Ideal Home?

Do you think the Ideal Home magazine would run a story on me? My home is ideal for me. Surely this picture would make the magazine: I could tell them about them about my latest project to tile the lounge floor with alphabet flash cards. 

What's going on here?

Don't tell Daddy about this one: I'm not sure he would like me disco dancing! 

Recursion!

You are now looking at a picture of me looking at pictures of me! 

An ethical dilema

Until Sunday afternoon, White chocolate Malteasers were my favourite sweet in the whole wide world.

Not any more.

You see, Granny had put five of the milky white crunchy sweets in a bowl, and handed them to me. What a treat! And so I munched happily away for three mouthfulls. Then it happened.

"Can I have one, please?", said Mummy.

What am I to do? Hand already on its way to mouth with the fourth Malteaser - too late for Mummy to have that one. And so I looked at the fifth. There in my other hand, the chocolate begining to melt, promising to dissolve as deliciously on my tongue, and the crunch as crispily between my teath, as the rest.

But Mummy wants it. She said so. And Mummy is very good to me. She always makes sure that I start my tea before she starts hers. She breaks off bits of her cookie for me, she bakes me bananna bread.

But she eats more than me anyway. She doesn't need one of my Malteasers. Granny gave them to me. Why should I give one to Mummy?

But she's my Mummy. I love her. She gives me my milk every morning, and every evening before I go to sleep. Perhaps she needs White Malteasers to make my Milk?

Oh, what should I do?

It was too much for me. I burst into tears.

And then I squashed the Malteaser in my fist and threw it on the floor.

A record breaker?

So a four year old is going to get the record for Lands End-to-John O'Groats is he? My trusty new steed and I will see about that! 

Visiting India in Leicester

We went to India today - India in Leicester that is. Aunty Jay lives there, and we went to visit. Mummy bought me a nice new suit. Smart, isn't it?

Door of opportunity

To what new world does this door lead? 

Aunty Aileen

My Aunty Aileen (That's Ay-leen, not Ay-lee-en as my Daddy sometimes calls her- she's not at all green, and she drives something more firmly attached to the ground than a UFO) came over from Canada to see me. I think she was seeing other people as well, and doing some kind of tour thingy in Europe, but I was obviously the main attraction.

She's a librarian. Does this picture give it away? 

The Monster

In a nice, nice village, there is a nice, nice street. And in that nice, nice street, there is a nice, nice house. And in that nice, nice house there is a strange, strange room. And in that strange, strange room, there lives a MONSTER.

Grey and yellow, it lurks in the corner, sleeping most of the day through, until at evening it emerges. Dragged by my brave Mummy, it is taken to the bottom of my high chair. From my cotroom I hear it roar as it greedily eats up the crumbs which have fallen from my table.

I wonder about it sometimes, as I play in the other room: what does it do as it lies there. Of what does it dream? Of carpets covered in lucious layers of dust? Of sofas, recesses spilling over with crunchy crumbs?

Is it lonely, I wonder? Does it ever want anybody to play with? So I go to it, crawling along the corridor, pushing open the door. And there it is, it's last meals layered in its transparent stomach. I pat it lovingly, and wonder at its un-monster-like name: Dyson.

The power of a new pair of shoes

After much deliberation, I finally chose my next pair of shoes: Canvas pumps with pictures of washing hanging on the line. I hope that doesn't mean I'm going to have to put the washing out from now on.

These shoes are amazing: they worked wonders for me today. I was at the park, you see, playing on the swings, and bouncy things, and I was getting impatient waiting for Mummy to give we a finger so that we could toddle to the next bit of fun, when I thought: I wonder what my new shoes can do for me. And no sooner had I wondered, than the wonder was worked, and I was wandering all by myself.

And then I was off - going from one thing to the next with no help from Mummy. I'm thinking of sacking her now, to save money!

What's going on here then?

Ever found that there are some things in life you never find the answer to? 

Raisins - RaiSINs?

All that pleasure from one tiny red box of sun-ripened goodnes. Can it be right? 

Swinging in the sun

Swinging in the sun, just swinging in the sun: what a glorious feelin'.

Or something like that.