Hi all, Sorry it’s been a couple of months since I have put finger to keyboard. You know what life’s like. One minute you're eating your own snot, the next you find that you're all grown up, running about the garden pulling the heads of daffodils… and still eating your own snot!
Actually, I have not grown up as quickly and Mummy and Daddy first thought. They were telling everybody I was 20 months old, but they clearly can’t count as I’m still a few months younger than that. Doesn’t really matter though, as daddy has chucked his baby development books away and allowed me to “freestyle” developmentally at my own speed. I’m right up with the big kids in some things, but I’m not in any real hurry and I quite enjoy where I am right now. It’s nice to have a time in my life where I have no pressure. I spent the first wee bit of my life being monitored and assessed by the Storks so it’s nice just to kick back for a wee while at least. I kinda think that I might be faced with some situations later on in life where I am going to have to put my big girls pants on, thankfully I have Mummy and Daddy making the tough decisions for me at the moment so I can just relax, have fun and be cute little ol’ meeeee! I do loose a bit of sleep at night worrying about Daddy...or, should I say, The Caped Crusader, as he likes to be known these days. Daddy’s loose grip on reality and the belief that he is a Superhero only cast a shadow over what natural talents he does possess, for example, he can sing, and frequently does, all the verse’s of Paradise by the Dashboard Lights while I am having a rub down with a damp chamois and he has also been witnessed to out “Head, Shoulder, Knee’s and Toes”, Broughty Ferry’s finest Boogie Lady. Daddy did say that he will be gripped in another dance off with her in due course.
Let’s not forget about my own talents and super amazing skills, most of which I do tend to keep hidden from the Old’s. Give it a couple of years and I should be tall enough to enter the Open at St Andrew’s. When I win it I’ll be sure to thank Auntie MoMo for letting me practise with Uncle Pat’s Maruman Majesty Prestigio Driver in the backies. Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned the golf clubs…hmmm, Oh, well, too late:-0
So, Gentle Reader, what has been happening over the past few months….. no, no, don’t answer yourself, it was a rhetorical question silly. Well, most of you will be aware that I have lived a whirlwind life of social functions and Code Browns since the Storks delivered me. Well, nothing much has changed really. I still enjoy being the centre of attention, babbling and chattering with the best of them and the code browns still come thick and fast, if you will pardon the phrase, due to me not taking any interest in the potty which sit’s, waiting patiently for me to poop in. It’s not like I don’t understand the concept, but at the moment it’s much more fun to use it as a hat than to park my bum on it. To be honest, it’s kinda boring... bog standard you might say... tee hee. Mummy and Daddy were supposed to be getting me one which was recommended on Facebook by a “Friend” who they “Liked”. This potty was the Lexus model of potty’s and even dispensed stickers when one had done a poo. That’s the bad boy that I want. None of your rubbish potty’s, with no flashing lights or sticker dispensers, from the local ASDA.
Goodness, I fare got myself worked up there didn’t I. Actually worked up might be a good middle name for me had Mummy and Daddy not given me far better ones. I like my middle names and it’s nice to be named after my Granny and a Cook, who Daddy say’s, saved his life. I’m sure I shall hear a lot more about these folk and others as I grow up. Mummy and Daddy’s people automatically become my people too. Them’s the rules!
Gentle Reader, See these Terrible Two’s, no fun at all, I said nooooo fun at all. My brain has decided that I am really keen to develop and explore, but I haven’t quite got the physical ability to really do all that I want to yet. I’m not too hot on sharing either and I certainly don’t figure into situations what other people want. I take the strop really easy and I seem to burst into tears for no reason. Daddy says he’s used to this from other members of the household, so nothing really comes as a shock to him. He’s just grateful that all the sharp implements are out of reach for me at the moment. He said he was contemplating building a shed in a few years time in which to seek sanctuary.
My routine has also changed a lot too. Mummy has gone back to her full time career as a Take a Break Agony Aunt and I now packed off to be looked after during the day by my child minder, Windie. I’m good with all this though. Windie has other Little People which I really enjoy playing with, so I have lots of fun. Daddy always makes my lunch for me and writes me a wee note saying how much I am loved and what delicacy I am having for Lunch. Daddy must think I have the short term memory of a goldfish if he doesn’t think that I don’t realise that he is simply giving me the leftovers from the previous evening’s dinner with some added sweetcorn. They do try though, so hats off to them. Even at 2 am when I wake up, having decided I am bored and want a cuddle, Daddy will nudge Mummy out of bed to go and fetch me. I really enjoy doing this, but try my hardest not to kick the backside out of it. I suspect sleep deprivation is not what Mummy and Daddy intentionally signed up to, although I am sure that they realised that it would probably come as part of a package deal. I take it easy on both of them as I figure that I had a head start on them and they have to do a wee bit of catching up.
On the whole I think I am a pretty good Little Person. I suspect threats of “We’ll tell Santa”, “we’ll tell the Easter Bunny and latterly “We’ll tell the sheriff” have all been utilised effectively to curb my wayward tendencies to some degree. With this in mind, Mummy and Daddy decided to have me blessed. Daddy joked.... at least I hope he joked....that the reason for this was that he would be able to tell God if I was being naughty. Silly Daddy.
Mummy and Daddy tell me that they had been married by a Hospital Chaplain a gazillion years ago and had such a nice time that they thought it would be nice to have me blessed and welcomed into the family by another Chaplain, this time fea the cooncil….as they say around these parts. Daddy also thought it would be a good idea to ask mummy to renew their wedding vows at the same time. I seem to remember mummy was happy about this right up until the moment when daddy broke the news that there would be no new rings.
Mummy and Daddy started planning my big day by having a meeting with Charlie (The Chaplain). He’s Daddy’s works Chaplain so Daddy kinda knew him from reading his email sermons over the past year. Every month Charlie emailed a short story to the good people of the local Cooncil. These parables, like any good episode of iCarly had a point to them and, very much like iCarly one had to sometimes look for the less obvious instructive lesson therein. Anyway, Charlie was a top man, if a little “Avant Garde” but, as Mummy and Daddy had seldom done things in life in a in any way at the right time or straightforwardly, Charlie was indeed the man for the job.
The initial meeting with Charlie was somewhat spoilt by the Hound jumping up on him quicker than he could whip out his Ventolin Inhaler and wheeze that he was particularly allergic to Dogs. Mummy and Daddy then spent the next 5 minutes attempting to capture the Hound who was by this time lying on her back and being particularly determined in flashing her bits at the Minister! Not a good start. Just as I was about to quickly develop Catholic Guilt, Charlie advised that as a work place chaplain, he was not affiliated with any particular branch of Christianity and that there was no intrinsic need for us to bat for any particular team, so to speak. Mummy and Daddy were happy at this and breathed a wee sigh of relief... as did Charlie, when the Ventolin kicked in.
Imagine my surprise when I found out that my folks owned a huge pavilion in the middle of a park.
Imagine my surprise when they told me that they didn’t, but instead they had rented it “fea a man fea the Cooncil”.
Much, behind the scenes, activity ensued and the day of the 26th came round a lot sooner than we had all envisaged. Mummy and Daddy had gone on a huge shopping spree and purchased gallons of South African Sparking Wine and the enough Fruitshoots to turn the most laid back little person into a sippy cup wielding psychopath. Daddy had been up for nights making me a pink cake with a pair of wee booties on it. It was OK, but nothing compared to the pair of Pink High Tops which Mummy bought me to wear with my bonny new Frock. Mummy got a new dress for herself and, having read Daddy’s mind, something which she is apparently prone to do, bought him a new suit. You would think that nothing really would go wrong at this stage. Well, you would be wrong!!
With the ceremony planned to kick off at 2.30 pm, Daddy decided to get dressed and load his boy racer car up with his body weight in cake. As he prepared to de-label his lovely new Tesco suit he realised that Mummy had been hiding a dark, dark secret. She was in fact Colour Blind. Clearly, if Daddy had known this previously he would have assumed correctly that Mummy’s outlandish colour coordination and dress sense was due to problematic Cone Cells as opposed to an underlying Mania. In the cold light of day it was clear that the Jacket was black and the trousers charcoal Gray. Clearly Daddy didn’t want to have me blessed and renew his wedding vows wearing a suit which made him resemble a semi stirred Double Macchiato from Starbucks, so after exchanging a few complimentary words with mummy he swiftly leaped into his boy racer car and took off down the road to Tesco. Word has it that Daddy accosted a rather rotund lady in the clothes department and enlisted her assistance to acquire matching jacket and trousers though this may not have gone right the first time, necessitating Daddy to once more return to Tesco, eat humble pie and finally leave with a matching ensemble. The notion of a matching waistcoat proved too much however, and Daddy was subsequently forced to purchase a white shirt having previously hoped that the waistcoat would have effectively covered up the blood stain, caused by some unpleasantness, I would imagine, on the shirt he had originally planned to wear.
Much hyperventilating ensued, but, in the end, we all arrived appropriately dressed to take our place in front of our people to welcome me into the family and to introduce me officially to God. I’m not sure where I stand on the latter, but I guess I am happy that I don’t have to be at the moment and I can let Mummy and Daddy take care of these things until I am bigger.
Mummy and Daddy had invited so many people. Most of them had met me before, but some of them hadn’t so I decided to be extra cute for them all. The ceremony went by in a whirl. Mummy said nice things about Daddy and Daddy said nice things about Mummy and everyone said nice things about me. No one mentioned the suit thankfully. My Godmother’s Lara and Vicky, joined Mummy, Daddy and I at the front and Charlie said some nice words to welcome me. To be honest, I really can’t remember too much. I’m only little. I did get a gazillion presents and eat my body weight in cake. Everywhere I looked there was someone with a camera wanting to take pictures of me. Mummy initially said that all the camera’s reminded her of the makeup aisle in Tesco, but then realised that the main culprit was Daddy’s Italian colleague who was working on the principle that if a camera have a 8 gig SD card you have, by law, to fill it to capacity. He also presented to be of the opinion that it would be unsportsmanlike not to racially stereotype as an Italian Paparazzo!
Well, it’s time for my bed now so I will say good night and hand you over to Daddy for the last few words.
On behalf of YM and I, we would like to thank everyone who has been a part of LP’s life thus far. We are so grateful to have had you all in our lives thus far and hope that you will remain so for years to come. As LP say’s, you are our people. LP has an extraordinary normal life and we never forget how blessed we are to have her in the middle of it.
'Til next time.......