Tuesday, 29 April 2014

Changing Rooms

Gertie's room is having a makeover.

The deal was that if she could keep her room tidy for the entire month of February, she could choose wallpaper, see Guerilla Littering, and if she continued the tidiness through Lent then she could have the whole room done.

Given her propensity to create mess, I didn't expect to be in the position that we are in now.  Hearth-father is busy with the sander; the wallpaper is up on two 'feature' walls; the remaining walls are painted in 'silver mist', and we are rid of three sacks of clothes and toys.

All good.  Except that the designs Gertie has chosen suggest that she has gone from a six-year-old to a teenager overnight.

Here's the old one:



Sweet, girly, pink (probably too much, but hey ho) innocent, doll-filled, pretty.

Here's the new one (unfinished):


It needs a rug to cover those pristine white floorboards (I'm wincing already as I imagine what they will look like in a few weeks time) But mostly screaming purple, grown-up, boudoir-ish.

Can someone tell me where my little girl went?


Currently reading: Heresy by SJ Parris

Saturday, 12 April 2014

Scissorgate

Perhaps jealous at her brother's recent 'Niall from One Direction' haircut, Gertie decided yesterday morning to give herself a new style.  This basically involved hacking a very short fringe in the manner of a seventies popstar - perhaps Dave Hill of Slade fame. It is definitely not a good look - though mildly amusing, and we are, at least, several months away from the next set of school photographs.


What was more disturbing was the other use to which the scissors were put; namely, cutting into the upholstery on a one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old chair, which I recently moved into the bathroom.  Lucky it wasn't a brand new one, or a might have been really cross.

Currently reading: A Fair Maiden by Joyce Carol Oates


Monday, 7 April 2014

Alien Goo in One Direction

Day one of the Easter holidays means a trip to the barbers for Gilby.  His thick, unruly hair just about makes it through a half term before he begins to resemble a cross between Stig of the Dump and Hagrid (minus the beard).

Usually a 'trim and tidy' will suffice.  On this occasion, however, I am not able to look the barber in the eye as I outline my four-year-old's requirements:

"So, there are two things that you need to know."  (Here I cough and clear my throat.) "Um, he has clumps of alien goo stuck into the left hand side of his head which will need cutting out..."  I pause for a moment, (thinking back to the small pocket money alien-embryo toy that we bought yesterday and regretted almost immediately) and then find that the words, "And he'd like you to cut it like Niall from One Direction," tumble out.


I know which one I feel more unsettled by.

I also never cease to be amazed by the statements I am forced to make as a parent...



Currently reading: Igboland by Jeff Gardiner