Not another photo Dad!

Equal Opportunities

This photo is to prove that Mummy runs an Equal Opportunities household!

Baby Thermometer

Mummy asked me a while back how you check that the water in the bath is the right temperature.

My answer: put baby brother in and see if he squeals!

What we've been up to

In common with the rest of the world, baby brother developed an obsession with balls over the summer (or buhlululus as he calls them).

Baby brother also discovered the rasberry canes at the bottom of his garden. Here's me, helping him to help himself.

Cool huh?

So sweet!

Holiday snaps 2010

Older and inquisitiver

Its snow time!

The more observant amongst you might have noticed that we’ve had a few flakes of snow in our country in the last few weeks. Little brother and me have been making the most of it.

And here’s little brother on a solo flight – seems to be enjoying himself:

Here’s me with a pair of winter migrants taking a break on their journey to the North pole:

Growing into his highchair

Mummy bought Baby Brother a highchair last week. He was going to have used my old one, but the mice in the loft got hungry and ate part of it! I don't think they'll try that with this one though: it's got lions on it!

The eyes have it

Baby brother can't talk with his mouth yet, but his eyes do a pretty good job of saying what needs to be said. Here he is talking to a smile.

Daddy's fan club

No coercion was involved in making baby brother participate - honest!

Summer Holiday

Oh, I did like being by the seaside. So did baby brother ...

... when he wasn't asleep (which he was most of the time we were on the beach - except when he was feeding - which he was most of the time!)

Isn't he lovely?

Wanna-be blogger

Baby Sitter

I’m now a big sister!

I went to the hospital the other day. Guess who I went to see? My new baby brother.

Isn’t he cute!

I was a bit reluctant to hold him at first. The trouble is, you see, that whenever he cries my hands go to my ears, and I turn a bit pink. You can’t hold a baby when your hands are covering your ears.

I explained my strange behaviour to Daddy this morning. Babies can’t talk, so the only way they can tell us things is by crying. But decoding the cry is quite difficult, so I cover my ears up to help me think better. And I turn pink because pink rhymes with think!

More gratuitous cuteness:

Meet the Police Force's newest recruit:

My first job was to put myself under surveillance:


They're not going to lock me up in the back of the van are they?

I'm getting very behind with posting pictures, aren't I? I do apologise. Anyway, here's one of the birthday cake that Mummy made me for my birthday.

And here's me taking part in the May day celebrations:

Speaking ones mind for the good of society

It is the prerogative of every four-year-old girl to voice her thoughts, whatever the subject, in the presence of the subject, without the slightest embarrassment. I try to exercise that prerogative for the good of the whole of society.

On a walk to the park the other day, I saw a man coming towards us, puffing on a cigarette. I waited until he was within earshot, and then said, with as much disdain as I could muster,

“Oh Mummy! Keep away from that man who’s smoking”.

As he passed, and the fumes cleared, I suddenly remembered something Granny had told me the other day, and chuckled. Mummy looked at me quizzically.

“You were a silly girl when you were little, Mummy”, I explained. “You thought that smokesticks were called firesticks!”.

Who’s the cutest?

When, in other words

Yesterday morning I found a sweet lying around in Mummy and Daddy’s bedroom. I concluded it must have escaped from Daddy’s stash, looking for somebody nicer to be eaten by.

“Mummy, can I have this sweet?” I asked, yet without much hope; I could predict the answer.

“Not now – you haven’t had breakfast yet”, replies Mummy, right on cue.

“Then when can I have the sweet, Mummy”, I persist.

“Later, maybe”, she says.

“When later?”

“When I say so”

“But when, Mummy?”

“If you say ‘When, Mummy’ one more time, you won’t be having it all!”. Mummy thinks she’s had the last word.

So I let the matter rest. For, say, thirty seconds.

“At what moment may I have the sweet, Mummy?”