Pancake Day

Pancake day yesterday. Mummy flipped (the pancakes that is!).

Personal Trainer

I've decided that the parents have now reached the age when physical training can begin. I've taken on the burden of getting them into shape.

Thus, yesterday afternoon, had you been in the right place at the right time you would have observed Granny and Mummy trudging through a windswept field, me shouting from up ahead

"Come on. This way", leading them on another lap as I show them how exercise should be done.

And yesterday at tea time, Daddy with a big slice of Thornton's Toffee cake on this plate.

"If you eat all that Daddy, you'll be fat like Mr Greedy." Daddy carries on eating. More vivid methods needed. So I shuffle back in my chair, puff out my chest as far as it will go. "You'll have a fat tummy like this", I point.

Musical Mummy

It's a little known fact, that my Mummy played the violin. She played it today in fact. It's been some years since she last got it out of its box: the A-string had snapped and needed to be replaced.

Today the man in the music shop fixed it for her, and she brought it home. I sat down in anticipation as she got it out of its box and began to tune it up. She drew the bow over the strings.

Awwww-eeee-ooooooh. I just managed to stop my hands going to my ears.

"I think it needs new batteries, Mummy" I said helpfully.

But Mummy shook her head. "It doesn't take batteries."

"Perhaps it needs more new strings," I suggested, "or maybe some food would make it feel better!"

Reading the signs

Car journeys are rather more interesting now that I can see out of the Window. I provide a valuable service to Mummy and Daddy by alerting them to key landmarks as we pass them. It sharpens my sign-reading skills as well.

"Look, Mummy. There's Asda", I might say. Or, "There's a Post Office."

The other day we were driving past some shops and I said "There's a butcher's shop Mummy". Mummy looked at me in surprise.

"How do you know," she asked.

Sometimes these parents do ask dumb questions.

"Because its got meat in", I replied, shutting my mouth before the "duh!" escaped.

Down a peg or two.

Daddy was playing the piano yesterday, and thinking himself rather too good at it.

"Shall I help with you Daddy?", I asked. "I think that's too hard for boys"

Christmas

A few Christmas pictures at last.

Christmas started early for me this year. At the beginning of December we went on a trip to Lapland - in Kent ("Lapland UK", as I told everybody). Father Christmas took time out from bossing his elves to see me; and I helped out Mrs Christmas in her Gingerbread kitchen.

You'll be glad to know that even with those distractions, he still found time to drop off my presents. Perhaps he had help from my other hero to make his deliverys?

Yes! I had a dressing up box for Christmas. Expect many more characters to appear on your screen in the coming months.

Playing with Words

It's not just toys that you can play with: I discovered the other day that words are just as much fun.

Daddy had made me scrambled egg with toast for breakfast. He called me to the table in the dining room, tucked me into my apron (my new Harod's Apron!) and left me to tuck into my food.

But I was feeling a bit lazy that morning, so I called him back to help me.

"Eggward!", I called. Daddy came in looking puzzled.

"Why did you call me Eggward?", he asked.

"Thomas the Tank Engine has a friend called Edward", I said, by way of explanation. And Daddy quickly cottoned on.

"So you called me Eggward, because you wanted me to feed you your egg?". Then, with a twinkle in his eye, Daddy asked "What would you have called me if you wanted me to feed you your bread?"

I chuckled. "Breadward!"

A train ride

Speaking in tongues

Mummy and I were in the supermarket yesterday, checking off the list of things that we needed to stock our cupboards.

"We need petit pois next", Mummy said.

I looked at her, puzzled: "Why are you speaking French, Mummy?" I asked.

"What should I have said?"

"Peas, Mummy".

The magic ingredient

It's that time of year again. The time when, with Christmas still ridiculously far into the future, good housewives suddenly get the urge to start baking the Christmas Cake. So Mummy and I, good housewives that we are, set off for the supermarket.

Into the trolley went the usual currants, cherries, candied peel, along with the flour and eggs and all the other things that I usually add to the mixture by the bag-full.

But I was sure there was something missing. I scanned the shelves, but couldn't see it.

"Mummy, don't we need Christmas for the Christmas cake?"

Bath Time

A regular part of my evening routine is a bath. I like baths. I can teach Dora and Boots how to swim. I can squirt daddy with my Sea horse water pistol. I can scribble a masterpiece on the side of the bath with my bath crayons. But what I can't do is avoid having my hair washed.

"Don't I have to have my hair washed tonight?", I ask hopefully, every night without fail. Six nights out of seven I get the hoped for reply. But on that other night, often, mysteriously, after I have been swimming, Mummy directs a glance at Daddy and says "I'm afraid you do".

Then it begins. Hair drenched; shampoo lathered in; then soap washed out of my hair and into my eyes. I've tried watching my dollies as I wash their hair, to see how they can remain stoical in the face of the ordeal. They manage it even with their eyes open. I don't see how it can be done.

And so from the moment Mummy begins, to the moment Daddy wraps my head in the towel I keep up a constant chorus of "Is it finished yet? Is it finished yet? Is it finished yet?"

And it seems to be working. Hair washing has become noticeably quicker now that I've learnt that the way to Mummy's heart-strings is through her ears.

Energy

Fishing for Complements

I looked up as Mummy came downstairs into the Lounge.

"You look pretty today, Mummy"

"Thank you, Sophie"

Silence

"Mummy, you could say 'you look pretty today, Sophie'!"

Eating like a pig

Mummy and I were driving past a restaurant sign-posted by the Golden Arches today.

"There's Old-MacDonald-had-a-farm", I pointed out to Mummy.

"It's not Old-MacDonald-had-a-farm", Mummy corrected, "It's McDonald's"

And that was my inspiration.

"Old MacDonald had a farm," I sang, "E-I-E-I-O"
"And on that farm he fed fish and chips to his pigs, E-I-E-I-O"

[Better, perhaps, than what some farmers fed to their cows - Dad]

Inconsistencies

Breakfast Time.

I finish crunching my last crust of honey-and-butter toast.

"Can I have another piece?", I ask Daddy, who at that moment takes a bite from his own toast.

"Whasthemagicwordmf?", he asks.

"Please!", I reply, and then think to myself, "Should Daddy be teaching me manners with his mouth full?"

Yorkshire Holiday

We went up to the wilds of Yorkshire last week, and who better to take with me than Dora the Explorer.

"What am I going to eat in Yorkshire?" I asked Mummy before we went. You have to be sure about these things.

"What do you think you're going to eat?", Mummy asked me in return.

"Fish and Chips and Ketchup and Yorkshire Pudding"

A rainy day lesson

"Why does it rain, Mummy?" We were both stood at the window, looking at the rain outside keeping us inside.

"The rain comes down from the clouds", Mummy replied.

"But how does the rain get in the clouds?" I persisted.

So Mummy explained about the sun sucking the water up from the sea and the rivers and the poor little rain drops getting cold when they get up in the sky so they all huddle together to get warm again. And that makes the clouds.

And what could I say to that but, "Wow!"

A bone to pick

At tea tonight:

"You better watch it," said Granny, "I've just found a bone in my fish". I think, in her roundabout way, she was reminding Mummy to check my dinner. Mummy is used to this.

"You're lucky then," said Mummy. "I haven't had any"

"I've got a bone in my arm" I piped up, sure that everyone would be interested. And indeed, Daddy was.

"Where have you got another bone?" he inquired.

"In my other arm!"

This is the way we go to (pre)school

A few months back Mummy and Daddy found me on the sofa with the phone on my lap.

"What are you doing, Sophie?" Mummy asked.
"I'm phoning the lady to ask her if I can go to school", I replied, adding a touch of impatience to my tone. I asked Mummy weeks before if she would do it, but she hadn't got round to it.

Well, Mummy must finally have gotten round to putting through that all-important call. Last week I started Preschool. Off I went with my Dora bag packed.

"Did you enjoy it? Do you want to go again?", Mummy asked afterwards.

"It's cancelled next week", I replied.

(But I think I might like to go again)

Welcome home Leo

Last time you visited, I told you about the felicious feline find that Mummy made. Today I bring you pictures of my new friend Leo arriving in his new home. I'm afraid it was a rather undignified arrival:

Here's me presenting Leo with his Id card. (I can't remember what it really was)

Daddy's Birthday

Guess who's birthday this was? Not mine - that was in April. No, it was Daddy's. Don't you think I made an excellent choice of cake?

A true story

I was telling my friend today about my trip to the Blue Cross Animal Rescue Centre. Daddy has finally agreed to us having a cat, and we'd gone to look for a winsome waif or stray.

"Mummy wanted a tabby one", I told her, " and I wanted a ginger one. But they didn't have any pink ones."

As we were looking around Mummy spotted a very handsome cat. Good job Daddy wasn't there; I don't think he ever gets such admiring looks as went this cat's way. But then she looked a bit closer - and realised that it was somepuss she knew.

You see, about year ago one of Granny's two cats went on holiday and didn't come back. Granny gave him up for lost. But now, when Mummy went over to this fine feline and called the name "Leo" he came and purred to her. She's just got to take in pictures now to prove that he is really him, and then he can come home with us.

Brings tears to your eyes doesn't it. (Or maybe its his long hairs).

My Holiday

Sorry for the long gap between posts, by the way. I've been on Holiday you see. This time to a place somewhere between Weymouth and Bournemouth. Here's me on a ride at Weymouth Sea Life Park, which is well worth a visit.

Hide and Seek

My cousin (give or take a few Firsts, Seconds or once-removeds) Leila has being playing with me all this week. Today we played hide and seek. She hid first. But then I lost her, and I cried.

Next it was my turn to hide. I wanted to make sure she didn't suffer the same kind of trauma as I did, so I said

"I'm going upstairs to hide under the duvet. Count to ten, them come and find me."

I was not long tucked up, when Leila and Mummy clumped up the stairs and started prodding around in the bedroom.

"Where's Sophie gone?" I heard Mummy say.

"I don't know, I can't see her anywhere" replied Leila.

"Oh honestly!" I thought. Then, out loud: "I told you where I am. I'm hiding under the duvet on the bed!"

Two heads are better than one

Morning Song

I usually speak to my Granny (my normal Granny as I say, to distinguish her from my great Granny) when Mummy phones her in the morning.

Granny is full of little rhymes, as, I suppose, good grannies are trained to be. Classics like
Nightie, Nightie
Sleepy Tightie
Mind the Bugs don't Bitie!

and
See you later alligator
(and I reply) In a while crocodile.

One morning she surprised me with the new tale of Fuzzy Wuzzy:
Fuzzy Wuzzy wuz a bear
Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair
Fuzzy Wuzzy wuzn't Fussy, wuz he?

"I've never known Granny so bright and bouncy!", I told Mummy

A discovery

Don't those clothes look pretty! Well, they might do. But there's something more exciting about them: I can take them off by myself. This was the day when Mummy kept my clothes on me for about an hour at most. I kept surprising her with a "Peek-a-boo", and the sight of me in my birthday suite.

One time I had to go outside to find her.

"Ooo. It's a bit windy out here", I said, as the wind got one layer closer to me that it usual does.

First in the queue

It was my Great Great Aunty Joan's ninetieth birthday last week. We went along to help her eat the cake. I made sure I was close by, just in case she wasn't sure which bit was best for me.

Missing Daddy

Daddy's been working very hard recently. At least, he's been at work a lot, which I suppose is the same thing. Sometimes he's left before I've even got up. That means that Mummy has to give me my breakfast, and she's not nearly so well trained.

"This breakfast isn't much good", I said sadly.

"Thanks Sophie!", huffed Mummy

"Well, its alright I suppose, but it isn't as nice as Daddy's", I said, by way of comforting her. "I think Daddy said he'll be home for teatime, but I can't remember"

I've been up to London to visit the Queen

A couple of weeks ago, Daddy went up to London on business (I thought I'd write that, to make him feel important when he reads it!). Mummy and I tagged along in his suitcase.

Whilst he worked, we played. We took in Saint Paul's cathedral, the Millenium bridge (which didn't bounce nearly enough), the London Eye, and then, after a mad dash accross Westminster bridge (and a wrong turn into Downing Street), the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace.

Mummy overheard a tour guide telling his crowd that "this was the absolute best spot to see it all from". So Mummy pushed me in there quick. And we had a lot to see. HM was recieving VIPs that day, and they arrived by golden coach (I checked for telltale pumpkin leaves sprouting from the top) topped with a full compliment of footmen.

"That's how you get to see the Queen, Sophie", Mummy said to me. "You have to be important and go in a coach."

"No Mummy, I'll just go and knock on the door", I replied with the confidence of one who always has time for visitors.

"I don't think she'd answer", said Mummy.

"Yes she would", said I, undaunted. "I'll just go round the back!"

Hanging out

"Those are pretty knickers. Those must be mines!"

Swinging

There's a song to sing on a seesaw,
But what to sing on a swing?

Peekaboo

Peekaboo. I see you

"Let me think!"

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]"!

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!"

Precision!

Busy Girl

Whose business should I be minding?

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.

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.

Signs

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?

Both of them

"Get Puzzles and Doll's house please, Mummy"

I already had one box of toys out, so I was pushing it a bit; but worth a try anyway.

"You can't have both of them. Which one do you want? Puzzles or Doll's house?"

"Doll's house and Puzzles!"

"You can only have one or the other. If you have the Doll's house, you can't have the Puzzles. So which one do you want?"

"Doll's house"

So Mummy reaches up to fetch it for me.

"And puzzles", I say.

No use crying over spilt ...

I'm currently training Mummy to provide me with a potty, rather than with Nappies. It's much more civillised, but occasionally less convenient.

Today, for example, as I was playing outside, I was much too busy to mention to Mummy that she might like to bring out my portable loo. Shortly thereafter Mummy looked at me with an expression.

"Don't worry, Mummy," I said. "Just wet knickers, and wet floor. I'll sweep it up".

I did go to get the broom, but Mummy didn't seem to think that my help was necessary.

A special visitor

I had a visitor come to see me on Saturday: Daddy's friend from university. She wanted to go to the park, so I agreed to go and play with her (I had to get Daddy and Mummy to take me in the car of course - no knowing what trouble they might get into if I let them go off on their own). After we'd done what she wanted, we got to do what I wanted. Read books:

And then we went home and played in my new sandpit all afternoon. Her hands were lovely for burying.

For tea we had my favourite: garlic breath [I think Squiggler means bread-Ed.] and pizza. Then we ate some of the nice biscuits she'd made for us: I had a number 2 because that's how old I am.

Minding my mes and yous

I mentioned a while back that I have problems with "you" and "me". I'm getting better, but those words do still get themselves confused. Take today for example:

"I love you", says Mummy.

"I love me too", says I.

Mummy must think I'm terribly self-centered!

Choose!

Now that my parents are growing up a bit, I feel it is only right that they should start to learn to make choices. So I've started a new game with them:

"Choose, Daddy", I say, offering him two bracelets.

"I'll have that one", he says, pointing to my favourite.

"Can't have that one", I say. "Choose this one"!

With Mummy, there's no knowing what she might do if given complete freedom. So when I offer her two blocks, I have to be quite careful:

"Choose blue one, Mummy"!

Typing

You wouldn't belive it, but until today, I've never been able to produce anything inteligable when I've set fingers to computer keyboard. I've always relied on my amanuensis - Daddy.

But now I have proof that my own fingers are up to the job. Here it is: every letter typed by myself - Daddy just helped with locating the letters. Oh, and reminding me which order they like to appear in; and which ones to press!

Safari Park

On my Birthday, Mummy and Daddy and Granny and Aunty L and Aunty A took me to the Safari Park (or Safari Car Park as I keep calling it - not inappropriately if you look at the queues to get round it during busy times). We saw several big bad wolves. What do you think they are looking at? (Clue: it wasn't Little Red Riding hood).

There's the answer!


The elephant posed for Aunty L to take a picture.


And the giraffe collected his order from the drive-by!

My Birthday

It was my birthday on Monday. "Two in April", as I've been telling everybody. Here's the official birthday portrait, taken two years-exactly-to-the-minute after I was born.

With great age comes great responsibility, so I though I ought to start cultivating a grown up look. What do you think?
I had my favourite breakfast - Seedy bread and butter.

And Mummy made me a fantastic cake: nice enough to live in! (This was at tea-time, not breakfast time)