The school fair

After music and shopping this morning, Pearl and I left the Dad to mow the lawns and look after the babes (one was sleeping, the other hurtling down the driveway on his trike fire-engine), and went to the school fair.

It was a stunning day, and the fair was clearly a roaring success.  The principal was bravely taunting the children lined up to have a go at him at the “Sponge a Teacher” stand (he was pretty wet already when we saw him; they teach good throwing skills at this school), the bouncy castle was full of happy littlies, and the whole place was humming with activity.

We found the craft section, and I picked up some very cheap fabric remnants suitable for my quilting stash.  Pearl bought herself a “fairy bag” for twice as much as all my fabric.  It was a sparkly bag tied with a bright ribbon, containing a bead necklace, “fairy dust” – sequins and sparkles, some shells and feathers.  Marketing genius.

We escaped the bookstall with remarkably little damage, grabbed some tomato plants, and browsed the “International Food Market” for lunch.

One of the great rewards of parenthood is re-discovering things that you’ve forgotten you didn’t always know.  I saw a sign and said, “Hey, Pearl, let’s get some candy-floss!”

She said, “Some what?”

“Candy-floss!”  (Cotton candy, for American readers, fairy-floss if you’re Australian)

“I don’t know what that is,” she said dubiously.  When I told her it was pink sugar made all fluffy, she was a whole lot more enthusiastic.  We got some – I lifted her up to see how it was made, as the woman spun it together for us – and shared it.  I hadn’t had candy-floss in years, and it was better than I remembered.  Pearl found it heady stuff and didn’t really want very much, although she did enjoy what she had.

As we walked off, I heard another mother say, “Let’s get some candy-floss!”

Her seven-year-old replied, “What’s that?”

Strawberries

We went to our next-door-neighbours’ place for a barbecue tonight.  It was lovely: the weather was perfect, the people are great, there were lots of other children there, and the food was fantastic.  I tried out asparagus wrapped in ham with home-made chilli-and-capsicum jelly, and it was deeeelicious.  Nice to see the food you brought to the party disappear so quickly.

Some of the other food we took also disappeared rather quickly.  Strawberries are about as cheap as they’re going to get at the moment, so I took along two punnets and a tub of chocolate dip.  My children aren’t interested in the chocolate dip (although, come to think of it, Fainjin would probably drink it if he figured out what it was), but the girls love their strawberries.

Pearl just helped herself, re-visiting the strawberry bowl I don’t know how many times, quietly and happily consuming several.  Babess, stuck in the push-chair, waved imperiously and called out, “Mummy!  Me me me!” whenever I was within arm’s reach of the berries.  I gave her one and watched her demolish it with great glee.  She would have eaten the green top as well, but I rescued it, and gave her another whole strawberry.

Then I got distracted, talking to one of our neighbours for a little while.  Babess was quiet for quite a while, and I just assumed she was still eating that strawberry (without really thinking about it).  Until I saw Fainjin taking her one.  He won’t eat them himself, but he’ll feed them to his baby sister.  Quite sweet of him, really.  She was beaming at him, and he was gazing fondly back.

So I don’t know how many she ate, either.  But there are worse things for them to overindulge in.

 

Haircuts

I had intended to have the younger two children’s hair cut about three weeks ago, but various illnesses and other events overtook us.  So Fainjin, in particular, has been looking pretty shaggy.  Babess was fine in front, but would get dreadlocks at the back, her hair is so fine and tangles so easily.

We took them both to the hairdresser today.  It’s theoretically possible for me to cut their hair, but much easier for me to hold them still and someone else to cut it.  Fainjin was wonderfully well-behaved this time, and as a reward did not come home with one long lock sitting in front of his left ear.  He looks like a little boy again, instead of a red English Sheepdog.

Babess had never had her hair cut before.  I’ve been waiting a long time for this – the other two had both had their first haircut by the age of 4 months, but Babess just didn’t have enough hair.  She was very interested in the whole process, so I ended up standing her up in my lap, to look over my shoulder at the mirror.  That way she could see what the hairdresser was doing, without tying herself in knots.  It didn’t keep her very still, but still enough for what the hairdresser called a “snatch and grab” at the long bits at the back.

She looks a bit neater, and I have some snips for the baby book and to send to Grandma.

Just this once

Usually, when the phone rings during the day, it’s a member of my family calling.  Which is just as well, really.

While I’m chatting, Fainjin will come up and wrap himself around my legs or climb into my lap, and decide who he wants to talk to.  And that is usually not the person whom I am talking to.  “I say hello Nana!” he’ll declare, and I reply, “It’s not Nana, it’s Auntie B.  Do you want to say hello to Auntie B?”  Who am I kidding?  He’s made his decision.  “Not Auntie B!  Is NANA!  Not Auntie B!  Auntie B finished! Fainjin say hello NANA.”

Usually I move away and continue the conversation.  It does get a bit awkward if I’m talking to a tradesman or similar, with him loudly insisting that he should say hello, but the payoff is when telemarketers call.  They can hear that I’m “too busy” and “it’s not a good time”.  I tend not to move away from him when they call.

Tonight, though, I resorted to a new solution.  I was talking to his Nana, and he smiled sweetly, climbed into my lap, and said, “Fainjin say hello Gweat-Gwan?”  I told him it was Nana, and got the usual response, but instead of arguing, I said, “Fine.  Mum, you’re Great-Gran.  Say hello!”  She played along, and he was stunned into silence.

I win.

Here comes trouble

Babess is walking for real now.  She still drops to knee-walking every so often, and crawls if she wants to speed away from me (giggling all the way), but she has clearly decided that walking is the best way to get around.  Now she will need real shoes, I suppose.  She only fits size “0-6 months”, I wonder whether they make those for walking babies?

I’m thanking my lucky stars that she’s so small.  It’ll still be ages before she can reach the door handles!

Genetics (guest post by The Dad)

The town we were visiting has a huge park, with formal gardens, native forest, walking paths,  lakes, playgrounds,  and a small zoo.  To get Pearl and Fainjin properly worn out so they might sleep well, I took them there for the afternoon.

We started at the zoo, which includes a playground, and spent quite a while there trying all the equipment, looking at the animals, and chasing ducks.  Then we relocated to another playground, which has a very cool curved slide down an embankment, and eventually went for a walk around one of the lakes, ending up at a pavilion with a cafe and kiosk.

Pearl was insisting that she was hungry and thirsty, and thought a milkshake would alleviate both problems, while Fainjin made no demands but instead planted himself on a park bench with the contented expression of one who knows a treat is imminent.  I got him an ice-cream cone, well aware that he had inherited my inability to eat these without profuse dripping, and armed myself with a handful of napkins to deal with the inevitable mess.  Pearl delivered Fainjin’s treat, which he took politely, and sat beside him and inhaled her milkshake.

Fainjin happily sat in the sun for the next half-hour, regularly licking his ice-cream, and between licks looking placidly at the lake and the ducks, unconcerned about the progressively more liquid state of his ice-cream, while I replaced napkins in his lap as needed.  Families came and went, buying their ice-creams, finishing them off without mess, and wandering on.  When Fainjin was nearly down to the level of the cone, I asked, “Are you finished now, Fainjin?”  He replied impassively,  “No. Eating.”

He continued until the ice-cream was too far inside the cone for him to reach, as he doesn’t eat cones, then handed it to me and said “‘inished.”  I grabbed another handful of napkins, cleaned him up as much as was possible without resorting to full immersion in the lake, and we headed back to the car.

Gran’s chair

We have been visiting my Gran.  In her room is an electric recliner, with a control which lowers the back, raises the footrest, and generally moves it every-which-way.  The children quickly discovered this theme-park ride (possibly encouraged by their grandfather, who shares their fascination and glee – thanks, Dad!) and it has become a major attraction every time we pop in to visit.

Fainjin usually seizes the controls, and gives the girls “rides”, sometimes climbing on with them – while still holding firm to the controls – and sharing the fun.  Gran doesn’t mind, and it keeps them happy and occupied so we can chat with her.

This evening, I was going over to see her and say goodnight, and leaving the children and their Dad behind to get dinner and start going to bed.  I grabbed my handbag, and turned around to find Fainjin in tears.  “I see Gweat-Gwan!”, he sobbed.  “Fainjin come too!  I see Gweat-Gwan!”

He was inconsolable, and I left him wriggling in his father’s arms.  Gran and I had a good giggle when I told her – she has no illusions about a two-year-old choosing to come see her when the allure of The Chair is plain!

Chug-achug-a

We took the children down to the waterfront, anxiously checking our watches.  There was still time.  People were gathering in loose knots, all looking in one direction.  We wandered along the grass, finding a little play area.  Pearl and Fainjin largely ignored the climbing wall and jungle-gym in favour of going “roly-poly” down the bank.  Babess giggled and jiggled while she watched them.

We checked our watches again.  Other people were muttering.  Someone walking past said “It’ll be here any minute”.  Five minutes later, cold, I said “Let’s walk – slowly – back to the car”.  We turned in that direction, and immediately saw the tell-tale puff of smoke.

“Look kids!  Here it comes!” we pointed.  The steam train puffed along the track, tooting as it came, in true story-book style.  We stood at the top of our little bank, a short distance from the track, and waved at the passengers, most of whom waved back.  And then the train stopped, right in front of us, to let them all off.  We walked up and had a good look at the engine, which – to our surprise – is the same brand as our refrigerator.

Babess beamed.  “Choo choo!” she said.

Apple

On holiday, we were with friends for dinner.  They have children a little older than Pearl, and in the way of children, the three of them quickly became firm friends.  After dinner, I whisked our younger two “home” for baths and bed, but Pearl and her Dad stayed a bit later to socialise.

It gets dark earlier there than we are used to, and Pearl relished the novelty of playing outside in the warm darkness.  Initially the children were occupied trying to build a cubby house out of fallen palm leaves, but they soon armed themselves with torches and went looking for bats.

They saw several, and Pearl was thrilled.  It was all so exotic and exciting, one of those magical childhood experiences where you get to play in a new place, with new friends, in the dark, and perhaps forget for a little while that you even have parents who tend to cramp your style.  She arrived back at our accommodation slightly wild-eyed, bubbling over to tell me what she’d got up to and what she’d learnt and how wonderful bats are.  Even as I had to hush her, lest she wake the babes, I was hoping that this would be an evening she would remember for the rest of her life.

A few days later, we found a bat glove puppet in a store, and bought it for her.  She immediately dubbed it “Apple”.  It’s a fruit bat.

Shock horror!

It’s been pretty hot, and today we went to visit people who have a pool.  We talked it up to the kids, persuading them all into an early-afternoon rest and/or nap before heading to the barbecue where they could go swimming!

Pearl had a ball in the water, we had to drag her out of it to eat in the end.  She made friends with some other girls who were there, and they were instantly inseparable.

Fainjin, on the other hand, was very keen on the idea of swimming.  We got him changed into his togs (swimwear) – a very cute swim-tshirt with matching shorts (over a swim-nappy) and hat, and he scampered over to the pool.  He loved the fact that there were balls and other toys floating around.  His Dad, who was in the water, helped him down into the pool.  He stood there, chest-deep, and his eyes and mouth went round in horror.

“I’m all wet!  It’s wet!  I wanna get OUT!”

And that was that.  Swim over.