Monday 24 February 2014

a fishy story


Hi fwends!!!!

It’s one excited LP here. Daddy is taking a break as he needed to recover after swimming today, but more of that later if there is time…..

Well, I’m now not kicking the backside of being 18 months old, nah, it doesn’t really mean too much to me either really. Well, it wouldn’t have if Mummy and Daddy hadn’t been sent loads of books from wee Alex Salmond telling me what I should be doing for my age and stage. YAWN!!! Ok, so there is nothing like having a wee bit of a benchmark to work around, but to be honest, I am happy just growing up at my own pace in my own time in God's own country.

Anyhoooooo… More of Mr Salmond later, but for now it’s time to talk about my favourite subject… toy’s.

For those who have not been lucky enough to visit The Hood in recent months, you should be aware that I have like a gazillion toys. To be honest, I am soooo lucky that I don’t really know exactly how many toys I have. This may be due to the fact that I am only little and therefore can’t count. Mummy and Daddy also feel that there is a bit of dubiety about my concept of what precisely constitutes a toy. OK, so I have a “Toy bucket” which looks suspiciously like it was purchased in Wickes and then retrofitted with Bob the Builder stickers. Yes, I found this ironic too. My toy bucket is not filled with concrete and off cuts of coving, rather, it is overflowing with Duck related toys’ One La La, several keyboards and a microphone which Daddy uses to do Darth Vader (“LP I am your Father”) and Elvis (“Thank you very much”) impressions. If you step away from the Nirvana of the Toy box there are many, many other toys which I regularly use to climb on furniture, overturn on the Hound or simply chew. Antipodean Aunty (AA) and WSG (wicked Step Granny, who isn’t really wicked at all) has been particularly generous with regard to toys. For weeks after the Storks delivered me to Mummy and Daddy there was a constant stream of Post Office vans queuing up at the door with deliveries of crocodiles, piranha fish and indigenous tribes people……well all the boxes did have Amazon on them……Tee Hee

Anyhoo, back to Mr Salmond. It’s been a fishy kinda week. As I mentioned earlier wee Eck and his pals in the Scottish Government sent me a big pile of books which, I think, Daddy enjoys more than me. It’s odd the folk who are sending me books. I got ton’s from Dolly Parton (really) before the Storks even delivered me to Mummy and Daddy and now I’m getting the first Minister delivering me books via a big blue bus that drew up outside the local parent and toddler Chapter House a week or so ago. I say drew up, to be clear, it was more of a drive by and lobbing of books out of the window. To be honest, I didn’t really see if it was Alex doing the lobbing, might have been though.  The upshot of this is that Mummy and Daddy got a ship load of books, I’m sure mummy said ship…hmmm…, some with Nursery Rhymes, some with songs and some that just inform the olds where I should be developmentally, well,  within a 6 month window anyway. To be honest, Mummy seems to have a wee bit of a relaxed approach to this which I find works best. Daddy seems to have developed a competitive streak, which, he say’s isn’t helped by a colleague returning to work after maternity leave. Apparently her wee boy is now able to throw a miniature or “fun size” Nemo branded Frisbee, say at least 14 and a half words and has sat… I said sat… on a potty, which is more than I have done. Throwing a Frisbee is way off on my “Things to do before I’m Two” list, as I am just getting used to using my opposable thumbs to chuck the hound's drool encrusted ball back. As for words, I can say all that I really need to say for the moment “Mummy, Daddy, Doigy, Ball, Juice, Nana (as in Ban) and Phone” the extent of my vocabulary has served me well for the past week or so and Daddy read in a book that I understand 10 times the number of words I say and that I learn a new word once I have heard it over 500 times. To be honest, I wish the olds didn’t know this. They have entered into a really boring competition in an attempt to manipulate my vocabulary to their own ends. It gets a wee bit boring when Mummy keeps on saying to me “Daddy’s a bum” and, equally Daddy should realise that I’m not going to say “Mummy Farted”. As for a potty, well, I have to thank Daddy for explaining what one of those is. Daddy was perhaps not the best person to do so as he explained that I really didn’t have the plumbing to be standing up to pee, which, to be honest, I tend to do in the bath. This conversation was interspersed with awkward silences and we both agreed to leave such conversations to Mummy in the future.

I’ve digressed again. I seem to remember that I was talking about all the toy’s I have, well my absolute favourite is a wee Little Mermaid cassette thingie that plays “Under the Sea” sadly I took this statement a little too literally, but more of this later. The cassette thingie was somewhat of a family heirloom, having been given to Daddy a decade ago by a colleague who knew about, but never judged his “fondness” for Ariel.  Clearly, it’s not much of an heirloom although Daddy is never slow to remind us all that he came to the “Toon” with 2 bread baskets of belongings, so I guess we make heirlooms, like we make memories when we can. The cassette thingie sat on Daddy’s desk at work until the good people of the Cooncil enacted a clean desk policy which meant that Cassette thingie, Darth Vader helmet, barking doggie and miniature Henry Hoover all ended up getting shoved in a drawer never to see the light of day again until they were periodically rediscovered over the years as Daddy looked for mint’s and/or Nicotine Replacement Therapy.  I really took to this wee cassette thingie after Mummy used it by way of distraction when I was having a wee psycho meltdown. I carried my miniature ghetto blaster about with me all the time infuriating Daddy as I kept on pushing the button, thus returning the song back to the start when Daddy was in full voice. I even carried it with me to the bathroom and, mindful that my favourite toy had a picture of a mermaid on the front, decided to see if it would swim. Alas, it did not. Sadly the phrase “Darling it’s better down where it’s wetter” did not ring true and my favourite wee toy met a watery grave.
So now you are (probable) asking yourselves what’s the connection to Alex Salmond……. Salmon…. tee Hee.
LatersJ
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As you know I am now  

 

Friday 7 February 2014

A Duck's Tale


 
Gentle Reader, Sooooooo…….. Where are we this week?  Fresh from the excitement at the start of the year we find ourselves in February and STILL waiting to make Snow Angels with LP and to pick crusty “yellow snow” from in between the Hounds tootsies. All very exciting, I’m sure you will agree. One thing is for sure, if I was just to wait for the big things to happen then life would be a little tedious. It’s the wee things which make all our LP’s unique, so todays’s Blog is going to simply be about them.

As you know I’ve mentioned loads about bath time. It’s that quality time when I get to scrape Bolognese Sauce from our daughters face,  become adept at timing the removal of  a nappy precisely so LP doesn’t code brown on the floor (having given up on bathroom rugs) and sing to my heart's content knowing that it’s between me, LP……and the baby monitor.  
You would imagine that neither LP or I would be able to derive any more excitement from bath time. Indeed, I have often thought I had heard Scotty from Star Trek proclaim “But Captain she canna take it. She’s gonna explode if she has any more fun”. Gentle Reader, wait for it… wait for it…LP has now learned to stand up in the bath!!!!!!
OK, so you're not over excited by this? Allow me to paint you a picture, an oily painting,  if you will. LP’s bath times have, if I am totally honest, been missing something. Bubbles!  LP’s had a wee bit of dry skin and, as a precautionary measure, she was prescribed many lotions and potions  by her Quack (so called because LP likes Duck’s and is not too sure of Doctor’s yet). Half a cap full of said lotions/ potion made LP as slippery as a bar of soap in a prison shower… if you will excuse the analogy,  and therefore impossible grasp or indeed to wash as said lotion appeared to build up an impervious membrane which prevented the thorough removal of tomato sauce or carrot based foodstuffs from her skin. Shame really. This orange glow, which illuminated her little face gave her a look of criminal genius akin to The Joker. This was very apt as, since the day LP was delivered by the Stork, she has been brought up in the knowledge that I’m Batman.

Anyhoo, our now once  slippery offspring is no longer, um, slippery as, due to the wonders of nature appears to have grown out of flaky stage all by herself and perhaps with a little assistance of the lotions and potions. This now means that LP is no longer trapped in the bath, totally dependent on her Daddy (or YM at weekends, holiday’s and Bar Mitzva’s and in times of my near terminal episodes of sinusitis preventing me from attending to my duties) to scoop her up and wrap her in a fluffy towel to the local manta of “ehm gonna wrap you up like eh Sasaj roll”. LP now asserts her independence by standing up in the bath as soon as she gets bored with playing with her seven Rubber Ducks and Daddy’s renditions of Itsy Bitsy Spider and Wee Willie Winkie (who’s internal clock seems to readily change between 6 and 7 pm of an evening).  Truth be told, our newly vertical bath time LP poses a few more problems than she does solutions at the moment.
Number One being that I can actually see her peeing in the bath water rather than just assuming she does do this anyway and declines to tell me.

Number Two…. No! Let's move on quickly from Number Two’s, save to say that they are more concerning than the aforementioned Number One’s. 

Number Three: Normally I have the height advantage over LP. Hopefully this will continue on for the next 20 years or at least until I succumb to Oestioperosis. It  has to be said that, as far as height goes, baths are a great leveller.  Hunkered down on the floor bathing LP once meant that we were at the same height and therefore, both armed with water pistols we found our relationship devoid of any power imbalance. Sadly LP’s decision to stand has meant that she easily towers over her Daddy  and takes every opportunity to soak me.
This became abundantly clear during hair washing time. Yes, Yes LP does have her hair washed. Faithful Readers will be aware that I have, on occasion, all be it semi unintentionally,  ingested baby shampoo, this is a thing of the past and I have learned my lesson. As LP is now totally declining to be fed, even if I do make the sound of an airplane stalling midair during a WW1 Dogfight in an attempt to get yogurt into her, she continuously gets the majority of her tea entwined in her golden locks. It would clearly not be financially prudent, or medically  prudent for that matter for me to continue to drink baby shampoo when LP’s follicles could utilise it far more appropriate. With some inevitability and with a glint in LP’s eye, at the moment when  I am about to rinse the shampoo off of my daughters golden tresses she will take a step forward and direct the water out of the bath and over me. Much to the delight of LP and to my soggy distress.


Anyways… time to move on to the tale of the second duck. LP loves ducks. She has many ducks. We have a duck print shower curtain, bowl’s, cute ducks on clothing and a duck pushy thing which plays the same tune over and over and over and over again until I want to come downstairs in the middle of the night and attack it with a hatchet, chopping it into little tiny shards of yellow plastic until it stops….please make it stop….please. Oh, did I tell you YM, LP and I have a few ducks. This in itself is odd as certain members of our family have a poor history with ducks. Many moon’s ago, before LP was a twinkle in the Storks eye, YM and I would while away the days taking the Hound for long walks in the country whilst our wee puppy would run about as if YM had slipped Amphetamine into her Pedigree Chum doggie food. On one of these occasions, as YM and I strolled in the Spring sunshine, the Hound thought it would be a sufficiently good idea to check out the duck pond. As many of you will be aware, the Hound’s obedience training did not go well. Suffice to say that the only rosette she ever won was for having the wagliest tail at puppy training class. It was the kind of award that gets handed out  the “special” puppies in an attempt to make them feel included. YM and I were so proud of that Rosette, in fact I believe YM cried with pride when it was awarded.  Sadly the unpleasantness that ensued traumatised two young children, left a father having to gently explain the “circle of life” with some emphasis on the fact that there is no such thing as immortality, oh and a dead duck. The latter becoming very much apparent to the adults and children who watched in horror as a male Mallard Duck sunk quickly and without trace having been broadsided by our over exuberant Hound.

Anyhoo…. Gentle Reader, I am sure I can hear you say Get to the@&%$£&%$ (you counted them trying to spell the expletive didn’t you?) point. OK, the point is that LP, YM and I have developed a new game. Having undertaken a wee bit of research into such things, I discovered that a child increases their vocabulary by hearing words said repetitively. The literature states that “repetitive” is defined as over 500 times. Sooooo, realising that I couldn’t ask LP to go get me a “No” or a “code brown” or indeed a “God No!!! Don’t chew that cable, you’ll blow us all up”. I settled for “LP can you please fetch me a Duck?”. Never before have I been so enthralled by our wee girl and the speed at which she is developing. As soon as I asked LP for a duck she stopped what she was doing (having a mini meltdown) and set about looking for a duck. At the time I was really quite unsure of this as she randomly ran about the living room and then lay on the carpet and stuck an arm underneath the settee to retrieve her first duck. She grasped the wee duck in a wee hand and then went over to her toy box. A few seconds later and she had added another duck to her collection. LP then waddled over to me, with outreached arms and a huge smile on her face and presented me with both duck’s. I was, and continue to be totally impressed by this. I guess I should at this point apologise to my work colleagues who must have been totally skunnered (fed up) with hearing me prattle on about LP’s duck related shenanigans. I do have to thank one of my colleagues who suggested that I should in future years say to LP “Bring me my tea please” as I have more chance of that happening that YM doing so
(Sorry YM :-))))