Maia Breaks My Heart

About a week after the move, the house was in chaos, we were all still ill and a bit grumpy, including Maia. Mum and I were sat down to dinner with her (porridge - the only thing she felt like eating) and she looked up at me, eyes like a wounded Bambi, and said

'I want to go home'

Well, my heart broke. I stumbled through a garbled explanation that we were home, this was our new home, and that she would feel better soon, I promise. Then I gave her a jellybean to try and cheer her up, all the while trying not to cry (and feeling guilty about the sugar).

The weight of the responsibility was crushing. I knew she would be happy in this house, this school, this city but that it would take time. A big concept to relate to a two year old.

It is about six weeks since we moved, and she now feels that this house is home. In fact pretty much as soon as the cold cleared up, she cheered up loads. We drive up the hill and she shouts 'That is my house! Look! Not the white one!' and can recite '42a Upper Albert Road' when you ask her where she lives....usually followed by an unprompted 'Maia....Ani-Jo....Sunshine...PackingtonCull!'

So, she knows who she is, where she lives, and she likes both. I think we are doing pretty good.

Mummy Ain't Vidal Sassoon...Again

So, Maia needed a haircut. What she didn't need was me, weilding kitchen shears, saying 'Oh for God's sake, it can't be that hard!'

Especially after she walked around for 2 months last time with a slightly wonky fringe.

It is not so much wonky now as "textured". She has two crowns, so her hair falls forward quite far, and the 'Hair Repair Artist' who fixed the last attempt told us to pin the back bit, well...back, and the fringe would then fall forward.

Whoever invented hairclips for two year olds does not have one. Or, has never been near one. Possibly never even seen one. As soon as I got the clip clipped in, Maia took it out. Ah ha.

Time to employ the Simultanious Distraction Technique. "Ooh, look, something shiny!" while clipping in the clip, then seamlessly moving her on to something fun to do that involved lots of Not Taking the Hairclip Out.

Later on, hairclip still in place, I told her she looked lovely. In fact, I think I actually said 'Your hairclip looks so lovely, Miss Maia!' Which of course meant she took it out to have look at it.

Oh bugger it, pushing hair out her eyes gives her some exercise...

At The Movies

We have two huge bookcases flanking the fireplace in the front room. Tack up a white sheet, and you have a perfect movie screen. Add a comfy sofa, a duvet and a selection of snacks from the kitchen, and voila! MovieTime at 42a.

Our first screening for Maia was Finding Nemo. She found him just fabulous. The added joy of having an illicit sitting room picnic of crackers and crab dip ('I'm having fish tonight!'), while watching the action on a big screen really excited her.

So far we have shown Finding Nemo, The Incredibles, Monsters Inc, The Cat in the Hat, Shrek 2... There is talk of being able to connect the cable to the projector so we could have giant tv as well, but, given the quality of the programmes she enjoys, and we are forced to endure, I think we will stick to movies. 3 foot high Tweenies, anyone?

Walking at the Weekend

It started well. Really, it did. We went and had lunch in a country pub (scampi and chips for me, steak for Pat, and whale shaped fish fingers for Maia. Don't think Jamie Oliver would have approved, but it was tasty and cheap).

Full, we started out to the car to go get ready to Go Walking. Our 'Pub Walks in South Yorkshire' book said this one was nice and easy, 2.5 miles around a reservoir with ample ducks and swans and other 'Ooh, look, Maia' opportunities.

Then it started to snow. Then Maia's very warm, but highly impractical Russian Real Bunny Fur hat kept falling off. Then her wellies came off. Then she didn't want to be in the backpack. Then she didn't want to walk. Then her parents started to snit at each other. Then one said 'Fine, you go bloody walking, and I'll sit in the car with Maia.' Then the other said 'Fine!' and stomped off. Then the other parent realised she didn't want to sit in the car for an hour and followed.

An uneasy truce, followed by about 20 minutes of really nice Family Day stuff (running from scary swans, pointing at funny looking cyclists) was shattered when a cold, tired, and frankly pretty pissed off child decided Enough Was Enough and howled the rest of the way back to the car.

Perhaps we will try again in the summertime.