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).