The generation gap and way things are constantly changing manifested itself quite spectacularly over the weekend.
On the one hand there was our niece who has started working and studying childcare. She spends most of her week on placement at a nursery and has to abide by certain regulations. They include things like not telling a child they are being naughty, but telling them that their behaviour is making her sad; not saying pooed your nappy, but using the word soiled instead; and not telling them the right or wrong way to make pretend tea in case it is contradictory to their traditions and offends their cultural background.
On the other hand there was George's great nan who is about 93 or 94, and at Sunday dinner, when George didn't really want to eat any more because his teeth and gums were a little sore, asked him if he wanted a punch on the nose!
George seems to be amassing quite a collection of toy cars (actually, I quite like collecting the Hot Wheels ones myself), and they seem to end up getting everywhere. Whenever it's time to leave the house he will pick up as many as he can, gathering them in his arms and attempting to bring them with him.
What tends to happen is that he drops one and when he bends down to pick it up he drops another one, so he bends down to pick that one up and drops another one, and so on and so on.
Over the past few weeks we find them in all sorts of places...
On the stairs...
In the kitchen...
On the coffee table...
The bookcase...
The bathroom...
And at tea time, of course!
They get everywhere don't they? But the worst place, the worst of all, is under your feet, first thing in a morning, without slippers!
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