Ersatz Vacation

Arya is developing expensive tastes.

It's been too long since I updated here, and I've neglected to write up our November vacation, so here goes.

Towards the end of November, we took a family holiday; the first since Alton Towers a ways back (August 2015.) Hanna booked a holiday house near Weston-super-Mare(1), and we drove down on Thursday to return on the following Monday. We had planned to visit Cheddar Gorge on the way down, but traffic and the need to stop for food and toilet breaks meant that we opted to go straight on the to the house, which was gorgeous. We fell head over heels with the kitchen and the book nook on the landing, while Arya was instantly taken with the bunk beds (although she ultimately couldn't sleep in the top bunk) and the piano.

Pillar!

On Friday, we made the arduous, ninety second walk to the beach - did I mention, the house backed onto a beach? - where we drew in the sand and Arya collected shells. Then we drove over to Glastonbury, where in keeping with my personal traditions, it proved way too much of a faff to go up the Tor, so we contented ourselves with visiting the Abbey and some of the shops. At the Abbey we had a picnic lunch, and then walked around the grounds. Mummy and Arya developed a new game called 'be a pillar,' in which we stood in the site of the former nave, where the supporting pillars used to be, and held our arms up to support an imaginary roof. Now we have to fling our arms up every time someone calls 'be a pillar!'

Following a rash promise I'd made, we then trawled the shops looking for a box in which Arya could keep her treasures, including but not limited to those squashed penny souvenirs you can get where you turn a wheel and press an image into a coin of the realm, a handful of shells, and the necklace off a Moana magazine we'd bought her for the journey. This proved much more difficult than I'd expected, but we were able to find a suitable musical box and, despite the day getting long and Arya getting tired and fractious, to persuade her not to wind it constantly in the car on the way back to the house.

It may seem a bit of a cop out for a family holiday activity, but on Saturday we went into Weston-super-Mare to see Olaf's Frozen Adventure at the cinema. It lacked the musical excellence of Frozen, or even of Frozen Fever, but was more substantial than the latter and we enjoyed the story and the humour. Arya was particularly impressed by Sven's attempts to communicate Olaf's plight to the uncharacteristically clueless Kristoff.

By the way(2).

After that we watched Frozen, had some lunch, headed back to the House. We had an evening walk on the beach before bedtime and played some My Little Pony Monopoly. While dinner was being prepared, she worked out a new dance, which involved something rather like the twist, and a lot of leaping onto sofas.

After a couple of rocky evenings in various beds - and a tense bath as I tried to get her hair washed and she resisted - Arya opted to make a little nest in the window seat looking out from the master bedroom into the conservatory. Here, she went off surprisingly quickly, and I'm not going to downplay this, she looked totes adorbs(3).

So worth it.

I took a risk and used the flash to get a picture of her in her curtained enclosure. I think it was worth it.

On Sunday, we headed into Wales across the Severn Bridge - our first visit to another country, albeit part of the same state, at least for now - since Scotland in June 2014. Arya was unimpressed by the hills, despite being a Flatlander girl by birth, so we swung on towards Caerphilly(4), home of the cheese and of Tommy Cooper(5). Our plan was to meet up with some friends of Hanna's and then stroll around Caerphilly Castle. There was a treasure hunt for children, which Arya got very into, which involved locating sites shown on a map of the castle and identifying which of two 'treasures' had been hidden there by wicked Hugh le Dispenser. That gave a series of numbers which, added up, gave a grid reference for a final treasure.

Also, there were dragons. That was pretty cool.

We toured the castle, admiring the leaning (read, collapsing) tower and the big, wooden dude trying to hold it up, as well as the views from walls and towers. We learned a bit about the history of the castle, and a lot about what a toerag Hugh le Despenser was. Seriously, Caerphilly is not a fan of Edward II's favourite. There was a lot to see, and Arya was pretty worn out by the end of it, so she stayed in the relative warmth of the Great Hall - it was a bitterly cold day - while I took her scarf as a sign of favour and quested for the final treasure on her behalf.

Here there be dragons. Also an Arya.

This won for her a fridge magnet, with which she was thoroughly unimpressed, and since I kind of agreed that it was a little underwhelming (although free, so can't really complain,) I got her a little dragon in a cage to be her souvenir for the day.

Once we got back to the house with the inevitable haul of cheese - and a handmade, local, fairy Christmas tree ornament - the dragon went into the treasure box. Once again, Arya went to sleep wonderfully in her curtained alcove. We're thinking about getting her one for the flat.

Hanna had promised to take Arya for a walk on the beach in the morning, so it was a bit disappointing that we woke up to the heavy rain that had come on each night showing little sign of stopping.

What else is a map for?

But then it did. The sun came out, and we had one more walk on the beach. Arya drew a map in the sand. Hanna asked what it was a map of and Arya replied 'it's to find treasure. I hid a 5p piece in the sand. Arya found it and was chuffed beyond all good sense. Then it was time to go home.

This time, we did stop at Cheddar Gorge, where we bought some Cheddar and a stuffed rabbit in a ballet dress for Arya. She almost didn't get that, due to a dispute about the virtues, or lack thereof, of mass-produced tat, and the soul-consuming quality of Ty toys with their terrible, terrible eyes. We also marveled at cliffs, and got another squashy penny for the collection.

Wells, wells, wells.

Our last port of call was Wells Cathedral, a building remarkable for the plainness of its interior, a trait I personally ascribe to the fact that some genius put all of the statues - and I do mean all of the statues - on the outside. It also has the oldest working clock with its original face, complete with moving figures every quarter hour. It also had a quiz for children which we helped Arya to complete, and again I bought her a little something when the prize proved underwhelming. I understand that Cathedrals cost a lot to run and that the quiz is free, but Arya just knows she put in time and had to listen to things.

We left Wells after the three o'clock chimes and hit the road, poorer by a pound and richer by another squashy penny, stopping only for a Macdonald's and to change Arya into her pajamas. After she - and I - were asleep, we hit a snag as the roads from Cambridge to Littleport all seemed to be diverting to each other, but in the end we made it home and fell into bed.

It was an exhausting long weekend, but something that we all needed. We'd definitely be up for a return trip to the same house, maybe even in a more hospitable month and perhaps with another couple of people to defray costs. It would also be nice to take a bit longer, get into Wales a little more, and take an extra chill day in the middle somewhere.

I'll leave you with a few more photos that I didn't have room for in the main body of the post.

Piano

Doors!

Gotcha!

Gorge.

(1) Direct descendant of Champion the Wonder Horse.
(2) Maybe two of my readers will get that.
(3) Like, unironically use the phrase 'totes adorbs' levels of adorableness.
(4) I was very good and only made two or four plays on Caerphilly/carefully, all of them marvellously subtle.
(5) As we learned thanks to the plaque on his GIANT GOLDEN STATUE.

Gratulation

Yesterday, we took Arya to Ipswich for Mummy’s graduation or, as Arya would have it, gratulation(1).

Hanna was very anxious about the whole thing, not just because of the formality and the having to go on stage in front of strangers, or because our old friend imposter syndrome is still telling her that she doesn’t deserve to have a degree at all, but because the part of her that recognises her own worth is still mad as hell that the midwifery students got a mismanaged course, little-to-no support, and that she in particular was screwed over by their refusal to offer any flexibility on her deliveries(2), thus capping her practice grades and losing her a deserved high 2:1 or even a first.

We ate lunch in the car, which Arya thought was the best thing ever, showering herself with bits of cheese and crackers while Hanna and I rued the choice of a crusty giraffe baguette over some other, less crumbly bread. We picked up Daddy Andrew, who explained that some of his work colleagues would like to meet Arya and asked if she wanted to come up to the office. She said no, so that was that and we went on into town. At the town hall, where the ceremony was to be held, Hanna went to collect her gown and hood, while we took Arya to get changed out of her school uniform, then we met up to get photos taken.

It took a little time to find the booking, because it was in Hanna’s name, but I was down as the delivery point. Once that was done, we went through and were offered a choice of a plain, silver-grey background or a library background with bookshelves and a carriage clock. Hanna was leaning towards plain, but Arya ran to the library scene with a look of pure wonder. She consented to stand to one side while Hanna had her solo shot, then dashed in for a two-shot, with both of them holding prop certificates, before finishing off with some family groups.

The hall was hot and crowded, and I’d forgotten all of Arya’s snacks and drinks in the car but fortunately we were able to grab some popcorn from Boots and one of the ushers got Arya a glass of water. Then she played games on Mummy’s phone while we got through the speeches and other graduands before Hanna, who was as it happened the very last to be called up, having the last initial in the last category (MSc Hons in Midwifery.) At last, the faculty processed in at what I can only call an amble.

First up were the speeches, including the aptly-named Pro-Chancellor(3) telling us how ‘we do things differently’ at UniSuffolk(4), a speech I found it hard to take seriously knowing that the newly-minted university was voted the worst in the country by NUS members. She explained that they were a ‘community impact university,’ which I took to mean their students went out, got lashed and picked fights with the townies on a regular basis. Apparently what it means is that they measure their success by the impact on the quality of life of the people and communities their graduates go on to work with, rather than the physical, mental and emotional well-being of their students.

Honestly, I was just shocked at the lack of Latin and the barbaric laxity of allowing people to sit down during a graduation ceremony.

Next was the awarding of an honorary(5) doctorate to Esther Freud for her contributions to literature and service in battle against the Cybermen, and I kind of want an honorary doctorate just because the robes were so very bitching. At last, they started calling up the graduands – one at a time, like the presenting proctor didn’t have four perfectly good fingers, and with all the degree types announced – declaring every name like savages and with still not a whisper of Latin or the vaguest gesture of a kneel. How they can call this graduation I do not know(6). Meanwhile the audience cheered and clapped and whooped. You could tell who’d been popular and who had lots of fam in the audience. I wish I’d made more noise for Hanna, but I didn’t want to startle Arya, who was clapping away, proud as anything(8). 

Then one of the nursing students offered a vote of thanks for all the support that the University had given, while neglecting to consider the midwifery course at all... much like the University did. Then the graduates processed out. As the last in line, Hanna was the last to process out, which meant at least that she was able to hear Arya calling as she waved to her.

We met Hanna outside, took a few simple shots with her and Arya, and printed one out at a photo place for Arya to take to school. Then we headed off for a celebratory meal at Mrs Miggins’ Pie Shop(9). Arya was a bit disappointed that we wouldn’t be having another car picnic, but did really well on her dinner. Also notable, when we got to the restaurant we asked if she needed the toilet. She said no, but then added ‘but maybe I should try.’

It was a long day, and Arya was plum tuckered out by the time we dropped Daddy Andrew off, but she was absolutely fabulous. We had one fuss about having her hair re-brushed for photos, and otherwise she was a star, totally accepting that a) this was Mummy’s day, but b) that we still adored her. She was also visibly and vocally pleased to see Daddy Andrew, who all too often ends up butting heads with her when he’s around.

(1) Which is an awesome term.

(2) The EU directives under which the course still operates ask for 40 normal births or, in exceptional circumstances – such as, say, losing a dozen births due to a transfer from another, better university, or straight up bad luck in experiencing an unusual number of non-normal births – 30 plus 20 non-normal births. The University of Suffolk flat out refused to discuss the circumstances because ‘we don’t do that here.’ A fine sentiment vis a vis casual misogyny and ‘locker room talk’, but not so much when it means downgrading someone who will be going into practice with a vastly above average practical understanding of obstetric emergencies.

(3) It was a struggle not to offer running commentary in the unofficial role of ‘Con-Chancellor’.

(4) They don’t show any flexibility, even in accordance with EU directives, for starters.

(5) I’m never sure if ‘honourary’ is acceptable, and have now spent so long checking that neither looks like anything but a pseudoword, which is easily the greatest concept that Arya has brought home from school.

(6) When I graduated, I was presented in Latin while holding a finger, knelt in front of the Vice-Chancellor, who clasped my hands and Latined some more, before I was chucked out into an alley behind the Senate House to receive a certificate(7) confirming I had received the degree of Bachelor of Arts in going to Cambridge.

(7) And that only as proof to anyone gauche enough to doubt my word that I had a degree from Cambridge.

(8) And only for Mummy, because she loves Mummy.

(9) Actually a Harvester.

Fear of the Aardvark

The fear was that they would never wake up. ION, my phone is not made for
night photography.

On Saturday, we took Arya to Colchester for one of the zoo's late-opening Starlight Safari days, with the intention of seeing the aardvarks up and about. She has seen them before, but she was just with Mummy at the time and was apparently beside herself because she knows I like the aardvarks(1).

So, the day started well. I had to go to physio for my back, and when Daddy Andrew tried to bring Arya into Ely on the train for ballet, the train was cancelled. Thankfully, they were offered a lift by a kind fellow traveler(2), and despite Andrew misremembering the start time, we got Arya into ballet just a little late, after I ran into them on my way out of Boots with a new box of sweet, sweet co-codamol. Then tea cup ride, bus, and Gymbobs, where Arya had a good run around waiting for the session to start and managed to apparently misplace Andrew.

Me: Arya, where's Daddy Andrew?
Arya: He went outside.
Me: Yes, but he hasn't come back.
Arya: I didn't magically make him to be dead.
Me: Wow. That's dark. And oddly specific.

New dress.

After Gymbobs we changed her into her new dress (which she chose herself) and Mummy came and picked us up, fresh and bright from her five or six hours sleep in the preceding 72 hours. There then followed a long drive, a minor meltdown over the wrong coat, and it looked like we were going to have a properly horrible day. Hanna split off to make some enquiries at the office regarding pass renewal, and we didn't really make good plans to meet up again.

We saw some lemurs and leopards, and some coati being hella adorbs in the amphitheatre, and checked on the currently somnolent aardvarks. Andrew went to find Hanna, leaving me with all the bags while Arya played in one of the playgrounds. I heard them announce a late giraffe feeding, but before I could collect Arya, I saw her trip and fall, and when I got to her she was bleeding from the mouth.

Worst. Dad. Ever.

Found a member of staff who got us an ice pack and some towels, then I sat Arya down with a soothing ice cream while I flailed to contact Hanna and Andrew. Good news, the bleeding stopped quickly and helped her to calm down enough to stop crying; poor thing was in a right state, understandably enough. Bad news, no signal at all. Fortunately, I spotted Andrew and was able to flag him down and he and Hanna came over, having been looking for us at the giraffe feeding.

Arya complained of an owy tummy and we got a proper first aider in, and considered the possibilities that walk in centres and A&E presented, but ultimately decided that the tummy was probably a result of the upset and not a cause, so dragging her out pre-Aardvark would be a retrograde step. Not that this stopped us worrying, and wondering if each time she got tired and floppy she wasn't lapsing into a set of symptoms that the doctors would note with the shorthand 'terrible parents.'

But she seemed lively enough, and took me to see the bears, including an extended rendition of 'we're going on a poo hunt,' a variation introduced in the TV adaptation of We're Going on a Bear Hunt, so thanks for that, Channel 4.

Next, we went to catch the little train. The green lighting in the waiting area made us look green. "We're turning green!" I cried, showing Arya my hand. "It's just the green lights," she assured me sagely.

The train took us past the oddly abandoned wolf habitat, as well as past the jackals and hunting dogs, to the lemur encounter. Arya didn't fancy walking with lemurs, so we sat and watched the youngsters being adorable and ring-tailed. I got out to stretch my back, and Arya, bless her,was really worried the train would pull away without me. On the way back, all three wolves were out for the first time in three days. My own theory is that they just got Netflix and had been binge watching Marvel series and Stranger Things, and had emerged because they'd got two episodes into Iron Fist and needed some air.

It was getting late, so we tried the aardvarks again - still asleep - before getting some dinner. With Arya quite determined to see active aardvarks, we checked in on them - still asleep - then stayed for the torchlit sealion feed, and Arya named all of the sealions while we waited(3). The sealions were basically circling and occasionally harmonising with the Jean Michelle Jarre - for whatever reason, the sealions always have music, and being Patagonian instead of California sealions they don't so much bark as do a short version of that bass vocalisation that the Ur-ra do in The Dark Crystal.

I tried to get a shot of Arya and the Aardvarks, but they ducked past her and
out of shot.

Finally, we went back to the Aardvarks and they were up and about; well, two of them, at least. Anyway, that was rewarding, and even overrode Arya's pressing need to avail herself of the smell-o-rama hatch again.

And then we went home, by way of the dub-step giraffe, a quick chivvy through the gift shop, a tantrum over the Tinkerbellness of her nappies and a quick stop to buy Calpol (and replacement nappies, because life's too short.)

Sunday was an idle day, unsurprisingly.

(1) Before she had the word 'aardvark' down, they were 'the amamals that Daddy likes.'
(2) In the commuting, rather than the espionage sense.
(3) Skye, Marshall, James, Tom and whoever the other one was.

Birthdaypalooza

School. No, seriously.

Today was Arya's first day of school, so... that's a thing. She was pretty super about it, and her new teacher seems to think she's the bee's knees, although she has a serious hatred of her blazer(1).

But I'm not going to talk about school yet. I want to talk about birthdays, because everyone seems to be having them.

Right before the summer, Arya's BFF(oalfn)(2) Amiya had her birthday party at the local soft play, and we gave out some invites. We had to miss Sebbie's party, because Hanna was working and it was in the middle of nowhere, but then Arya had her party at the end of August.

Although she was keen on a soft play party after Amiya's do, we organised a party at Build-a-Bear Workshop(3), because it seemed like a way not to have to do too much organising. Hanna's parents covered a lot of the cost, and we booked into the Cambridge store for what we began to realise after Arya wanted to do a second round of invites could be up to thirteen children. In the end there were, I think, eight, and some siblings, and a riotous time was had be all as they had the run of the shop before opening time, played with the made-up toys on roller skates, chose and stuffed their bears, made wishes for themselves and for Arya(4), and bopped around to the same thirty seconds of 'Get Back Up Again', the catchiest of the tunes from Dreamworks' Trolls, over and over, having worked out how to make the sound station work. It could have been terrible, but the lass in the shop was clearly trained for this stuff, and while they hadn't all paid by the time the doors opened to the general public, they were mostly in the queue.

Adorbs.

After the bears, we went for lunch at Wagamama's, where the staff happily wrangled our charging crew, although they did put us right by the easiest gap for small children to dash for the stairs unseen through. Feedback on the day has been overwhelmingly positive, and it feels like there's a pretty big expectation to meet next year, especially given we were pretty much planning next year to be three friends for a homecooked meal and pin the tale on the affordably priced donkey. On balance, we're glad that everyone had a good time. It's just a bit of a tough act to follow.

So, that was two parties in the space of a month and... wait, there's more?

Love him and hug him and call him George
(she's actually called Lady.)

The day after Arya's party it was her friend Saul's, which was just down the road from us. Yay! I checked out early, leaving Andrew to bring Arya back, but she seems to have had a good time and she came back with a party bag including an Incredible Hulk Lego figure, which she was made up about. She decided he was lonely though, so he's now hanging out with Lord Voldemort from Lego Dimensions, because that's a buddy comedy that can only end brilliantly.

And then yesterday - was it really only yesterday? - was Chloe's birthday, on a farm. There was feeding sheep and goats - Arya got nervous and tossed food at them - and petting Rex rabbits and bearded dragons. Arya was mightily taken with the rabbit, but less so with the corn snakes, and had a grand time. Sadly, Chloe and Saul were both in Nursery 1 going on Nursery 2, so won't be in Reception with Arya, but hopefully we can keep in touch.

Anyway, that was the festival of birthdays, and the end of the school holiday. Next stop, Reception.

(1) In fairness, I probably would have felt the same about a school blazer. I still feel that way about suit jackets.
(2) Best Friend Forever (or a least for now.)
(3) This was her second party, having been ill for her actual birthday party.
(4) I wished for her to deal well with being handed a fistful of wishes.

Scenes from my family

"Wonder Arya!"
"No! It's Wonder Woman."
"Right you are, Arya. Silly of me to forget."

Arya is putting minifigures on the Lego Dimensions board, looking for Voldemort.

Me: "Who's that?"
Arya:" It's Wonder Woman! You remember. She's got her loop-de-hoop."

I'm not sure which is more adorable. Calling the Lasso of Truth/Lariat of Hestia a 'loop-de-hoop', or the fact that she assumed I was asking because I'd forgotten.

-

Bedtime.

Arya: Cuddle, Daddy.
<cuddles ensue>
Me: Now lie down and sleep, lovely.
Arya: But this is for you, Daddy. You looked down. You looked blue. And I don't like you being sad.

-

In the shop, after being told she isn't allowed treats because she's becoming spoiled.

Arya: Cakes are treats.
Me: Which means we aren't getting any, Arya.
Arya: I know. I was just saying that we can't buy any cakes.

-

The Doctor Machine:

Arya, climbing on Daddy's chest: I'm the Doctor who's coming to kill you. It's a game!
Me: What game?
Arya: The Furchester game with the Doctor Machine.
Me: What game is this? I want to see it. I may need to write to Cbeebies.

-

Arya came up to Mummy while she was watching the SDCC Ragnarok trailer. She caught a bit and was excited. 

"Hulk!" she exclaimed, because she's always been a bit of a fan. I told her that Hulk in the gladiator armour was 'angry Hulk', so she decided that without he was 'proper Hulk.' Then we got to the end and she laughed delightedly.

"I didn't know he could *talk*!"

Just for the record, we have never sat down and talked about the Hulk with Arya. We've never watched any Hulk with her until this (afterwards, she watched The Incredible Hulk with Mummy and Daddy Andrew.) Yet she's known for years who Hulk is, and what he does (smash.)

Breakfast with Arya

She's a bear without her morning coffee(1).

Me: Arya, come on; we need to hurry because it took you thirty minutes to eat *three piece of cereal.*
Arya: (utterly aggrieved) I didn't!
<beat>
I ate *four*.
Me: I love you.

*

Me: Chocolate stars?
Arya: Can I have eggs after? Scrambled eggs?
Me: No, Arya. It's much too late for that. We have to get going and... Was that a joke?
Arya: Yes!
Me: Points for effort definitely.
Arya: I'm funny!
Me: Well, you certainly think so. You get that from your dad. Both of us.

(1) Just... before abyone calls social services, it was 4 in the afternoon and it's a child's hot chocolate in a large cup.

Mr Squeakums, the Genderfluid Mouse

A couple of scenes I'm not sure I wrote up here.

Arya: I'm not sure if Mousie(1) is a boy or a girl.
Me: Well *Mr* Squeakums(2) would usually suggest male, but what do you think.
Arya: I think 'she'.
Me: <nods> Although you definitely said he yesterday. Do you think she'll always be female now, or sometimes she and sometimes he?
Arya: Sometimes he.
Me: When she... Or when *he* feels like it?
Arya: Yes.
Me: Mr Squeakums is genderfluid. Awesome.

*

Arya: I hope our train comes fast, because I want to go to nursery because I have Mousie*.
Me: You hear that, Mousie? You're a good influence.
Arya: How dare you say that?

*

A talk was had with Arya after a second viewing of Beauty and the Beast and she found Le Fou dancing with another man amusing.

I told her that some boys like to dance with other boys, and that's okay. It's not a joke, and in fact it's rather lovely to see in the film, because for so long boys have been told that they can't dance with boys. In fact, I told her, you can dance with whoever you like.

Arya: So it could be a boy and a girl?
Me: Or a boy and a boy.
Arya: Or a girl and a girl!

So I think she got it.

And of course, I reminded her that the one thing that is really important is that they want to dance with you as well.

*

Me: Arya; just one squeeze of soap.
<Arya takes four>
Me: Arya...
Arya: Why I take four is because I'm four years old.
Me: Yes, but you only need one.
Arya: Would you do me four of the other soap*.
Me: Why would I do that?
Arya: Because you're my dad and you're lovely.
Me: Darn your logic!

(1) A small, knitted muse that her Aunt Sadie made for her.

(2) Mr Squeakums is Mousie's usual name.

Another first!

Serious Arya is serious.

This morning, Arya did her first proper bed wetting.

I doubt she'll thank me for putting this in the blog, but it was quite the red letter day. Daddy and Daddy failed to get her into a nappy last night, and so she wet the bed when she had an accident without padding... at half past six this morning.

So, having managed to go the entire night without an accident, she called me in and we got her undressed, cleaned up and into bed with Mummy, and stripped off the bedclothes for washing, with really no fuss whatsoever. I am so proud of my little girl today.

No pictures of the event in progress, of course, but here's one of her looking especially grown up and serious.

Snippets

Arya 'copes' with mornings.

It's been a while since I posted here, in part because as a full-time ersatz I don't have the same structure; partly because I take fewer photos as a full-timer and thus post snippets to Facebook, where I am reluctant to post too many pictures. So, here's a bit of a digest:

The other day, Arya and I were walking to school. Arya ignored my pointed hints about how it would be super helpful if someone were to carry their own bag, but then suggested we use the gate that only has one handle on it, because that would be easier with my hands full. Spontaneous empathy FTW.

Bath time:

Arya (fills a cup with pink, bubbly bath water): "Here, Daddy. Drink this. It will make you poorly."
Me: "You're not selling this, Arya."

Wicked witch is apparently on her career plan still. (I told her she was bringing the religion into disrepute; she laughed.)

Rosie Revere, Engineer became the latest book to be resisted for days with insistence that she didn't/wouldn't like it, only for it to become a firm favourite once she'd actually heard it.

Enjoying the original Rapunzel, we agreed that just bringing a rope would have been much more useful than bringing a ball of silk a night to weave a ladder from. I mean, he's a Prince; he has a horse, and people.

Full-Time Ersatz

It's really starting to hit home what a full-time job parenting is.

It's summer, it's hot, it's light from Oh-My-Life in the morning to What-the-Heck at night, everyone's tired, and it doesn't stop. Of course it doesn't, I hear you say, but knowing that is't the same as knowing it, which isn't the same as Arya calling pitiously for you at four in the morning.

Right now, Empire has messed up her sleep patterns (10 o'clock last night,) and everyone is tired. Arya is pushing Hanna's buttons and I'm fraying badly at the edges. I had a weekend on my own to recoup some spoons, but in the end it seems to have spoiled me and now I'm twitching about sharing my space again. And then everything went wrong this morning - my fault; I should have made sure she was up instead of having a shower - but I still have to go and get her this evening, and attend her transition evening before we can bus home and I try to get her to sleep nicely at 8ish.

And yet...

We got into school this morning, late, but we got there, and she ran to hug one of her teachers, then back to hug me, and all the stress and the grief was just... nothing.

So yeah; it never ends, but I never wonder why I'm doing it. She's why. She's all the why.

Ch-ch-changes

Well metal.

It's been a while, in part because... Well, it's been a tough couple of weeks. Arya has had some major tantrums, and we've all been tired so we've not dealt with them as well as we could have done. We know that we need to be better, and so we are taking steps, including backing off sometimes and maybe just letting her scream for a while.

On the upside, Hanna is now officially employed as a midwife at the Rosie, which is awesome, and means that this week I need to take Arya to school by foot and train.

On Monday, this actually went well. I got her in by 8.10 on an eight o'clock target.

On Tuesday... Not so much. Arya decided that she wanted an ice lolly, despite it being freezing cold and the morning (because we have ice lollies at Ely station, the last several times we've been there having been late afternoon on hot days.) This meant it took longer than it should have done to talk her down, get her hair brushed and set off... with an ice cream. In the end I told her she could have one lolly this week, and she opted for that morning, and then there were no lollies so she wanted an ice cream and I didn't have time to argue having said she could have something.

Anyway, the upshot is, we were late; and not just for breakfast club, for the start of nursery.

It was a bad day all around though. On the way in, we had this conversation:

Me: Oh; I've forgotten your hairbrush. <beat> And my tea.
Arya: (nuzzles my hand) It's all right; everyone forgets things.
<later>
Me: I've forgotten my phone as well.
Arya: See; I told you everyone forgets things.

I'm not sure I found having also forgotten my phone as reassuring as she felt I ought.

Today, by request, we got her up early to have breakfast before leaving, and she cowered from the day star with her face covered. She didn't do badly, and we only missed the train by a few minutes, which did mean I had time to do her hair at Littleport station and we actually got in earlier than on Tuesday, because what the heck?

Also, Ely is a giant wind funnel for driving people back to the railway station.

Another tick in the positive column, she's been very good about going to bed the last few nights, even if not to sleep.

Scenes from my family

Arya attempts to engineer an 'accident' for
her insufficiently pink cycle helmet.

On the swings, after about five minutes of constant, high-level swinging:

Arya: Higher!
Me: Daddy's tired, sweetie. 

Arya: Higher! 

Me: We'll have to stop soon.

Arya: No! Higher!

Me: Do you want me to keep pushing until my arm falls off?
Arya: Yes!
Me: Well, you'll have to stop if my arm falls off.
Arya: You've got another one!

Me: You're a true humanitarian.

This followed her attempts to push her blue cycle helmet on the swings in the hopes that it would suffer an accidental breakage and have to be replaced with a pink one, since Andrew carelessly let slip that if dropped it might have to be replaced.

*

Arya eyes up the Arya-sized spaceship in my Guardians of the Galaxy Lego:

Arya: Daddy. Can I play with your rocket?
Me: (Hands her the heavily armed raccoon minifigure.)
Arya: No, the rocket.

Me: This is Rocket!

For posterity not to judge me too harshly, I did explain and I did let her play with the spaceship.

*

Finally, progress in knock, knock joking:

Arya: Knock, knock.
Me: Who's there?
Arya: Interrupting cow.
Me: Interrupting cow who?
Arya: Banana!

Arya: Knock, knock.
Me: Who's there?
Arya: Banana.
Me: Banana who?
Arya: Interrupting cow!

Money Money Money

In Ely the other day, we took Arya to the toyshop, because Andrew wanted to look at the DIY shop upstairs.

Arya wanted to get this:

It costs £43, so that wasn't happening, but we've been saying lately that Arya has £2 a weekend to do with as she pleases, so I bought her a purse - it cost £2, but no, I didn't charge that to her - in which to save up her £2 a week. I told her that if she makes it to £42 I will cover the extra, because that would be quite an achievement for a 4-year old.

Perhaps even more than I thought, it turns out!

Also in Arya's want list...

First, she wanted to buy a Lego set. She insisted that she had enough money - it was £9, she had £2 - and, when we told her she didn't, tried to run out of the shop with it. She'd been really sweet before and insisted that I had to buy myself a present(1), so the tragic irony of this situation is that I was really inclined to buy her the Wonder Woman vs. Doomsday playset set before she made that impossible.

Anyway, then we got home and she was hungry. She asked me for a cheese and cucumber sandwich - current favourite, especially in pitta bread - and assured me "I've got enough money."

Later she wanted to go to the toilet, and once more insisted: "I've got enough money."

Both times I assured her that she doesn't need to buy things from me. I think she's got the message on that one, and she hasn't tried to buy her dinner since Saturday.

I don't know whether to be depressed that she already believes that there is no such thing as a free lunch or impressed at her perceptiveness.

(1) Totally, geuninely wanted me to get something for myself. Not even something for me that was really for her, or me claiming she told me to get the Guardians of the Galaxy 'Ravager attack' playset.

Knock, Knock

Talk to the hand!

Arya knows exactly one joke:

Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Interrupting cow.
Interrupting c...
MOO!

She loves it, although occasionally she either jumps the gun:

Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Interrupting cow. MOO!

or leaves it a little late:

Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Interrupting cow.

Interrupting cow who?
MOO!

Last night, I decided to change things up:

Arya; knock, knock.
Who's there?
Orange.

Cue Arya collapsing in fits of laughter and declaring "orange can't knock, knock!"

I mean... she's got a point.

Super Stories

She then insisted on keeping the t-shirt on
until it was covered in ketchup.

Hanna was delighted that last night's CBeebies bedtime story was about why superheroes don't use their powers to throw super-tantrums - since Arya kicked off at having to wear shorts and a t-shirt to nursery - and more so that it was read by Chris 'Captain America' Evans(1) (part of their ongoing commitment to mums.)

Arya was delighted that there was a penguin in a cape and mask.

CBeebies Bedtime Stories: Something for everyone(2).

(1) He was dead good at it, but then his dedication to entertaining children is well-attested in his Twitter feud with Chris 'Star Lord' Pratt, in which they wagered on sport ball with the loser agreeing to visit the children's hospital where the winner does frequent appearances, in costume. Seriously, those guys are amazing.
(2) There hasn't been as much publicity around stories being read by good-looking ladies, but there have been a few, if not with quite the same current profile as Evans or Tom Hardy.

Conversations with My Daughter

The other day, I was talking to Arya when she mentioned someone called 'Joke-Eye Derek' (or possibly Joke-Eyed Eric,) which is a name guaranteed to strike fear into the heart of any parent themselves raised on years of stranger danger PSAs.

"Who's Joke-Eye Derek?" I asked.

"I am!" she replied. "Well, I was, when I was a little boy."

This was a bit of a surprise, so I asked: "When were you a little boy?"

"When I was a baby!"

Well, okay. "I suppose your gender identity is your own business."

Arya looked at me and said almost pityingly: "Oh, Dad..."

Just for completeness, I ought to note that apparently Joke-Eye Derek is in one of my Doctor Who CDs (specifically the Seventh Doctor horrific Cromwellian war-crimes spectacular The Settling.)

Glorious

We're at the Ely food festival. Arya had £2 to spend, and accepted that a bouncy castle turn meant not getting a little spoon (and then the man on the tea stall left us have the spoon free with our packs of tea.)

On the bouncy slide ,another little girl got in trouble and her dad was trying to get her down, and Arya was the only one of the children, most of whom were older than her, to get out of the way. So proud of my little girl.

Addiction

My daughter has a Dairylea Dunkers problem.

We went shopping yesterday evening, and she asked for Dairylea Dunkers. No, I said; they're a sometimes treat.

We got to the shops and she asked again. No, I repeated, but it's the long weekend coming up, so maybe we can get some then.

We got to the till.

"Daddy, Dairylea Dunkers." I admire the alliteration, but no.

I went to put the trolley away and she began to howl. I got her outside and it really kicked off.

"DAIRYLEA DUNKERS!"

"No, Arya. Not today. Maybe at the weekend."

"Not at the weekend! Now!"

"No, and at this rate, not at the weekend."

"DAIRYLEA DUNKERS!"

And then she took off her coat and flung it on the ground. I picked up the coat and picked up her and headed home.

"No! No! Put me down! DAIRYLEA DUNKERS! Put me down!"

Eventually I put her down, because I don't like restraining her, but then she ran off back towards the shop, stopped after a bit and pointed at the Co-op. I tried to get to her and she ran on ahead, so I had to negotiate the fine balance between catching up to her and not causing her to bolt into the road. Eventually I hefted her onto my shoulder and hoiked her back down the road to the flat, with her screaming bloody murder.

"I don't want to go home! Put me down! Get off me! DAIRYLEA DUNKERS!"

Honestly, if I never hear that name again...

I got her home and opened the door, put her down and she tried to bolt. Took me the better part of a minute to manoeuevre her and the bags and her coat and her umbrella far enough in to shut and lock the door. Then she sat against the door, kicking and crying and screaming: "Dairylea Dunkers!"

Hanna tried to talk to her, and eventually we went to the sitting room and Hanna told her she could come and talk when she was ready. As Arya began - after about another five minutes - to edge around the kitchen door into the hall, we put on some My Little Pony to act as a lure. Slowly she moved into the living room, occasionally responding to our approaches by muttering "dairylea dunkers."

Finally, she looked up and, bright as you like, said: "I found the ball for my elephant, Daddy, but it went under the sofa."

And that was that.

Easter

Bucking trends, Super Arya wears
her suit over her civilian clothes. 

Today we went to have lunch with my parents at the local restaurant. They had an Easter egg hunt and showed Arya a sample cardboard egg with the number 2 on it. We followed the signs and found some eggs, but Arya was unsatisfied.

"It doesn't say 2!" she protested. Bless. 

Papa, Please Destabilise the Planet's Orbital System for Me

We're watching 'Papa, Please Get the Moon for Me'. As Papa climbs a tall ladder balanced precariously on a very high mountain, I said to Arya:

"As parenting goes, this is definitely going above and beyond, but possibly not in a good way."

She thought a moment and replied:

"Yes. You're probably right."

Rollercoaster

She's a lady.

Wow; it's been a rollercoaster.

I've been solo with Arya today. We began well, then Mummy went off to her game and there were a few tears. Then we tried to have a shower and it all went to hell. I struggle with the fact that she doesn't trust me to wash her hair, and in the end we just couldn't get it done. There was a lot of crying and wailing, and Arya was pretty ragged too. So, no shower, but she's agreed to try a bath tomorrow since she was starting to get itchy and I've explained this is because she hasn't been washing. Maybe I'll even get her hair without a fight.

The rest of the day was pretty good. We watched some TV, went to the shop, did some drawing. We also made some nest cakes, but Arya was refusing to do anything but the things she wanted to do, and I raised my voice when she started talking over me while I was trying to speak to her. There were suddenly all the tears, and I'm really starting to worry that I scare her, except that what she wanted to make things better was lots of Daddy cuddles and for both of us to apologise.

Now, part of this is that she's tired. Also - and she confirmed this - that she's worried about starting at a new nursery with a uniform next week. It's a lot of adjustment for her. Anyway, that's why I let her have a simple dinner tonight, so we could be sure of an early night, take lots of time to not have any arguments, watch some Pajanamals and read a couple of stories before putting her to bed. This meant that the evening was pleasantly mellow, and she was asleep by quarter past eight, which may not seem much, but is an hour ahead of the current averages.

We proudly present... the menu

Menu!

Arya loves watching DVD menus. Well, some of them; Disney ones especially. The animated Jungle Book menu? Loves it. She could watch it for hours. Moana? Complains if you try to put the movie on.

Not that she's agin the movie once it's on, and she also has a profound love of the short films on the extras menu. Gone Fishing (Maui tries to catch a fish while Moana and the Ocean try to stop him. As Arya keeps reminding me, Maui isn't as good as Moana) and Inner Workings (although I'm not sure she entirely gets its musings on life, death and happiness yet.)

But that menu...

Toys

Arya improvises a biohazard hood from the
cover of her buggy, which could also do
with being let go, to prove she still uses it.

Over the weekend, we - mostly Hanna and Andrew, but I helped out and baby wrangled, because Arya was over-keen to 'help' - painted up Arya's bedroom. This involved clearing it out, and with most of her things now transferred from Ipswich, this revealed that she has a hell of a lot of toys. She has toys for here and toys for Martlesham, and her Granny Spot has a serious Build-a-Bear problem.

So, yesterday it was suggested that perhaps some of the baby toys that she doesn't use any more could go to the charity shop so that some other child who doesn't have so many toys could enjoy them. Cue an absolute meltdown and insistence that she does play with those toys still. With all of the toys. All of the time.

This morning she woke up and decided that, actually, that would be cool. So far it's only two toys she's offered, but it's a start.

Honestly, I'd be more strict with her, but... Well, she's switched back to her manual toothbrush and it looks a little worn, and I was thinking I needed to get rid of it, but it has this rabbit head cover, and after brushing her teeth she was putting it away and she made it hug and kiss her other toothbrush (with the shark head) and they were all 'I love you, mummy,' 'I love you, daddy(1),' and now I can't get rid of the rabbit because the shark would be sad.

(1) Because from her perspective these are objective names.

"What's 'Abyssal'?"

Daddy Andrew: You can learn lots of words from that book, like 'Abyssal'.
Arya: Abyssal? What's Abyssal?

Later:

Arya: Quiet, Daddy Andrew! I can't hear.
Daddy Andrew: What can't you hear?
Arya: I can't hear the book talking. 

The New Normal

I have such memories of helping her around
this climbing frame...

I'm back at work today, after three days (plus weekend) at home with Arya, and it's… complicated. It's nice to get out on my own, because after nearly four years of committed misanthropy it's hard to be part of a family and harder yet to be part of a resident family, but it's also tough to go back after five days of admittedly not unalloyed wonder. Despite a few stroppy moments and a lot of tiredness, Arya has overall been a darling, and I can well understand that she is adjusting just as much as I am to the new normality of our lives. I suspect that she is not yet confident that Mummy isn't going to go back to Ipswich, and me going off to work is likely to go down like a lead balloon.

She asked for the episode of The Pajanimals where the Pajanimals are sad that their mum and dad are both going to work the other night. She told me that she is sad that we have to go to work, but she loves her family. Then she told me that she thought the Pajanimals had two dads (like she does,) and when I commented that we only hear one of them she thought for a moment and said: "I think the other one is dead." So that got real dark, real fast; like a BBC Scotland comedy drama.

Oh, and when I told her that her Tails of Equestria character could be Fluttershy's cousin, but that Fluttershy was already somewhere else in the story, her alternative choice of name was Secret Ants Midget Mother Cheese.

Trouble at t'mill

And now Arya has moved in - bringing with her a lovely batch of gifts and cards from nursery - and she is giving me hell. Because Daddy Andrew left, because Mummy had to go back to Ipswich and finish her course, and probably because she's establishing ground rules. Will Daddy Luke let me eat breakfast in the sofa? How far can I push this or ignore that? In this latter instance it doesn't help that she was ill at the weekend, so we let things go a little, possibly setting a dangerous precedent.

But she is alternating being a screaming brat with total sweetiness. After being a pain all through dinner, she told us she was sorry and that she loved her family, and was delightful at bedtime right up until we asked her to actually go to sleep (see picture.) This morning she came through, curled up next to me and went back to sleep, then woke up to complain about her milk not being cold enough.

The Last Ersatz

Eeee!

The title of this entry is perhaps a little clickbaity. I'm not planning to stop the blog, but this is perhaps the last entry in the old style, as this coming weekend Hanna and Arya will be moving in. It will be a challenge in many ways, and will entail a different style of blogging, although I'll try to post on at least a weekly schedule.

But anyway, to this last weekend:

Everyone arrived Friday, free from vomit (hoorah!) we had a bit of chicken korma for dinner and then started putting Arya to bed, but she had a huge row with Andrew and refused to even talk to him afterwards. Eventually she wanted Mummy to put her to bed, and although she was pretty good about that, come the morning she was still giving Daddy Andrew the stink eye and kicking off at the least excuse. She was actually pretty good up to Sainsbury's, where she became very upset that we wouldn't let her run off without us and I had to talk her up off the floor to come and help me choose a mother's day present for Hanna. In the absence of any DVDs that we didn't already have, she chose a little Belle doll, on the grounds that Mummy loves Beauty and the Beast, and I hid it in my pocket. Later she suggested hiding it in her car seat, but I suggested that was a bit visible.

Riding.

In the afternoon we went out with her bike for a little bit – first time in a while – and then to the shop, and after that to the park. Arya needed to come back to the toilet almost immediately, then we went out again, and he had a mini-meltdown when we told her she couldn't hit cars with her stick. Then we got to the park properly and almost immediately she went into a huff about sharing the roundabout, but she cheered up considerably on the swings, then had great fun on the slide and the climbing frame. When it was time to go home and wake Mummy after her nap, I left Andrew and Arya in the park, and they seem to have continued to have fun.

Andrew and Arya decorated some cupcakes. We had goulash for dinner, which Arya didn't like much, so I made her beans and sausages while she went out with Andrew to get some more frozen sweetcorn. She was then pretty good about getting ready for bed, although she wanted lots of stories and I think she'd got hold of the fact that they were going early in the morning.

The morning began in the usual haze of We Hate George Vernon Hudson Day, proceeding to pancakes because it was also Mother's Day. Arya gave Hanna her present and then asked if she could share it. We had a nice breakfast (Arya had cereal and strawberries, because she's still not convinced by pancakes,) and then got everyone ready to go home. Arya was fussy about her clothes and… well, everything really, because she didn't want to go, but as noted above, this is the last time we'll have to do this of a weekend. Next weekend all we need to worry about is how to fit all of the stuff into the available storage space.

Tale as Old as Time

Cucumber sandwiches. No crusts.

Ups and downs.

This weekend, the biggest down was that I was ill, probably with the same thing Arya had last week. I'm still recuperating from that.

On the upside, Arya was... 85% pure awesome and only 15% bane of our lives. I had to turn in early on Friday - by which I mean Hanna said at seven o'clock: "Arya, get Daddy's teddy bears, we're putting him to bed." - and she gave Mummy hell over going to sleep. I slept for about an hour and a half, then got up and had a little chat with Arya, which... that's not even a euphemism. I went in - which was obviously what she wanted, on top of what is looking disturbingly like more growing pains - sat down and talked to her, about what she'd done and why Mummy was upset, and we agreed that she ought to put her head down, close her eyes and go to sleep. I left her to it, and that seemed to do the trick.

On Saturday we did the usual morning stuff, except that I didn't go to ballet so as not to infect all of the other kids. Arya got another card and present, and no-one hated us for cancelling, so yay! The afternoon was sleepy, since no-one had had a great night and I was still ill. Hanna crashed for a few hours, and then my parents popped in in passing. Arya mostly ignored them, because she takes a little while to really click in with people, then asked why they hadn't stayed longer(1).

Hanna had spent much of the day persuading Arya to sign on with the planned cinema trip to see Beauty and the Beast. She's come to enjoy the original, but was worried it would be scary. To win her over, Hanna watched the trailer with her, and Arya got really into that, so we watched all the trailers. Teaser, story, final, domestic and international, with comparisons to the original; anything YouTube could offer. After dinner (pizza) she started worrying about being scared again, so I persuaded her to ask Mummy if she could borrow her Beast teddy bear to help her not be.

Winning!

In the morning we set out for the 9.30 showing (not ideal, as it meant no Chiquito's breakfast before, but too late for it after,) with Arya in her Belle dress absolutely owning the cinema. We had to nip out a couple of times - apparently Belle being attacked by a pack of slavering wolves is less scary than her future love interest snarling at her, which is probably good instincts in a lot of ways - but basically she was a brave little girl. She initially said that she liked the film, but later revised her opinion to say that she didn't like the film but she liked the singing and the dancing, and Belle, and the Beast when he was kind, and Gaston dancing, and basically everything but snarly Beast and the torch-wielding mob.

She did get a little confused by the ending:

Arya: But where are Beauty and the Beast?
Me: There they are, see.
Arya: That's not Beauty and the Beast. That's Beauty and the Prince.
Me: The Prince *is* the Beast.

Later, as I was telling this story to Hanna, Arya piped up: "I think you were right. The Prince is the Beast."

Validation of my crazy fan theories at last! Next I shall convince her that Bruce Wayne is just Batman with his hat off.

Also owning the bookshop. And Build-a-Bear. Basically, I'm sorry, but if you
thought you won the weekend, you were probably second place or lower.

Lunch at Chiquito's was disappointing - reminder to self, never order from the set lunch menu - but after that we went into town for some necessary shopping. Arya and I stopped off at a science centre display in the Grand Arcade and she made a virus and a bacteria. Then we picked up a frock coat for the Beast, and a Belle dress for Princess Doctor Bear before moving on to the bookshop. Arya wanted to find a book with a witch; a nice witch, specifically. We looked at Meg and Mog, and she said that wasn't right, 'but close.' One of the staff helped us find a couple of likely options, so we picked those up before meeting up with Hanna and heading home.

Arya watched some PAW Patrol while I read Hanna's essay. I felt a little bad for leaving her hanging, and she was very determined afterwards that I shouldn't ignore her any longer. That was a fair cop, although she pushed it a bit when we were getting her ready to go back to Ipswich. It's only a couple of weeks now until she and Hanna move in, which is scary, but definitely good, because she really, really doesn't want to go of a weekend, and kicks off to the point that I almost want her to go; not for her to be gone, but so that we won't be fighting any more.

(1) Because I might be infectious.