Flat as a pancake

Today we've made a snowman in the garden. He's not particularly tall – taller than George but not as tall as Daddy – and has the same affliction as the Elephant Man. In fact if we were to lay him down his head would fall off.

He has a bucket for a hat and did have a carrot nose and stones for eyes, but these fell out after a few minutes. He has twigs for arms and in true snowman tradition has no legs.

So, after building our snowman and messing about in the white stuff we were ready to go back indoors and warm up. George, however, was keen to remain outside garnering a collection of wet patches on his clothing with the aim of merging them into one almighty sodden mass.

We managed to tempt him back indoors with the promise of making pancakes with chocolatey hazelnut spread, mushed-up bananas and squirty cream. After taking wellies and boots off and warming up we set to work on the pancakes while maintaining a degree of damage limitation in the squirting of squirty cream department.

Now, if you were a little boy, what could be better than warm pancakes, chocolatey hazelnut spread (you know the one), bananas and cream? Not for George! As soon as the pancakes were ready he asked for hummus, breadsticks, cheese and apple. Well, each to their own... and all the more pancakes for Mummy!

Something to smile about?

My family has never had the best of relationships with dentists. My mum was very good in making sure that we got our teeth checked out regularly and even paid for us to have our molars plastic coated every so often – although we certainly didn't appreciate her efforts at the time.

For us the dentist was a scary place – the hygienist loomed like a jaundiced, anorexic corpse, terrifying drilling sounds tried to hide behind every door and an odious medical smell permeated the air – the only possible outcome was pain, tears and prolonged discomfort (I remember on one occasion pretending to feel sick so that I didn't have to go through with a filling). What my mum wasn't to know was that the dentist was a bit of a crook and some of the treatment we had was unnecessary – he eventually did a disappearing act and the surgery closed down (or something like that).

Needless to say, I soon avoided the dentist when I was old enough to make up my own mind. However, after chipping a tooth about 10 years ago I started going back for regular check-ups and now have a dentist I trust. Fortunately, apart from having my chipped tooth seen to, the only treatment I've had since is a replacement filling, done with very little drilling and a strange light directed into my tooth that made my whole mouth glow as if I was being transformed into some sort of dental superhero.

And now it's my turn (along with mummy) to make sure George gets proper dental care too – he goes for his first check-up next week.

The dentist has recommended that we look out for an episode of Peppa Pig that features a visit to the dentist. We must also encourage a daily brushing routine – which we've been doing for quite a while already (as when he was a baby I caught a Panorama documentary on TV about children having to have all their teeth out by the age of 2 or 3 because they'd eaten nothing but ketchup. Mummy may call me neurotic but ever since I've never been keen on George having the red stuff and was overjoyed when he tried it for the first time and turned his nose up). The only problem we have with brushing teeth is the spitting afterwards – George prefers to suck the brush clean and ask for more toothpaste.

So, with the very best of intentions, like my mum with me, we're going to be orally vigilant on George's behalf – after all, we think he has a smile in a million!

Bye bye Christmas tree, hello 2012

And so this Christmas is over. Last year George watched us take the Christmas tree down and cried nearly all day – he has never cried as much either before or since, including the day his bottom two teeth went through his bottom lip. This year we've taken the tree down while he's out of the way and when he returns from his extra day at nursery the whole house will be decoration and pretty lights free.

Gradually everyone's outdoor decorations are coming down too, which means our car journeys are a tad more bearable with George's running commentary on the colours slowly winding down. Listening to "blue ones... blue ones... red ones... white ones... blue ones... white ones... greeeeeen ones..." was fun but has about run its course now.

While we were at it (taking the decorations down) we decided to have a change around too, so George will also be a little surprised to discover the chairs and settee have swopped places and the hi-fi and speakers are in different corners.

All said and done, it has been a very pleasant festive season – and very busy too. There hasn't been a day when we haven't either been entertaining or visiting friends and family but it has been fun and George has really enjoyed it too, despite his bedtime routine taking a bit of a battering.

Like most two-year-olds, George had lots of toys for Christmas – my particular favourites are his Lightning McQueen laptop (which frees up my laptop from episodes of Mike the Knight and Octonauts) and his medical kit which has a stethoscope, syringe, otoscope and a reflex hammer – the latter of which instills fear in Grandad who has just had a knee replacement.

Finally, of course, as it's my first post of 2012, here's to a happy new year!