Patrick 'The Daddy' Cull
Sing a Rainbow Patrick 'The Daddy' Cull
Colonel Hathi's March Jungle Book
The Bare Necessities Jungle Book
I Wan'na Be Like You Jungle Book
We try and time our entrance to the school car park so that we are blasting out Colonel Hathi's March (the elephant one from Jungle Book) on our arrival. Helps with getting her up the hill...
'Quick....MARCH! Hup two three four, giddiup two three four...'
Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport Rolf Harris
The Court of King Caratacus Rolf Harris
Ning Nang Nong Spike Milligan
Hippo Rhinostricow Spike Milligan
Louie Louie The Kingsmen
The Monster Patrick 'The Daddy' Cull
Sing a Rainbow Patrick 'The Daddy' Cull
Colonel Hathi's March Jungle Book
The Bare Necessities Jungle Book
I Wan'na Be Like You Jungle Book
We try and time our entrance to the school car park so that we are blasting out Colonel Hathi's March (the elephant one from Jungle Book) on our arrival. Helps with getting her up the hill...
'Quick....MARCH! Hup two three four, giddiup two three four...'
Monday, June 20, 2005
A Competitive Streak
Maia is into racing, or more accurately, winning at the moment.
'I'll race you to the top of the stairs!' is a great way to get her upstairs and motivated for a bath - her reluctance to leave whatever she was doing totally forgotten in the rush to be first.
'I'm going to win!' she gleefully shouts, as the grown-ups luxuriate in the fact that they are winning a bigger game.
This weekend we went for a really cool walk in the countryside. We saw sheep, cows and ducks, and then had a few rousing choruses of Baa Baa Black Sheep and Old MacDonald. We did a mini nature trail and learnt about stinging nettles (the easy way, no dock leaves required), searched for and found pinecones, picked buttercups and tested them against our chin.
After sausage rolls and ice-cream and oranges, we began to make our way back to the car. Maia was on the verge of fractiousness, and was demanding that we carry her. Instead (with a view to an early bedtime) we decided to race to the car. I was winning, and then Maia shouted in a stern, borrowed tone
'Stop, Mummy. It is not a race.'
Then she put on a dash of speed, overtook on the inside and got out in front.
She would have won anyway, but boy, she gets extra points for cunning.
'I'll race you to the top of the stairs!' is a great way to get her upstairs and motivated for a bath - her reluctance to leave whatever she was doing totally forgotten in the rush to be first.
'I'm going to win!' she gleefully shouts, as the grown-ups luxuriate in the fact that they are winning a bigger game.
This weekend we went for a really cool walk in the countryside. We saw sheep, cows and ducks, and then had a few rousing choruses of Baa Baa Black Sheep and Old MacDonald. We did a mini nature trail and learnt about stinging nettles (the easy way, no dock leaves required), searched for and found pinecones, picked buttercups and tested them against our chin.
After sausage rolls and ice-cream and oranges, we began to make our way back to the car. Maia was on the verge of fractiousness, and was demanding that we carry her. Instead (with a view to an early bedtime) we decided to race to the car. I was winning, and then Maia shouted in a stern, borrowed tone
'Stop, Mummy. It is not a race.'
Then she put on a dash of speed, overtook on the inside and got out in front.
She would have won anyway, but boy, she gets extra points for cunning.
Friday, June 17, 2005
Maia Meets Patrick
Patrick Balfe, a friend of my mother's from Nassau, stayed with us for a few days last week. Maia was slightly unsure of him for about 3 seconds, but after he complimented her enthusiastically on her lovely wellie boots, she warmed up.
So much so, in fact, that Patrick got a full introduction to both sets of wellie boots - blue and pink. He dutifully exclaimed their splendiferousness, and this spurred Maia on to show him her matching umbrella. Once all the ingredients for a game of 'It Is Raining Inside' were assembled, she tramped about the kitchen, wellies and umbrellas ahoy, trying to protect everybody from the rain.
A very successful visitor indeed. One breakfast-time he even let her try his (precious) Frank Cooper's Orange Marmalade. I think she really wanted to like it, and exclaimed how it was very nice, until the taste actually hit her. At which point it, and the toast it was on, was summarily ejected. Maybe next time.
So much so, in fact, that Patrick got a full introduction to both sets of wellie boots - blue and pink. He dutifully exclaimed their splendiferousness, and this spurred Maia on to show him her matching umbrella. Once all the ingredients for a game of 'It Is Raining Inside' were assembled, she tramped about the kitchen, wellies and umbrellas ahoy, trying to protect everybody from the rain.
A very successful visitor indeed. One breakfast-time he even let her try his (precious) Frank Cooper's Orange Marmalade. I think she really wanted to like it, and exclaimed how it was very nice, until the taste actually hit her. At which point it, and the toast it was on, was summarily ejected. Maybe next time.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Northern Sole
Well, it has begun. Maia's inevitable slide from the rounded, long vowels of Southern England to the flatter, shorter sounds of the Northern tongue.
We were in the park last week, being prevented from getting any speed up on the slide by her wellie boots. I suggested she take them off, and try again. This produced the expected speed and 'whhhhheeeeee'. So successful, that she padded up the stairs in her pink and purple socks to go again.
I heard her chattering to herself, and as I tuned in, I heard it.
'My socks will get all mooky. Mooky mooky mooky socks'
Not mucky (or mah-ky, I suppose) but 'mooky'.
Next stop glass, grass, bath and looove. The transformation has begun.
We were in the park last week, being prevented from getting any speed up on the slide by her wellie boots. I suggested she take them off, and try again. This produced the expected speed and 'whhhhheeeeee'. So successful, that she padded up the stairs in her pink and purple socks to go again.
I heard her chattering to herself, and as I tuned in, I heard it.
'My socks will get all mooky. Mooky mooky mooky socks'
Not mucky (or mah-ky, I suppose) but 'mooky'.
Next stop glass, grass, bath and looove. The transformation has begun.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Maia's Room In Pictures
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
'I Don't Beleeeeeive It'
To celebrate the sunshine - yes really, in Sheffield! - we had a barbecue and ate outside last night. Maia didn't really enjoy it that much. Never-the-less, she spotted that we were enjoying ourselves and in an effort to fit in, began exclaiming how lovely everything was.
'This is REALLY lovely' she said, her face betraying her true feelings. 'I really like this.' Then, rather bizarrely, she channeled Victor Meldrew and said 'I don't beleeeeeive it!' It was a really surreal moment. It was as though she was taking the piss. I looked at her for a beat, remembered she is only 2 1/2 and decided to think of it this way.
She is a very social little being, likes being around people. If she is unsure about a situation, she will take her cue from the people around her, like we all do. I suppose she is in the process of learning how to disguise her true feelings in order to fit in with the group.
Another possibility is that we do have a habit of talking things up...'Come on then Pickle, let's go and have a bath! It'll be really fun!' when she knows full well it really won't be as fun as the painting/drawing/running around that she was doing at the time.
Then again, she might just be the most sarcastic toddler ever. I will let you know.
'This is REALLY lovely' she said, her face betraying her true feelings. 'I really like this.' Then, rather bizarrely, she channeled Victor Meldrew and said 'I don't beleeeeeive it!' It was a really surreal moment. It was as though she was taking the piss. I looked at her for a beat, remembered she is only 2 1/2 and decided to think of it this way.
She is a very social little being, likes being around people. If she is unsure about a situation, she will take her cue from the people around her, like we all do. I suppose she is in the process of learning how to disguise her true feelings in order to fit in with the group.
Another possibility is that we do have a habit of talking things up...'Come on then Pickle, let's go and have a bath! It'll be really fun!' when she knows full well it really won't be as fun as the painting/drawing/running around that she was doing at the time.
Then again, she might just be the most sarcastic toddler ever. I will let you know.
Fear of Flying (Things)
Maia has developed a very real fear of Things That Fly. Despite my attempts to show her that they can't hurt her, she cowers when midges, flies, bees - pretty much anything winged and mobile comes her way. Spiders don't seem to phase her. Snakes she has only seen in books, but they don't seem to present problems. Just winged insects.
'A buzzy bee!' she says, as soon as she sees something approaching, and adopts a look of such fear that at first I thought she was joking. It was only as she cowered, hiding her head in her hands, that I realised that she isn't that good at acting.
A healthy respect for bees and wasps is a good thing, I think, but her fears seem to be getting to her even at night. She woke up a few days ago complaining of bees that stung her knees during the night. I tried to explain that it was a dream - a story in her head that didn't really happen. She looked at me, wide-eyed and affronted, and informed me that, actually it did.
Going to go and buy some books about friendly flies, and productive bees. Maybe I'll try and deflect her fear onto something useful like car filled roads, or sharp things. But for now we will have to keep ducking.
'A buzzy bee!' she says, as soon as she sees something approaching, and adopts a look of such fear that at first I thought she was joking. It was only as she cowered, hiding her head in her hands, that I realised that she isn't that good at acting.
A healthy respect for bees and wasps is a good thing, I think, but her fears seem to be getting to her even at night. She woke up a few days ago complaining of bees that stung her knees during the night. I tried to explain that it was a dream - a story in her head that didn't really happen. She looked at me, wide-eyed and affronted, and informed me that, actually it did.
Going to go and buy some books about friendly flies, and productive bees. Maybe I'll try and deflect her fear onto something useful like car filled roads, or sharp things. But for now we will have to keep ducking.
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