Thursday, June 23, 2011

What have I done with my pocketses?

After Mummy got him dressed this morning, Baby Brother played quite happily for a few minutes. To his delight, he found a penny on the floor. But seconds later he noticed something which put him in great perplexity. He went running to the fount of all wisdom. But she was in the bathroom, so he had to make do with Daddy.

Patting his shorts, and lifting up his tee-shirt, Baby Brother really did look most concerned.

“Where have my pockets gone, Daddy?”, he asked.

Thus it fell to Daddy to explain that, since pockets are not known for spontaneously detaching themselves from garments, it was most likely that Mummy had dressed him in shorts without pockets that morning. And, clever Daddy that he is, he guessed at the question behind the question, and suggested a solution.

“Why don’t you put that penny in your money box instead?”

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Great Grapes

One thing that Mummy and I have learnt about baby brother is that he doesn’t like running on empty. If his internal fuel gauge should happen to dip into the red, we all know about it - the grump-o-meter goes through the roof.

To make sure this doesn’t happen, Mummy plys him with snacks – healthy ones, of course - throughout the day. Never mind hollow legs: I think he has a Tardis for a stomach.

This morning it was grapes and bread sticks on the menu. But baby brother was being a bit picky.

Reaching into his bowl, he fished out an especially large grape.

“No like this one, Mummy”, he wined1, “Too sturdy.”

  1. Sorry – couldn’t resist! It was more a mild complaint.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Mummy’s little helper

It was Granny’s birthday last week. I planned her a delicious party picnic – and then left Mummy and Baby Brother in charge of packing it, whilst I kept Granny occupied (watching TV).

And Baby Brother was very keen to help.

“Do with these, Mummy?”, he asked as he got the salad vegetables out of the shopping bag.

“We need to wash those”, said Mummy, back turned, busy making sandwiches.

A few minutes later, sandwiches now neatly wrapped in foil, Mummy turned her attention to the salad. But she couldn’t find those vegetables anywhere.

“What did you do with the vegetables?”, she asked her little helper. For answer, he led her to the corner of the lounge, and pointed to his toy washing machine – wherein was a jumble of carrots, tomatoes and a cucumber.

“Washing them, Mummy”, he explained, clearly proud of his ingenuity.

The rest of the picnic came together without mishap, until:

“I think we’re going to have to squash this down”, said Mummy looking at the now brim-full cool-bag, with yet another box in her hand. She didn’t notice that Baby Brother had the Pork Pie in his hand, holding it out to her to be packed.

What she did notice, moments later, was Baby Brother jumping up and down – on top of the Pork Pie.

“What are you doing, baby?” she asked, hastily retrieving the pie from under his feet.

“Squashing it, Mummy”, replied her ever helpful son.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Not such an Open Mic

Baby brother was playing with a little friend today. Little friend had a microphone – a real microphone, though not plugged in – and was singing away to himself and, no doubt, an adoring crowd.

Tiring of that game, little friend put the microphone down and moved on to something else. So baby brother seized his chance. He picked up the mic, and began to croon.

But his playmate was having none of it. He rushed across the room and grabbed the microphone back.

Baby brother just looked at him scornfully.

“Doesn’t work anyway”, he said.