Reserve some time for me

The evening routine for The Feliciraptor seems to be getting longer. As she has got older we are having to introduce new facets to going to sleep to get her to co-operate, and it is starting to reach the breaking point.

Initially the routine was simple:

Feed her dinner, bathe her, change her, dress her, put her down to sleep.

This soon became:

Feed her, bathe her, change her, dress her, read her a story, put her down to sleep. Continue reading “Reserve some time for me”

What I’d tell him

I know he knows, I can see it when he looks at me. He’ll smile and just carry on regardless pretending that whatever I send was some form of incomprehensible nonsense. I’m not the only one, when anyone else talks to him they just get a look as if to say non comprende monsieur.

Such is life with a one year old, it’s like living in a foreign land in your own home. Simple instructions fall on deaf ears, but at the same time utter one word you shouldn’t have then you are living in fear that will be the one they learn to enunciate.

Continue reading “What I’d tell him”

Me and My Shadow

One of the joys of life is cooking, and I am lucky that I can do this most nights. We have delivered a box full of ingredients and from this we get to make dishes that vary from carbonara to mu shu pork.

It used to be that I would get home, turn on the gas, and have dinner ready for Mrs E when she got home.Now I pick up Feliciraptor from nursery, and A-Rex is at home with his mother, I have the joy of my own little Sous chef to cook with me. While I am dicing onions (pronounced ooo-knee-ons by my second-in-command) I have to be careful of four sets of fingers.

Feliciraptor has reached the age where she is a ‘big girl‘ (at 3 1/2) so feels that she can, and must, do everything me and Mrs E do. It used to be that making her milk in the morning was a 60 second job. Now I have to take her to the fridge, open and pour the milk with her, let her press the buttons on the microwave and walk back upstairs. This process will take fives times as long.
Continue reading “Me and My Shadow”

Being a child while still a child

Trying to identify the moment that I grew up is difficult, mostly because I am still waiting for it. I still have a childlike quality that is equal parts endearing and equal parts annoying. For many this may be a liability but now I have a playmate to mess around with I can see the benefit of keeping my Peter Pan complex.

Too many people of my age have lost the ability to have fun. Too worried about looking silly, or don’t want to take the risk that they might enjoy themselves. Being silly isn’t being grown up and we’re adults, and so should our children be. Everything in life seems to be geared towards making children be adults and it’s not something we are going to pressurise the Feliciraptor or A-Rex with.

I was never forced to grow up and neither shall they be.

Continue reading “Being a child while still a child”

Taming of the Toddler

Tonight I came to a realisation, toddlers are like the weather. More specifically the British weather. It can be sunny one moment and the next hail and thunder and lightening and then sunny again.

Mrs G has just about adjusted to the fact we have weather in the UK and not a climate. Now The Feliciraptor has emerged from the zone of consistent and expected behaviour and become the tumultuous storm of emotions.

Many will argue over the science of ‘Toddler Ageing’ with some in complete denial at the man-made impact on small-child behaviour. What is undeniable is the impact of this extreme attitude. Continue reading “Taming of the Toddler”

No empty threats

The Feliciraptor is a punk. We tell her she is a punk and she just throws a cute face back at me. She has started to reach the age where any trouble or mischief is consciously driven, if she misbehaves she is doing it on purpose. This now means we are having to become strict with her.

The key learning I took from my childhood is if you are going to make a threat it has to be one you are going to follow through on. The child may be a punk but she also knows Daddy is not a pushover.

None of the trouble she causes is from malice, so I refuse to punish her behaviour. Instead we are trying to teach her how her actions affect other people. When she refuses to tidy up we will tidy up for her, but it does mean that some of what we tidy may end up disappearing.
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A little Picasso

Dirty nappies, bottles to wash, uncertain stains to clean. As a parent I get plenty of these on a regular basis and I look forward to the day they stop. There is also one other item that I have conflicting feelings over, another piece of child paraphanelia that I have a copious amount of.

Child artwork.

I have scriblings and paintings aplenty, pasta and food pictures galore. You want glued boxes I got twenty, but who cares, I want more.

Well not that much more because, here is some parenting honesty, almost without exception they are terrible. I know there are some out there who think their child is tapping into their inner Pollock or Dali, but one piece of childwork is cute, two okay but having enough to open an entire gallery takes the value from them.

Continue reading “A little Picasso”