Long weekend

Papers please!

It's been a long weekend, and not just for the bank holiday.

We dodged the bullet of total exhaustion on Saturday by driving into Ely to shop. On Sunday we took Arya to Treetops soft play, and I chased her around for an hour or so. She was completely in her element with the pneumotube, even recognising that the engine going quiet meant it was time to press the button or the plastic balls would just fall out again.

She had most fun invading the under 1's section (there was no-one in there, so it seemed no harm) and repeatedly wedging herself into a small chair, then wriggling free.

In the afternoon she got into my passport drawer and inspected my papers with the intensity of a Cold War border agent, but with slightly more chewing.

Monday was a pretty chilled day; floor picnic in front of the Cbeebies Prom (drop scones with bacon and maple syrup) and a day in. We went out in an attempt to get Arya to nap, which was a little fraught (she hates the rain cover on her pushchair, but it was just too miserable not to use it). As a sign of how foul the weather was, while she napped the monitor repeatedly cut from normal view to night vision.

Arya is learning to brush her teeth still (she tends to chew more than brushing, since we started her on a chew brush), but she knows that she brushes her teeth before bath. Saturday and Sunday she got into the bathroom, pointed at the brushes and said "Tee". On Monday she finished her dinner, passed me the plate, then pointed to her mouth and said "Tee". So smart.

I'm going to get to see less of her and Hannah once Hannah starts back at Uni, so I'm glad to have been able to make the most of this weekend, even if it has left me pretty shattered.

Travels with My Daughter

Arya prepares to draw on something. I don't
think she really cares what.

Arya is about seventeen months now, and quite well-traveled for her age. She's been to Scotland at least three times, to Leeds many and makes frequent visits to Norwich. For all that, she's not an especially comfortable or accomplished traveler, involving as travel does for her, the process of being strapped into a car seat for hours on end and probably visiting someone that her doting parents will want to talk to, possibly distracting for as much as several minutes from the absolute and dedicated adoration of her.

The horror!

Grandpa rocks out; Arya eats a satsuma.
Legs by Granny

It was with some trepidation, therefore, that we set out on this weekend's double journey to Norfolk, first to a birthday party for our friend Jess, where mutual friends quickly felt it wise to move Jess's ornaments to a higher shelf in order to be certain that Arya could not reach them.

Me: I would apologise for the havoc, but I don't as a matter of policy.
Jess: She's a baby.
Me: It's how she rolls. I figure people can suck it up or ask us to leave.
Jess: I can suck it up for that little face.

Arya watches cousin Sebby feed the
chickens

Jess is okay.

On Sunday, having been home for sleep (but not much, as we didn't get home, or certainly didn't get Arya down, until about 10), we went to see my parents. Arya and I spent the day with them, while Hannah saw friends in the city.

My parents live in the wilds of the county, where they keep chickens. For added fun, my brother and his family - including cousins Sebby and Teddy - were also visiting. We brought Arya's purple unicorn, her star bunny, her dolly and a couple of her historically questionable plastic ducks, and we still felt underprepared by comparison.

Arya watches the chickens be fed by
cousin Sebby

Arya was quite taken with cousin Sebby. She has a great affinity for children who look like they know where they're going, and followed him about quite a bit. In return, Teddy followed her, which would have been adorable if she weren't rolling about in a sit-in device the size and shape of a Dalek's travel skirt, which her parents called a walker but I think was more accurately defined as a tank.

Arya and an apple 

Of note was the fact that Arya was very taken with the pull-along helicopter. Being a V-Tech toy it made all kinds of noise, and complained bitterly if ignored, finishing with a snarky "Goodbye" if finally obliged to enter standby. We realised that Arya didn't have any pull-along toys of her own, although she's prepared to give it the old school try with anything, whether or not it's designed for the role.

She went out to the chicken run with Granny and Sebby, where they retrieved some eggs and fed the chickens some corn. Sebby was determined to give her a go, but she wasn't up for it. I'm rather glad really, as I was worried she might try to eat the corn. She'd already had a go at the LEGO. 

Checking the ingredients

We also picked apples from the orchard, and made some LEGO models by the time-honoured method of her bringing me pieces to put together and then pulling them apart if I got it 'wrong'. She's so judgey.

We got home earlier than on Saturday, but not early exactly.

Reading

Yesterday, I had work. Hannah met a friend in town for lunch and then came in to see me for tea. As it was by then four o'clock, I knocked off early to go home with them by car. We went via Boots for wipes (which was harder to do than it sounds), which Arya very much enjoyed reading the packet of (upside down, just so I wouldn't think she was even more precocious than I do already).

Arya & Duck

Hannah picked her up a new book, and her first pull-along toy, which she is so taken with that she tends to carry it everywhere, slightly defeating the purpose (the picture on the right shows a rare exception). we saw a lovely rainbow on the way home, but Arya was on the wrong side of the car to really notice.

This morning I had to put her in the car again. It was a bit of a struggle, and part of me didn't want to fight her since she was on her way back to Ipswich with Mummy. I will miss them both madly for the next few days.

For reference, I've been reviewing some of our shared viewing on my movie and TV blog, My Life as a Doge.

The Six Inch Rule

The six-inch rule is a traditional dictate for father's to hand down to their daughters: "Stay six inches from boys at all times." I plan to follow in this tradition when Arya is older. Once she starts getting interested in boys (or girls, amend pronouns below as appropriate), I will lay down a series of rules and explain the consequences, and hopefully then if she chooses to defy me it will be because the guy is worth it*.

Or I'll talk to her and try to keep her aware of the pros and cons of any given romantic situation. I may end up drawing her exes on eggshells for her to smash.

Either way, I may well remind her more than once of the six-inch rule, since she has started enforcing it on her parents. Mummy and Daddy must be a baby's width apart at all times (so that she can tuck in between us) and no sneaky petting behind her back either! We were sat on the sofa, Arya between us, my arm around Arya and my hand on Hannah's arm, and Arya gave me such a look.

**This is why.

It also doesn't matter if she's doing something else. She can be happily playing with her toys or walking up and down the passage with a truck, or setting up a little camp on the kitchen floor so she can post bottles of orange juice into a plastic elephant, in each case completely secure and contained in herself, but if Hannah and I try to kiss then she's on her feet, facing us and telling us 'no'.

If she's even a little tired, she may start crying just to push the point home.

I don't know why we put up with it**.






* I recognise that being 'worth it' in the eyes of a teenager is about the weakest form of qualification known to humanity before the advent of the online degree, but I have to try something.