I love Richard Hammond. ChaosMan knows this and forgives me for it. Although I am not allowed anywhere near the set of Top Gear, which is probably for the best and would probably contravene the conditions of the restraining order. The boys have also somehow gathered that I love Richard Hammond. I have no idea how.
One day, after I'd finished swooning and clutching my heart at the little cutey on TV, after I'd gathered myself together and wiped the drool from my chin, BigMad asked me whether I loved his Dad or Richard Hammond more. I reassured him that his Dad firmly held the number one spot. He continued "So the two people you love best in the world, apart from your family, are Dad and Richard Hammond?" I replied no, and could I have three people to love best? The penny dropped quickly. "So the people you love the best are my Dad, me and my brother?" I said yes of course I did.
"So you love us more than you love Richard Hammond!!!" He asked wide eyed
"Absolutely"
His face was an absolute picture of pleased incredulity. He must think I'm obsessed or something.
Tuesday, 12 May 2009
Bad Handwriting
We encourage the children to read, write, draw, make up poems, think about the world, and use their imaginations. Sometimes this backfires on us. I'd recently taught the boys how to write their names in Russian, making them think about language, and how some were very different from English. SM particularly enjoyed this and made me write out lots of words for him.
A few weeks later I was writing a shopping list to give to ChaosMan, with SM sat on my knee. He peered closely at the paper looking very puzzled and asked me "Are you writing in Russian?"
No. I wasn't.
A few weeks later I was writing a shopping list to give to ChaosMan, with SM sat on my knee. He peered closely at the paper looking very puzzled and asked me "Are you writing in Russian?"
No. I wasn't.
Boys Versus Girls 3
On a trip away recently I was called away from sunbathing and playing backgammon with BM (somewhat mercifully as he is mercenary) to answer a vital call of nature. It's an unfortunate fact that caravans amplify natures' calls and I heard SM giggle, then shout to his dad, "DAAAD! Did you know that ladies have big HOLES in their winkies and when they wee it goes WOOOOOSHHHH everywhere?" His dad spluttered and started giggling uncontrollably as SM demonstrated the wooshing with enthusiastic arm motions.
It's ever so hard to concentrate on nature calling when you are laughing.
It's ever so hard to concentrate on nature calling when you are laughing.
Thursday, 16 April 2009
Drawing on your stepchildren is fun.
The night before we went camping Chaos-man crept into the boys' room and carefully, amid fits of shaking silent laughter, me standing in the doorway, fists shoved into my mouth, drew large curly mustaches and goatee beards on each of his children with my eyeliner.
In the morning Bigmad woke up first, and appeared in our doorway sleepy and stretching, mustache still proudly sitting above his top lip. Keeping straight faces and trying not to meet each others eyes, we answered his questions about camping and our trip away. SmallMad woke up soon after and came bounding into our bedroom, stopping short when he saw his brother. "YOU'VE GOT A MUSTACHE!" he cried, pointing at his brother, who looked at him incredulously in return. "WHAT? SO HAVE YOU!" They both scrambled for the mirror and examined their faces with horror as we cracked up with helpless laughter.
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAD! YOU DRAWED ON US!". They were even more horrified when they found out it was girls make-up we used, and they've been plotting revenge ever since. I've told them we sleep with our eyes open, but I'm half-expecting a counterattack and have hidden all the permanent markers and highlighter pens just in case.
In the morning Bigmad woke up first, and appeared in our doorway sleepy and stretching, mustache still proudly sitting above his top lip. Keeping straight faces and trying not to meet each others eyes, we answered his questions about camping and our trip away. SmallMad woke up soon after and came bounding into our bedroom, stopping short when he saw his brother. "YOU'VE GOT A MUSTACHE!" he cried, pointing at his brother, who looked at him incredulously in return. "WHAT? SO HAVE YOU!" They both scrambled for the mirror and examined their faces with horror as we cracked up with helpless laughter.
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAD! YOU DRAWED ON US!". They were even more horrified when they found out it was girls make-up we used, and they've been plotting revenge ever since. I've told them we sleep with our eyes open, but I'm half-expecting a counterattack and have hidden all the permanent markers and highlighter pens just in case.
Easter in the sun.
The boys were a little worried that the Easter bunny wouldn't be able to find us at the campsite. They explained that he "flies through the air with his ears, carrying Easter eggs for all children." laughing we reassured them that their helicopter-eared bunny loves camping and would find them just fine.
On the Saturday night we had to ban any mention of the E-word due to Easter-egg mention overkill. When we tucked them up that night I told them to go to sleep quickly as the next day would come quicker.
"Yes and it'll be Easter and we'll have our Easter eggs" said SmallMad, correcting himself hastily "though we don't talk about it".
Easter day dawned and a quick scan of the tent by two sleepy boys revealed no Easter eggs. Puzzled, the children allowed themselves to be herded into the car to help their dad get some milk. When they were gone, the pajama-clad Easter bunny balanced 5 chocolate eggs in a small tree next to the tent, and sat back down to enjoy hercoffee in the morning sun. Not a chance. Wildlife likes Easter too and the lads in the tent next to us were treated to the sight of me dancing around in my night attire, throwing empty beer cans at over-interested crows and gulls.
Needless to say the returning children were overjoyed when I pointed out that the silly bunny had obviously aimed a little wide. Ignoring our warning not to get too used to chocolate for breakfast (after the great and terrible chocolate spread tantrums, we've not allowed the stuff across the doorstep when the boys are with us) and happily stuffing themselves brimful "right down into my legs", they commented that they loved holidays like this "like Christmas and birthdays where you get stuff". Mercenary, but honest!
On the Saturday night we had to ban any mention of the E-word due to Easter-egg mention overkill. When we tucked them up that night I told them to go to sleep quickly as the next day would come quicker.
"Yes and it'll be Easter and we'll have our Easter eggs" said SmallMad, correcting himself hastily "though we don't talk about it".
Easter day dawned and a quick scan of the tent by two sleepy boys revealed no Easter eggs. Puzzled, the children allowed themselves to be herded into the car to help their dad get some milk. When they were gone, the pajama-clad Easter bunny balanced 5 chocolate eggs in a small tree next to the tent, and sat back down to enjoy hercoffee in the morning sun. Not a chance. Wildlife likes Easter too and the lads in the tent next to us were treated to the sight of me dancing around in my night attire, throwing empty beer cans at over-interested crows and gulls.
Needless to say the returning children were overjoyed when I pointed out that the silly bunny had obviously aimed a little wide. Ignoring our warning not to get too used to chocolate for breakfast (after the great and terrible chocolate spread tantrums, we've not allowed the stuff across the doorstep when the boys are with us) and happily stuffing themselves brimful "right down into my legs", they commented that they loved holidays like this "like Christmas and birthdays where you get stuff". Mercenary, but honest!
Thursday, 9 April 2009
Trepidation and tides.
This weekend I am going camping for the first time with the Mads. I am a little nervous as we've not as yet all gone away together, let alone all slept in the one small tent.
We've just put two overexcited little boys to bed with promises of sausage sandwiches, meeting some crabs, playing in the sea and sleeping in a tent. This weekend promises to be one of the wettest, most inclement weekends in a while and we've packed a lot of towels, a lot of savlon, and a little wine.
Wish us luck, and I'll update this on my return.
We've just put two overexcited little boys to bed with promises of sausage sandwiches, meeting some crabs, playing in the sea and sleeping in a tent. This weekend promises to be one of the wettest, most inclement weekends in a while and we've packed a lot of towels, a lot of savlon, and a little wine.
Wish us luck, and I'll update this on my return.
Monday, 6 April 2009
The Boys on Water.
Chaos man is sometimes compelled to make impulsive purchases. His latest, fully endorsed by me, is a canoe. At first I was a little nervous about getting in it, especially because our nearest water-body is the Birmingham-Worcester canal. I informed him that I thought canals were full of scum and dead dogs but he reassured me that canals were now nice and clean, and devoid of ex-canines.
After kitting out the boys in little life-jackets, complete with whistles which were fully and enthusiastically being tested until I pointed out they didn't yet need rescuing, we headed down to the canal.
Before we left I mentioned grumpily that the canal would probably be full of scum and dead dogs so they needed to be careful in the boat in case they fell in. SmallMad was very excited and wanted to take his water pistol to "SHOOT THE DEAD DOGS!"
We inflated our craft, and launched it into the surprisingly pleasant-looking canal. Chaos man had a little go, then we plonked BigMad in the front with him. Father and son, with synchronized paddling and much cheering from us watchers on the bank, headed upstream through glorious countryside, past floating branches, a football, and past a dead duck.
On second glance it was realised the dead duck had a tail.
"DEAD DOG!!!!" screamed SmallMad in glee as I looked pointedly at ChaosMan, but he was too busy trying to steer the boat past the corpse to notice. The Jack Russell floated soggily and dead-ly on.
We swapped seats and I took BigMad out for another go. Whilst we were busy trying not to hit the bank, an elderly couple with their small dog had come down to the opposite bank, perhaps to enjoy the view, perhaps to watch this scene of familial joy. Whichever, SmallMad saw the dog and pointed at it, screaming "Dog! It's going to be DEAD!"
I think he may have been taken out of context slightly as the couple rapidly left.
Buy a canoe. It's fun for all the family. Except the dog.
After kitting out the boys in little life-jackets, complete with whistles which were fully and enthusiastically being tested until I pointed out they didn't yet need rescuing, we headed down to the canal.
Before we left I mentioned grumpily that the canal would probably be full of scum and dead dogs so they needed to be careful in the boat in case they fell in. SmallMad was very excited and wanted to take his water pistol to "SHOOT THE DEAD DOGS!"
We inflated our craft, and launched it into the surprisingly pleasant-looking canal. Chaos man had a little go, then we plonked BigMad in the front with him. Father and son, with synchronized paddling and much cheering from us watchers on the bank, headed upstream through glorious countryside, past floating branches, a football, and past a dead duck.
On second glance it was realised the dead duck had a tail.
"DEAD DOG!!!!" screamed SmallMad in glee as I looked pointedly at ChaosMan, but he was too busy trying to steer the boat past the corpse to notice. The Jack Russell floated soggily and dead-ly on.
We swapped seats and I took BigMad out for another go. Whilst we were busy trying not to hit the bank, an elderly couple with their small dog had come down to the opposite bank, perhaps to enjoy the view, perhaps to watch this scene of familial joy. Whichever, SmallMad saw the dog and pointed at it, screaming "Dog! It's going to be DEAD!"
I think he may have been taken out of context slightly as the couple rapidly left.
Buy a canoe. It's fun for all the family. Except the dog.
Sunday, 22 March 2009
Brothers at arms.
"DAAAAAD!!!!! HE'S KICKING MEEEEE!!!"
"ARRRGHHHHH! HE'S TRYING TO GET MY FAAACE"
"NOOOOO! IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!"
The boys sometimes enjoy trying to kill each other, in often violent and inventive ways. Some days it's been a full-time occupation trying to prevent Armageddon. Although we've issued a non-violence policy, punishable by raised dad-voice and the devastating loss of favored toys, they still occasionally end up damaging each other, mostly by "accident" when they are "playing".
I sometimes suspect them of whispering mafia-style death threats to each other when we're not in earshot. "Youse gonna wear concrete shoes brother" speaking sideways out of his mouth, "Meet me at the deserted warehouse on the misty docks at midnight, and you'd better come alone".
I also suspect that even when we think the fight is over and dealt with, the grudge is still being harbored. This was validated by overhearing SM muttering sadistically to himself... "mumble, mumble, my brother needs a handbag...". A vicious threat indeed.
Bigmad is getting wise in his old age and starting to become more self-aware. After getting irritated at his brother - as were we too, he was being a pain - rather than swinging a punch at him, told me with a very grown up shrug of his shoulders and a resigned voice "Well, I suppose when my brother was born, at least I got some free lego".
"ARRRGHHHHH! HE'S TRYING TO GET MY FAAACE"
"NOOOOO! IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!"
The boys sometimes enjoy trying to kill each other, in often violent and inventive ways. Some days it's been a full-time occupation trying to prevent Armageddon. Although we've issued a non-violence policy, punishable by raised dad-voice and the devastating loss of favored toys, they still occasionally end up damaging each other, mostly by "accident" when they are "playing".
I sometimes suspect them of whispering mafia-style death threats to each other when we're not in earshot. "Youse gonna wear concrete shoes brother" speaking sideways out of his mouth, "Meet me at the deserted warehouse on the misty docks at midnight, and you'd better come alone".
I also suspect that even when we think the fight is over and dealt with, the grudge is still being harbored. This was validated by overhearing SM muttering sadistically to himself... "mumble, mumble, my brother needs a handbag...". A vicious threat indeed.
Bigmad is getting wise in his old age and starting to become more self-aware. After getting irritated at his brother - as were we too, he was being a pain - rather than swinging a punch at him, told me with a very grown up shrug of his shoulders and a resigned voice "Well, I suppose when my brother was born, at least I got some free lego".
Growing up,
I'm sure there are moments in the life of any parent or guardian when they'd love to tape-record the things their children say, and play it back to them when they are older.
BigMad was happily walking between me and his dad today chattering about everything, when he said "I hope I don't become hypnotized by those chavvy teenagers and become one when I'm older". We expressed our agreement with his statement but told him that when you become a teenager sometimes you might become a pain in the backside for a couple of years whilst you deal with getting older, and that this was fairly standard. We said if he did this we'd still love him, and would wait for him to become his normal self in a few years.
He replied, full of concern, "I hope I don't do that. I hope I'm a nice teenager and don't smoke or throw things."
When he turns 13 please direct BM to this post.
BigMad was happily walking between me and his dad today chattering about everything, when he said "I hope I don't become hypnotized by those chavvy teenagers and become one when I'm older". We expressed our agreement with his statement but told him that when you become a teenager sometimes you might become a pain in the backside for a couple of years whilst you deal with getting older, and that this was fairly standard. We said if he did this we'd still love him, and would wait for him to become his normal self in a few years.
He replied, full of concern, "I hope I don't do that. I hope I'm a nice teenager and don't smoke or throw things."
When he turns 13 please direct BM to this post.
SharkBait
At tea-time, after a visit to an Aquarium, SmallMad asked me hopefully whether he might one day be eaten by a shark. I explained that Sharks don't generally eat people and if they do, it's because that person was in the wrong place, or was mistaken for a seal. I told him that humans were too bony for Sharkfood, and that they liked fatty animals like seals.
"But what if you were really fat?" He asked. "You'd have to be quite fat for a shark to enjoy munching you!" With a cheeky glint in his eye he asked "How fat... as fat as...... you?"
Slightly piqued, not so much by his comment, but by the muffled sniggers I could hear from the kitchen, I replied "Nope! Fatter than me! Sharks like REALLY FAT things"
He poked me critically in the stomach and instructed me to "EAT MORE! EAT ALL THIS", piling leftover food onto my plate. "this is your FEAST, then we can feed you to the SHARKS!"
The diet starts tomorrow.
"But what if you were really fat?" He asked. "You'd have to be quite fat for a shark to enjoy munching you!" With a cheeky glint in his eye he asked "How fat... as fat as...... you?"
Slightly piqued, not so much by his comment, but by the muffled sniggers I could hear from the kitchen, I replied "Nope! Fatter than me! Sharks like REALLY FAT things"
He poked me critically in the stomach and instructed me to "EAT MORE! EAT ALL THIS", piling leftover food onto my plate. "this is your FEAST, then we can feed you to the SHARKS!"
The diet starts tomorrow.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
Posts
