In the land of grot, the one one-eyed pig is king

Dear internet, I’m going to need to hire a PA in order to get through October’s insane nursery schedule. Any takers?

Here’s what you’ll be in charge of:

  • Tue 7th: Photographer day*. Bring a special outfit for them to wear.
  • Wed 8th: Pottery day. Pay £35 and paint a platter. (£35!!!)
  • Tue 14th: Crazy hair day.  (Suggestions on a postcard please)
  • Wed 15th: Sporty day. Dress in sportswear for races in the garden. (Does the microbe look like someone who owns sportswear?)
  • Fri 17th: Dress-up day.  Come dressed up as a favourite character from a book or film. (Might have to recycle Fox in Socks for this one)
  • Thur 23rd: Diwali celebration + parents evening  (What – no outfit?)
  • Fri 24th: Welsh day. Come dressed as a dragon or in the colours of the Welsh flag.
  • Fri 31st:  Confusion Day.  This appears to be both Green Day (“come dressed in green”) and Halloween (“come dressed in a halloween costume for a special tea party”).  I have no idea whether these are meant to be one and the same outfit.

*Photographer Day is when they get a professional photographer in to do studio-style shots of all the kids. (Alas the resulting pics always make him look like someone else’s child, so I never buy any of them.)

On a different topic, I’ve started dithering over what sort of winter coat to buy for the microbe. I’ve even made a Pinterest Board. (I know…. if I weren’t me I would totally be pointing and laughing at me). You wouldn’t believe how many dreary Liam Gallgher-ish parkas and bright orange Tellytubby coats I’ve had to wade though in order to locate these thin pickings.

Yesterday I was leaning towards the Debenhams red puffa jacket. But today I’m preferring the grey duffle from Vertbaudet (or maybe the same one in Don’t Look Now red). Opinions welcome…

Moving on, it has become apparent that the microbe, and all of his nursery pals, are suddenly obsessed with superheroes. If the Jimbot had his way he’d go to nursery every day wearing a superman t-shirt, spiderman underpants and batman socks. (I blame the dads because, as far as I can tell, none of these kids have ever actually seen or read anything starring Superman or Batman or Spiderman).


In honour of the newfound obsession I have procured some iron-on superhero patches and am planning to turn a pair of ruined jeans into BEST JEANS EVER this weekend by patching up a knee-hole with Batman.

Later this month Jimmy will be starting a Saturday morning drama club at the local Gymboree, leading to a Lion King inspired performance in December. (As you may deduce, I’ve decided to give rugby child abuse a miss).  The grand plan is that G and I will drop him off each week and go for a glorious fry-up or eggs royale at one of the local cafes while the boybot prances around being Pumbaa. (I wonder how quickly we’ll resort to prodding one another out of bed to lug him to drama so that the other one can roll over and go back to sleep?)

In prep for drama lessons, G and I continue to feed him lines at every opportunity and send him off to repeat them to the other.

Go and help daddy in the kitchen and say “I’m your little hinderer”
Go and tell mummy “I can’t find my shoes because I did a man-look”

In cheery news,  someone has been feeding angel pills to the Microbe. He’s been an insanely good boy over the last few weeks. He’s eating whatever we give him, going to bed early and generally giving us no trouble or tantrums.

I swear it’s all down to lack of treats. Last weekend he played happily all by himself while G and I got on with a big clear out. I think he rather enjoyed dividing his time between being Mister Maker (he now has a ‘craft drawer’) and rummaging through my giveaway bags reclaiming all of the forgotten toys and books that I was quietly stealthing into them. *doh!*

Lesson in life: never try to get rid of toys or books while the microbe is awake. It is a task of Sisyphus, like trying to tidy up while he walks behind me getting everything back out again.

On a similar note, never let a 3 year old do their own shopping. The disparity between what a parent would choose and what the child actually wants is hilarious. Hand-painted wooden toys, anyone? Educational construction kits? Forget it! Given freedom to spend money from his piggy bank, the Microbe’s recent toyshop purchases include:

This truly vile plastic cow whose eyes bulge when you squeeze it…


This similarly horrible one-eyed plastic pig that develops obscene bulgy growths when squeezed.


Admittedly I don’t think my own taste was any better at his age. (I have a distinct memory of my mother using the blanket term “grot” to refer to anything purchased by me.)



About Susan Flockhart

Bonsai lady-geek and blogger. I can hardly recall what I used to blog about pre-microbes, but these days I generally ramble about motherhood, nonsense and whatever's going on the world of tiny people
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