Saturday, 31 March 2012

What's Current on Currants?

I am amazed at the retail diversification prompted by the current economic climate.

Gilby comes home from nursery singing, not, "Five currant buns in the baker's shop..." but "Five caravans in the bacon shop..." He is adamant that those are the right words, though he is unable to explain quite why the proprietor of this strange establishment would wish to sprinkle sugar on the top of such wares.

Cunning old butchers branching out into the motor-home market, I say.

Tuesday, 20 March 2012

The Importance of Being Earnest


I came down the stairs this morning wearing the same dress as in this picture. (Not a good photo, I grant you, but I was nearly six months pregnant then, now I look much more svelt in it. Or so I tell myself.)

I'm slightly struggling with the working wardrobe, but this is a trusty old number. Or it was, until Gilby remarked, with an indescribable earnestness, "Oooh Mummy. I like your spiderman outfit!"

Thursday, 15 March 2012

Names You Should Never Be Called By Your Children

Gertie and Gilby have been playing schools.

Gertie dons a pair of spectacles and is transformed into the teacher. She is then able to boss her younger brother about with impunity. She enjoys taking a 'register', and it seems very important for new pupils to have a 'visit'. She sometimes enlists my help. I am usually 'Mrs Hancock', the school receptionist. At intervals I will be asked for various administrative details...starting date, forms, letters, etc. Gilby plays along well, but he has not experienced school, and certainly can't pronounce 'Mrs Hancock' with any degree of success. Both of them get very involved in the role-play. Gilbert, in particular, is preoccupied with who is who and what is what in their imaginative play-world.

At one point this week, in the midst of a 'lesson', Gertie and Gilby had a bit of a fight. Gertie came running in to the kitchen, shouting, "Mummy, mummy, Gilby's not playing nicely, he just..."

But I didn't hear what he 'just' did, because Gilby himself interrupted. "No Gertie. Mummy is not Mummy. Her is a cock."

Sunday, 11 March 2012

Gilby Dolittle

Gilby is fascinated by The Gruffalo. He would happily have that same story read to him every night, even though he knows it word for word and has fallen asleep on more than one occasion reciting the words aloud. For my own sanity I have to vary the choice of bedtime reading material. The Gruffalo's Child is second choice, not because he loves that story in the same way, but simply for the mention of the hallowed gruffalo itself.

Out walking the dog with me, or accompanying me in the car whilst driving down country lanes, Gilby will insist on searching for snake's log-pile house, fox's underground house and owl's tree-top house, because that way we might come across the gruffalo itself. These will be solemn, whispered, often urgent searches. See, I truly think he thinks that the gruffalo is real.

He definitely has something of the naturalist about him, even at two-and-a-half: he will always pick me flowers (will he still be doing that at fifteen, I wonder?), and can spend an inordinate amount of time appreciating a blade of grass. Today, for example, whilst we were at a birthday party and all the other children were busy on the treasure hunt, his 'treasure' was collecting dozens of sycamore leaves.

But I started to worry when he told me that the owls were 'talking to him' in the night. Was this a dream? I needed to get to the bottom of it. He was quite insistent about it, but wouldn't tell me what they were saying because they were talking to him. He even made the noises for me, which in fairness, were quite owl-like. It was only later when I saw collared doves fly off from roosting beneath his window that I realised it must have been their cooing he meant (not unlike the twit-twoo attributed to an owl.

So he doesn't talk to the animals, (yet), but is certainly convinced that they are communicating with him.

I wonder what that gruffalo will say, if he ever finds it.

Friday, 2 March 2012

Back in Two Ticks!


Gilby's language acquisition is such that, although he is only two, at times he sounds like he is forty-two. Here are some of his latest expressions:

"Back in two ticks!" - As he leaves the room to fetch another toy.
"Would you do me a favour?" - Usually when he wants some more milk.
"While you're tidying would you keep an eye out for..." - Any small lost thing that he is concerned about.

He seems to only need to hear an adult say something once before adopting it himself. It all sounds very funny, coming earnestly from the mouth of a still-wobbly toddler.