A happy new warthog

The microbe has composed a song. I was introduced to it around 6am the other morning when he climbed into my bed and sang it into my ear. It’s good to share.

Would you like to hear it?  I’ll leave you to guess the tune…

We wish you a merry elephant
We wish you a merry elephant
We wish you a merry elephant
And a happy new warthog

The aardvarks we bring
To the horse and the cow

We wish you a merry elephant
And a happy new warthog

He also made up an animal-themed version of the makaton hand movements. Helena has now learned this song but thinks it would be better if the lyrics were “we wish you a smelly elephant” (I really must try to get it on video at some point).

We’ve had a very good, if slightly exhausting, weekend with them both celebrating Helena’s birthday…

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Yesterday afternoon we took  them into town to see The Snowman on stage…

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…which I think they both enjoyed, albeit for different reasons, neither of which had anything to do with snowmen. Helena’s favourite was the ballerina from the music box and James’s was the amazingly-costumed woodland animals that danced during the flying scenes. He was hugely upset at the end when the animals didn’t come back for the encore. It was no use at all telling him that the people inside the animal suits were currently on stage inside snowman suits, but he got over it in the end.

Afterwards we wandered around the spectacular christmas lights of Covent Garden and saw a truly incredible santa, sleigh and reindeer troupe made out of lego. My rubbish phone pics don’t do it justice.

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We arrived home with a pair of exhausted microbes and put them more or less straight to bed, only to hear their chattering voices going on until 10pm. I presume this was due to the excitement of shunning James’s vacant bed in favour of their inflatable readybeds.

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This morning they bounded out of bed and spent a while playing with tiny Playmobil animals in a snowy scene, then did some painting, covered the floor in lego, ate pancakes and ingested horrible quantities of nutella and other chocolate-related badness.  (If it weren’t for the clementines we’d all have scurvy, the way we’re going.)

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Both children also posted pictorial letters to Father C today.  All very jolly, except Helena’s is bizarre and indecipherable (rainbow car, book, wolf and yellow badger – I am fairly sure she doesn’t really want that last one).

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As for the microbe’s – despite my careful efforts to lead him down the path of things that I happen to know that Father C has in mind, he was at pains to include a naff toy platypus that he saw in WHSmith last weekend. (Yes, he did have help with the pictures).

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All I can say is that Santa’s little helper had a desperate and frazzled look around WHSmith today and has discovered that the platypus is out of stock and nowhere seems to have one online within a gettable timescale. What is an elf supposed to do? Suffice to say mummy has started to lay the groundwork re: Father C not being able to get everything on a child’s list…  (he’s a spoiled little bratling anyway so it will probably do him good.)

Lastly, we took them on a wearisome fools’ errand to Richmond. Trying to get children to choose Christmas presents for others is a one-way road to frustration. (Altruism, thy name is not “child”).

James’s stock answer for any recipient is to pick up the nearest animal-themed item and yell “I think they’d like THIS!”  Helena’s equivalent, even when selecting gifts for a grown man, is to pick up pink sparkly pencils with pom-poms on them, a heart-shaped cake tin or cocktail sticks embellished with fluffy rainbow parrots. Suffice to say I had to stage an intervention.

Right – I am almost done. I shall just leave with a couple of snaps from last week’s nursery play. I also have a video of it that I shall put on Youtube at some point, but I warn you it’s only for the sturdy of eardrum.

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G and I arrived in what we thought was extremely good time but were still too late to get to the front, thanks to the keener-than-thou parent-horde. (Don’t you just hate other parents?)

Bless the microbe. He’d been so excited and was practicing his lines and songs for ages at home, belting them out like little orphan Annie. But the sight of a room full of mums & dads and SLR cameras gave him a bit of stage fright and he went pink and silent for the first few mins. He also had a love/hate relationship with his beard, wanting it on and off at intervals.

He did get some laughs though, courtesy of his banter with Mrs Christmas, and another mum told me that he caused general hilarity in the next day’s performance by stopping halfway through and declaring  “I’m not the real Father Christmas – look” and removing his beard.

Well that’s all I have time for now but – beware – there will be plenty more waffle in the next few days as we’ve got loads more fun and games coming up. (Also I am off work and strangely garrulous).

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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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