In their own words #6 . . . .

 

Their linguistic skills and conversational confidence developing at a rapid rate, The B&G have become fascinating to listen to. That in mind, I've decided to hand over the blog to them for the remainder of this week. 

This is The B&G Raw, the uncut version.

This is I.T.O.W.W.

This is In Their Own Words Week.

THE G (as though imparting some great wisdom): "Everyone likes chocolate."

Short pause.
THE G (more in hope than expectation): "Can I have some chocolate please?"

Brief sortie into shop.
THE G (delighted/surprised/grateful): "You're my best friend . . . ."

In their own words #5 . . . .

Their linguistic skills and conversational confidence developing at a rapid rate, The B&G have become fascinating to listen to. That in mind, I've decided to hand over the blog to them for the remainder of this week. 

This is The B&G Raw, the uncut version.

This is I.T.O.W.W.

This is In Their Own Words Week.

THE G (looking at a cat sniffing around in the garden): "Look, look, there's a cat."
THE B (more excited about this than might be expected): "Oh yes!"
THE G (as the cat starts to head towards the fence): "The cat's going."
THE B (as the cat disappears from sight): "Oh! Where do you think he has gone?"
Short pause for thought.
THE G (quizzical): "To work . . . . ?"

In their own words #4 . . . .

Their linguistic skills and conversational confidence developing at a rapid rate, The B&G have become fascinating to listen to. That in mind, I've decided to hand over the blog to them for the remainder of this week. 

This is The B&G Raw, the uncut version.

This is I.T.O.W.W.

This is In Their Own Words Week.

THE B (at the breakfast table): "Daddy, what's gravity?"
THE B (getting dressed): "Daddy, what's the biggest number in the world?"
THE B (in the car): "Daddy, why do some men have long hair?"
THE B (at the shops): "Daddy, why is that man wearing a pink tee-shirt?"
THE B (over dinner): "Daddy, do frozen peas ever get hungry?"
THE B (at bedtime): "Daddy, can people who write Japanese build boats?"

In their own words #3 . . . .

Their linguistic skills and conversational confidence developing at a rapid rate, The B&G have become fascinating to listen to. That in mind, I've decided to hand over the blog to them for the remainder of this week. 

This is The B&G Raw, the uncut version.

This is I.T.O.W.W.

This is In Their Own Words Week.

THE B (earlier this afternoon): "Look, look, there's the moon!"

THE G (frantically scanning the skies): "Where? Where?"

THE B (pointing): "There!"

THE G (continuing to look, to no avail): "I can't see it."

Short pause for reflection.

THE B (puzzled face): "But what's the the moon doing up at this time? It's still the afternoon."

THE G: "I don't know."

Short pause for further thought.

THE G (confused): "I can't see the moon."

THE B (no longer listening to The G): "Perhaps it has just come out to say hello to us."

Several seconds pass.

THE G (at last): "There it is! I can see the moon!"

Short pause.

THE G (concerned expression): "But it hasn't got a face . . . ."

In their own words #2 . . . .

Their linguistic skills and conversational confidence developing at a rapid rate, The B&G have become fascinating to listen to. That in mind, I've decided to hand over the blog to them for the remainder of this week. 

This is The B&G Raw, the uncut version. 

This is I.T.O.W.W. 

This is In Their Own Words Week. 

THE G (examining our newly-installed family-friendly loo seat): "It's got two seats, Daddy, look. It's got a little seat for little bottoms and it's got a big seat for big bottoms."

Short pause for thought.

THE G (chuckling): "Like yours. You've got a big bottom, Daddy."

In their own words #1 . . . .

Their linguistic skills and conversational confidence developing at a rapid rate, The B&G have become fascinating to listen to. That in mind, I've decided to hand over the blog to them for the remainder of this week. 

This is The B&G Raw, the uncut version. 

This is I.T.O.W.W. 

This is In Their Own Words Week.

THE B: "I thought that it might be nice to go out for lunch today."

ME: "But I've just made sandwiches."

THE B: "I think I'd like to go to TGI Fridays."

ME: "I'd like us to have lunch here."

THE B: "I think I might have Dirt and Worm Pie."

ME: "It's going to be sandwiches. I've just made them and I can't afford for us to go to TGI Fridays this week, I'm afraid."
There followed a short pause.

THE G: "I've got money......"

Reading (and writing) the Mr Men . . . .

The B lists his favourite books...........

Book-mad here at the minute.
Recent additions include Clara Vulliamy's marvellous Muffin and, thanks to our friends at HarperCollins, Paddington goes for gold and Emma Chichester Clark's Lulu and the best cake ever.
These are certain to feature in greater detail at a later date.
For now, though, it's all about the Mr Men series.
They're proving most popular, these.
In the main, they're The B's preferred reads, although The G has grown rather partial to them in recent times too.
The other morning, for instance, supermarket-bound, she insisted on bringing a sizeable stack along for the ride.
Mid-shop - somewhere near the biscuit aisle, I believe - The B stopped the trolley, something on his mind.
"Daddy?" he said, as The G, her books forgotten for a moment, eyed the Chocolate Digestives. "What's the man called who made the Mr Men?"
"Roger Hargreaves," I replied.
The B thought this over for a moment.
"Does he live over the sea?" he asked, this B-speak for abroad.
"I don't think so," I replied.
The B digested this information.
"So where does he live?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," I admitted, a response that I'm finding is being used more and more often as his questions become more complicated/obscure/difficult to answer.
Thanks to the prevalence of biscuits and other assorted snack foods in our immediate environment, I managed to change the subject, enabling us to continue our shopping.
Back home again, though, back to the Mr Men, The G selecting her favourite titles and demanding that I read them all, one after the other.
This I didn't mind, the pastime in question one that ranks among the most popular at the present time.
The reading over, The B got up and carried the books to the dining room table, collecting his best Lightning McQueen pen and some paper en route.
There then followed a blissfully-quiet 30-minute period as he sat and practised his letters, copying out all the titles before him most diligently, as The G and I played a board game.
Like I said, book-mad here at the minute.
But it's not just about the reading . . . .

Silent Sunday 26.02.12

Fiction Fridays #15: Baby Brains . . . .

"In the months before Baby Brains was born, Mrs Brains was very busy. 

She read out loud every night to the baby inside her tummy...."

FF#15

Baby Brains: Simon James (2004).

This is Fiction Fridays. These are the Rules. This is the Collection. This is the Pinboard.

For the best in children's books . . . .

Boasting, baths and keeping clean . . . .

Seeing a lot of action at the present time......

I've never been one for boasting.
It sometimes feels as though some parents do nothing but brag about their children and their achievements.
But crowing has no place here.
That said, I do have one claim to make about The B&G, one that could be interpreted as being a bit on the boastful side.
That claim, that there can't be many cleaner children out there.
It's not a conscious thing, this, rather the result of The B&G's latest preferred pastime.
You see, ask them if there's anything they'd like to do and, more often than not, they'll forego the obvious options and instead request a bath.
It has to be unusual, this.
This ablution obsession started during the recent Illness Season, a period of unbroken poorliness that lasted almost a month.
During this time, The B&G found a regular bath to be almost as restorative as Calpol, Peppa Pig and hot Ribena.
The record, four baths in one day; the average, three.
Everyone fighting fit again at last, I've managed to get the number down a little.
Still, it hovers around the two mark on average days, a figure that is due to be reached again today, The B&G having begged for a bath during the post-breakfast period.
It's not something that I encourage, this.
Still, it's nice to have clean children and there are worse things to be addicted to, I suppose. Like boasting . . . .

Burpees, breakfast & unfounded accusations . . . .

Snap, Crackle and........ burp?

The breakfast table.
Nothing but sophisticated conversation here.
Take this exchange from this morning, for instance.
Peace and quiet, for once no-one talking, everyone just munching their respective cereals.
It didn't last long.
The B (to me, no provocation): "Excuse you."
Me (taken aback): "I didn't do anything."
Silence, for just a moment, as The B considered his next move.
The B (still to me): "Excuse you."
Me: "What did I do?"
The B: "You burped".
Me (affronted, having done no such thing): "I didn't."
Short pause.
The B (becoming more amused): "Excuse you."
Me (becoming more cross): "But I didn't do anything."
The B looked at The G, folded his arms and sat back, the blue touchpaper lit, his part in proceedings at an end.
The G (to me): "You did burpee."
Me: "I did not."
The G thought for a moment.
The G: "You did trump?"
Me: "I did not."
The G looked stumped, a much longer pause required for reflection.
The B, smirking.
The G: "You did wee wee?"
The B, in hysterics.
Like I said, nothing but sophisticated conversation at our breakfast table . . . .

Pink cars, no pigs: Olly's a big hit here . . . .

Peppa who?

Illness having been a constant companion for the last month or so, it seems as though the television has been switched on for an age.

That in mind, it'd make a nice change to have something that isn't pig-themed to watch. 

I think that, after much searching, we might at last have found it.

You see, in recent days, The B&G have discovered Olly the Little White Van.

It's a programme that is proving to be most enjoyable.

Perhaps it's because it has a little something for everyone:

- For The B, it's vehicular in nature.

- For The G, there's a pink limousine (and this following a discussion, just the other day, about pink not being a popular colour for cars, much to her obvious consternation).

- For me, it's not Peppa Pig (and that has to be a good thing).

Take all that into account and it's no surprise that it has become so popular.
For the uninitiated, Olly's days are spent having adventures and helping his friends to overcome their respective problems, the general theme being that lending a hand to those in need is always a good thing.
Given that I'm always trying to get The B&G to do a little more around the place, this is something that holds an obvious appeal.
One slight negative, that the episodes are too short, around five minutes in length, not quite long enough for me to engage in a proper snooze.
Given that I am, at present, feeling rather sleep-deprived and cold-ridden - a little earlier, The G said 'You've got a lot of snots today, Daddy' - The B&G's TV time is often an opportune time to catch a quick nap.
That said, Olly's proving such a hit that, unlike the ubiquitous Peppa Pig, it'd be a shame to sleep through it.
Earlier, as the closing credits began to roll on another episode, The B leapt from the sofa, his excitement obvious, and demanded 'another one!'
I looked at The G and she nodded her assent.
It doesn't happen often but for once, it seems as though we're in total agreement here . . .

Sponsored post: Olly the Little White Van is currently showing on CiTV. The third series is due to be released in Summer/Autumn 2012 and a new range of toys and games will go on sale after Easter. For further details, click here to visit Olly's official website.

Silent Sunday 19.02.12

Fiction Fridays #14: Green Eggs and Ham . . . .

"That Sam-I-am! That Sam-I-am! I do not like that Sam-I-am!
Do you like green eggs and ham?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
I do not like green eggs and ham."

FF#14

Green Eggs and Ham: Dr Seuss (1960).

This is Fiction Fridays. These are the Rules. This is the Collection. This is the Pinboard.

For the best in children's books . . . .

I don't just like to read children's books, I also like to write them . . . .

Bossier, bolshier and a bath B-free . . . .

Step away from the bathtub.......

No doubt about it, The G is becoming bolshier.
She has always had assertive tendencies and I am no stranger to taking orders from her.
In recent times, however, she has begun to take The B in hand (no bad thing, it must be said).
The other night, for instance, at their regular bath-time, The B attempted to join The G for a pre-bed soak.
Noting his advances, The G decided to underline her reluctance to share in no uncertain terms.
Standing up, she thrust out an arm, palm raised, assuming the stance of a no-nonsense traffic cop, albeit one quite small, naked and covered in fragrant bubbles.
"Stop!" she ordered, halting him in his tracks.
Bemused, The B looked at her for an explanation.
The G thought for a moment.
"No boys allowed in the bath," she barked, maintaining a stern expression.
The B looked at me, perhaps expecting me to adjudicate.
He must think I have a death wish . . . .

128 + 128 = a problem . . . .

Don't count on me having all the answers.......

I loathed maths lessons at school.

I have never had time for things I'm no good at, and there's no question that this particular subject falls into that particular bracket.

I've mentioned before the fear I have that, once The B's homework starts in earnest, I might be exposed as a simpleton.

It's maths that I'm talking about here. 

Given that he isn't due to start school until September, I thought I still had a little time to brush up on the limited skills that I might once have possessed.

I might have been mistaken. You see, it has begun already.

Earlier today, during the post-lunch period, The B decided to exhibit his mathematics prowess for us all to admire.

"Two plus two makes four," he announced as me and The G finished our sandwiches.

Impressed, I didn't think to discourage him (in hindsight, another mistake).

"Four plus four makes eight," he said next.

So far so good, but the problems soon started.

You see, as the numbers became bigger, it turned out he expected answers.

From ME.

No great problem at first, this, but after a short time, a development that began to give me the fear.

The conversation progressed a little like this:

The B: "What's eight plus eight?"

Me: "16."

The B: "What's 16 plus 16?"

Me: "32."

The B: "What's 32 plus 32?"

Me: "64."

The  B: "What's 64 plus 64?"

Me: "128."

So it continued, the pressure mounting as the numbers became ever greater.

I shall keep the point at which I found myself heading upstairs to fetch the calculator a closely-guarded secret.

But needless to say, this impromptu maths test has done little to ease the fears about homework that I've long been harbouring . . . .

The B: 'It's all Japanese to me . . . .'

Essential reading matter for four-year-olds.......

Concerns have been raised about The B's language development.

Let's be clear about this, I have no worries on this front.

It's The B himself who feels that there might be a problem.

The issue centres around the fact that he is unable to read, write or speak Japanese.

Having consulted other parents, this doesn't seem to be the kind of thing that troubles most four-year-olds.

But then I don't imagine most four-year-olds have an inexplicable fixation with the Tokyo Subway.

The planet's most extensive rapid transit system just so happens to be The B's favourite underground train network.

It's the one he always likes to look at first on the occasions he's allowed to leaf through Mark Ovenden's excellent Metro Maps of the World, a book high on his list of preferred reads.

The problem here, an obvious one.

"It's all Japanese, Daddy," he squeals if ever I ask him to name the stations.

It has become a running joke, one that, trust me, is a great deal funnier than I'm making it sound here.

It goes something like this:

Me (in serious mode): "What's that station called?"

The B (squealing in delight): "It's all Japanese!"

Short pause to regain lost composure.

The B (trying hard to keep a straight face): "Daddy, what's that station called?"

Me (not quite as amused): "I don't know........ (this next bit, the punchline), I can't read Japanese!"

Cue great hilarity, return to start, do it all over again.

Japanese, as a concept, seems to enthral him.

The other day, I put on a T-shirt that just so happened to have a little Japanese script on the front.

The B almost exploded in excitement.

Later, out in the car, driving through town, we passed a Noodle Bar.

"Look Daddy," he shouted from the back seat. "Japanese!"

For a short time, I was impressed at his ability to identify the characters and recognise the language correctly. But then he gave the game away, revealing that Japanese has, for some reason, become his default explanation for anything linguistic that is beyond his understanding.

Yesterday, you see, I managed to get him to look at an underground network other than Tokyo, this time Moscow's magnificent Rapid Transit System capturing his attention.

Once again, unable to read the station names, this time, the script Cyrillic in nature.

The B studied it for a moment before a smile formed on his face.

"Look Daddy," he shrieked. "Japanese!"

Busted . . . .

Pig Daddy and The Octonauts . . . .

From left to right, The G, me and Peso........

The G seems to think she's an Octonaut.

Earlier this morning, I asked her to help me clear up the breakfast things.

"Aye aye, Captain," she replied, doing her best Kwazii Kitten impersonation.

It didn't surprise me. It's not the first time I've heard this.

The B did a similar thing.
In his case, it happened some time ago, during his Thomas and Friends period.

In those days, if ever I asked him to do anything, he'd respond as though addressing Sir Topham Hatt himself.

Example:

Me: "Please pass me a banana."

The B: "Yes Sir!"

Needless to say, I quite liked this and did everything I could to encourage it.

Sadly, it didn't last long.

These days, if I make a request, his standard response is 'Yes, Daddy Pig'.

I object to this less than you might perhaps imagine.

I realise he doesn't mean anything by it and I understand the extent to which Peppa Pig has pervaded the household.

Besides, it beats the alternative.

You see, sometimes he gets his words mixed up and, instead of Daddy Pig, he calls me Pig Daddy. It should come as no surprise to learn that this is not encouraged . . . .

Silent Sunday 12.02.12

Fiction Fridays and the pinboard . . . .

The best in children's books.......

These are exciting times for Fiction Fridays.

It's no longer just the best children's book meme in blogtown. 

No Sir, for these days, Fiction Fridays has its own official online pinboard.

I can take no credit for this, I'm afraid, as it's the brainchild of Anne-Marie, who, using her own excellent Child-Led Chaos blog, has established herself as Fiction Fridays' biggest supporter and second-in-command. 

No-one has posted more Fiction Fridays than Anne-Marie, who has put her encyclopaedic knowledge of children's books to great use in recent times.

You see, not content with listing her own favourite reads, she has also been collecting everyone else's. 

They've been pinned here for perusal.

It's a great development, this, for several reasons.

For one thing, I hadn't appreciated that Fiction Fridays had become so popular.

For another, it has made me realise that, when it comes to children's books, we haven't even scratched the surface.
I thought that I had a good knowledge of the best reads out there, but it turns out there are still countless titles for us to discover.
Fiction Fridays - and Anne-Marie's impressive pinboard - should make finding them much easier in the future.
That, I guess, is the point.
Consider this a fast-growing electronic library, an online reference guide dedicated to the books proving most popular in households near and far. It's something that I shall be sure to consult the next time I feel like adding to our own collection and I hope you will too.

Fiction Fridays #13: Goodnight Owl . . . .

"Owl tried to sleep. 
The bees buzzed, buzz buzz, and Owl tried to sleep."

FF#13

Goodnight Owl: Pat Hutchins (1975).

This is Fiction Fridays. These are the Rules. This is the Collection. This is the Pinboard.

For the best in children's books . . . .

I don't just like to read children's books, I also like to write them . . . .

Back on the bottle (Calpol, that is) . . . .

I have this particular information memorised.........

Unwell again.
The B, that is.
The bad news, that it hasn't been even nearly long enough since the last time.
The slightly better news, that his timing isn't all bad, this being The G's morning at nursery, allowing, at least, a little respite and recuperation.
First thing this morning, a brave face.
It didn't last long.
The retreat to the sofa inevitable, the central heating cranked up, favourite blanket on, the television a useful distraction.
Even that couldn't lift his spirits for long though, his general demeanour becoming ever-more hangdog as the morning progressed.
This exchange from a short time ago:
Me: "Are you comfortable?"
The B: "I don't know."
Me: "Are you warm enough?"
The B: "I don't know."
Me: "Do you feel poorly?"
The B: "I don't know."
Me: "Can I get you a drink?"
The B: "I don't know."
Me: "Is there anything you'd like to do?
The B: "I don't know."
Short pause, The B thought for a moment.
"I don't know much, do I?" he said.

Riding pigs at Center Parcs . . . .

Faster than a speeding ........ pig?

Holidays all sorted.
Center Parcs again, the fourth summer in succession.
Some obvious benefits in this, these, in the main, location (83 minutes, door-to-door (I've timed it)), free tropical swimming pool, squirrels on tap and Movenpick ice cream.
There are also the plentiful activities on offer.
The G has chosen hers already, some plausible, others less so.
Horse riding falls into the former category, pig riding into the latter.
For this, I blame Olivier Dunrea, whose Gossie & Friends stories have long ranked amongst The G's preferred reads.
The G has, I'm afraid, become accustomed to seeing her favourite gosling going for pig rides and accepted this as normal behaviour. It seems that, in her mind, at least, if it's good enough for Gossie . . . .

There's no such thing as a bad Trump . . . .

Check out the fuel tank on that......

It's not all computer games around here.
Far from it, in fact.

You see, I'm pleased to report that there's still a place for pastimes a little less hi-tech.

There's our fast-growing board game collection, for example, these, in the main, offerings from Orchard Toys, our favourite manufacturer.

Snap is also rather popular, be the cards Timmy, In the Night Garden or Peppa Pig-themed.

Then there's Top Trumps.

The eagle-eyed might have noticed that, when last I mentioned said pursuit, the cards in the picture were not, in fact, Top Trumps, but the lesser-known Ace Trumps.

You see, when it comes to The Trumps, we don't discriminate.

The basic game, the same: appraising values in various categories and then using them in an attempt to outscore your opponent.

Like the ZX Spectrum, The Trumps are something that I remember from childhood.
Like computer games, they've stood the test of time.

The B, in particular, is enjoying these at the moment and, much like the online activities that have consumed several hours in recent times, there is an obvious educational element involved.

These are great for practising numbers and, in particular, for learning about sums a little larger.
The Kawasaki ZXR 750, for instance, 14,200 revs per minute.
Priceless knowledge for a four-year-old.

Depending on the cards chosen, it is possible to acquire information about various subjects.

In the main these are vehicular, but we've also got a dinosaur pack in our collection and are hoping to expand our horizons further in the coming months.
The Top Trumps that our local stockists sell are, at the present time, a little too TV-orientated for me, although, that said, The B's Cars 2 deck is proving popular.
The preferred brand, Ace Trumps, no doubt about it.
Racing Motorbikes, Supercars, Commercial Planes and, our most-recent purchase, Farm Vehicles, Ace Trumps are a class apart.
Countless hours can be spent doing battle over maximum speeds, cylinder numbers and the lengths of various combine harvesters.
In fact, the more I think about it, the more I'm starting to realise that computer games are perhaps not all they're cracked up to be after all . . . .

Education, addiction & computer cravings . . . .

Next stop, Xbox.....

First computer, ZX Spectrum.
Rubber keys, 48k memory, the games on cassette tapes, the future.
This ages me rather, I realise, but there it is.
I mention this because, in recent days, The B&G have both discovered computer games.
It's not quite Manic Miner but, for their respective ages, the games in question are rather sophisticated.
Located here, on the Lego website, there is a generous selection from which to choose.
The Train Game, The Cake Game, The Shop Game, The Rocket Game and more, The B&G like them all.
Indeed, so much gaming has been done in recent days that I've found it difficult to get access to the laptop (bad for blogging, good for New Year's Resolution Number 9).
The B likes to think that he's in charge.
Yesterday, The G, allowed to command the mouse for a rare moment, discovered a game that hadn't before been encountered.
It looked a little complicated.
The B thought about it for a minute.
"This game's too difficult for little people," he said.
Not the others, though, so much so that several hours have been spent at the keyboard, baking virtual cakes, assembling space rockets and serving shoppers.
Could this be an addiction in the making?
Certain symptoms are being displayed, there can be no doubt (the wide eyes, the aching fingers, the tears whenever a higher authority rules that it is time to turn it off).
These I recognise from the Spectrum days.
For the time being, however, I'm not too concerned.
For one thing, this is a pastime that - for now, at least - The B&G are enjoying together.
For another, the games that are being enjoyed at this time all have a strong educational aspect and exposure to them is making The B&G computer literate to a surprising degree.
Yesterday, teasing them for a moment, as is my wont, I pretended to be unable to locate their favourite game.
"Just go to the Lego website," came the instruction. "It's there. In the games section."
Needless to say, I obliged . . . .
. . . . after all, the Spectrum experience has ensured that I understand computer cravings more than most.

Dashing through the snow . . . .

Faster than a speeding bullet.......

Some snow. Not a lot, but just about enough . . . .
. . . . for a little light sledging, that is.
Earlier this morning, before the sun could melt our modest covering, out in our blue plastic speed machine, The G at the back, The B in the pilot's seat, both clinging on for dear life.
Our course, up the street (on the pavement), off the kerb (the bump the best bit), a quick skid around and then back down (on the road for this part) at several thousand miles-per-hour.
It felt that fast to me, at least, attempting to remain upright as I pulled The B&G at ever-increasing speeds down the slight hill that is our road.
Both loved it, The G singing Jingle Bells throughout, The B expressing his own delight in squeal form.
Later, the excitement having subsided a little, a rather more measured appraisal.
"The best Winter Day ever," The B said, The G nodding in enthusiastic fashion.
Not bad as endorsements go, I suppose.
But then, they've both had to wait an awful long time for this.