Saturday, May 26, 2007

"Let me think!"

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A name I call myself

A conversation I had with Daddy:

"How are you today Daddy?"

"I'm fine, thank you. How are you [my name here]?"

"Actually Daddy, I have a name called Sophie!"

And that made me think. I don't like using my real name when I'm writing because it's a bit unusual, and people might copy it for themselves! All through my holiday last week (which I'll be telling you about soon), I've been calling myself Sophie: Mummy and Daddy took a while to get used to it, but they've cottoned on.

So now I've decided I'll call myself Sophie on my blog. It's a lot prettier than "[my name here]"!

Monday, May 14, 2007

Still Choosey

Mummy still needs practice with this choosing business. So today I set out all my best food in a delectable line across the carpet.

"Choose whatever you like, Mummy!" I said.

"I'll have chicken and a fried egg, please", she said (aren't her manners coming along nicely!). But she obviously wasn't listening carefully enough:

"No Mummy," I told her, "Can't have that. You only like Chicken!"


Saturday, May 12, 2007

Busy Girl

Whose business should I be minding?
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Thursday, May 10, 2007

Making Music

I love music.

I love listening to music on the radiator (Daddy sometimes serves up Radio 3 along with my cornflakes). I'm always asking Daddy to play "tap-tap" when we get in the car ("tap-tap" is my short-speak for "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands tap tap").

It's great sitting on Mummy's lap helping her play the piano, sometimes even with my feet. And dancing to Daddy's accordion music is such an exciting way of exercising.

But there is nothing quite like making music ones self. This morning I found that throwing a box with a metal lid onto the floor made a lovely boioioioioioing noise.

"What sort of music is that?" I asked Daddy.

"Experimentalist music, I think" he said.

Friday, May 04, 2007

Growing up, slowly

As I was walking down stairs this morning (one hand holding the stair rail, the other, Daddy's hand), Daddy said to me,

"You are a big girl now"

"Not big enough", I sighed.

Later, as Daddy was putting my breakfast on the table, I decided that I was big enough to begin to exercise a woman's perogative.

Daddy had already asked me which spoon I wanted to eat my cornflakes with. At my request, he'd given me my Winnie-the-pooh spoon. But as Daddy lifted me into my big-girls chair, I said

"Sorry Daddy, wrong spoon. Need Nemo spoon"

Daddy directed at me that expression that I'm told will become familiar to me as the "Women!" expression. Then he dutifully exchanged my spoon.

Thursday, May 03, 2007


Learning to read is fun, but its a slow, letter-by-letter business. Daddy and I share the work sometimes: he tells me what the word is, and I tell him what the letters are.

One of my favourite things at the moment is reading signs.

What does this one say?