For months now the microbe has been telling an anecdote about how he was walking down the road one day and a lady threw a bucket of wee over him from an upstairs window.
You may well boggle.
What he is actually remembering is a little doll’s house tableau from the Museum of Water and Steam, depicting plumbing through the ages. I’m not sure how his mind has transferred this cartoon scene into a real world anecdote that happened to him down our road but it does make me wonder what else he might be telling the ladies at nursery…
Speaking of which, he is back at last after a week of chicken pox-induced solitude in which he became increasingly lonely and dissatisfied with adult company. I don’t think he suffered too badly with the pox, overall. He was spotty but didn’t seem inclined to scratch. Mainly he just developed a penchant for falling asleep face-first in his dinner.
I’m glad the Pox is out of the way in advance of his birthday. Children’s parties are enough of a faff without having to worry about that. People in magazines always seem to cite party bags as the nightmare factor of kids parties but, frankly, those are a breeze. 5 mins with Uncle Amazon and you’re sorted for enough plastic tat to fill a 50p shop. For a party novice like me, it’s all the other stuff that has turned into a melting pot of anxieties…
- What if the room that I blindly booked to withstand a horde of sticky little grublings turns out to be unsuitable on the day?
- What if nobody turns up?
- How on earth do I decorate a room in which blu-tac, sticky tape and all related substances have been banned?
- Can I get away without buying helium?
- Will an iPhone and a tiny portable speaker suffice for music?
- Did I pay the entertainer?
- When am I going to blow up 50 balloons?
- What am I going to feed them all… and their parents? (If anyone says “nut-free” I might stick a cake up their rear end).
I mean, obviously, there are more serious problems in the world than these but I shall nevertheless be glad when it’s over and we can run away to the zoo and let the animals entertain us.
In sporting news, the Microbe was given a little football the other week by our friend Charles and was excited enough to beg to be taken to the park with Daddy to play with it.
Ha ha ha…
Oh poor Microbe. With genes like these, what chance do you have? My favourite part was G’s anecdote of watching the football go sailing past James as he stood waving a flower in the air and shouting “Daddy, I found a daisy!”
A few days later the three of us attempted an impromptu game of piggy in the middle – thus providing Twickenham with the most sportingly inept sight ever to be witnessed within its boundaries. Two adults barely able to throw in a straight line, let alone catch… surrounding our tiny little chip off the block, waving his arms aimlessly in the middle, as far from the ball as humanly possible at all times. (It probably didn’t help that the ‘ball’ in question was a furry snake tied in a knot.)
Continuing on a theme of well-intentioned ennui, the microbe spent two evenings last week running rings around the world’s least assertive babysitter, in the form of ‘Uncle Andrew’. Any toddler worth his salt can spot a chink in the armour and, from what I could glean via Andrew’s despair-ridden Facebook updates, their evenings at home went like a bit like this:
Andrew: “Do be sure to let me know if you get tired, James”
James: [laughs maniacally and points at the world’s biggest pile of jigsaws]
Andrew: “Are you feeling ready for bed yet?”
James: “No!!” [Retrieves more games + Mr Men box set from bedroom]
Andrew: “Isn’t it dark outside? That means it’s NIGHT TIME when boys go to bed”
James: “Lets do the counting game again!“
Andrew: “AREN’T YOU TIRED YET?” [pours more wine]
James: “No! Look! Crocodile jigsaw!“
James: [collapses face down on sofa in sleep coma]
Andrew: “Oh thank you, god” [weeps into wine]
Poor old Andrew. James even did a special evening poo for him. (But he shall be repaid in seafood and booze).
Well there are tons of other things I could ramble about … not least some wittering about our new mini-allotment, but I shall save it for another post. For now I just want to add a memento from our lovely weekend in York, visiting Grandpa Bob and Jackie, along with my sis. The journey up was horrible but being there was fab. I forgot my camera so here are some slightly rubbish phone pics…