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!

It's Christmas!

Christmas Day is nearly here and we're pretty much ready for it – and if we're not, there's not a lot we can do about it now!

I remember, as young boy, waking up on Christmas morning to find a stack of presents at the end of my bed – usually stuffed into a pillowcase until its seams were bursting. It was such a huge heap of assorted, colourful gifts and my eyes were probably as wide as saucers with the anticipation of opening them. The worst bit was the wait – waking up at 4am and being told to go back to sleep for at least another three hours or so made the suspense drag unbearably.

These past three Christmases have been the most exciting since my childhood ones and they just seem to be getting more and more fun. At the moment George isn't quite old enough to wake eager and extra early on Christmas morning, so it will be me who'll be revisiting my childhood and asking "is it time yet?" – although probably not at 4am!

We have been to visit Santa, who had a bit of a Brummie accent, and even though George didn't have a list or didn't know what to ask for for Christmas, there is a whole heap of presents that Santa will be delivering – enough to fill two, if not three pillowcases.

Next year and probably the next few after that, George will more than likely be waking us up at some ridiculously early hour to tell us Father Christmas has been... and I'll be telling him to go back to sleep for a while.

Happy Christmas all!

Christmas is coming and we've been busy

We've been quite busy recently – what with Christmas coming and all that – but we've still managed to find time to have some fun. We've been...

... painting ...

... playing in the woods ...

... baking cakes (and eating the mixture) ...

... and visiting Santa on a special Christmas steam train on the Battlefield Line near Bosworth Field ...

And as such the blogging has suffered a little bit. I'll try to get back on track, especially after Christmas. After all, when you're George's age there's something new to learn, say or see almost every day...

His latest favourite phrase is "course it is!" or variations such as "course I do/it does/we do". Yesterday he called Nanna's dog Daisy "big stinky" – don't know where he picked that one up! More recently, even though he has had an ear infection, he has been overjoyed to see Christmas trees and lights going up everywhere. We, along with both sets of grandparents put up our trees on the same day – I reckon it was some kind of race – so George had a day of Christmas tree overload and spent most of the time jumping up and down in front of the trees and then running round in circles until he fell over.

It is certainly tempting to spend a lot of money on presents – there are so many fab toys around – but while he's a little too young to be making Christmas demands we've managed to keep a lid on it. The trick is not getting in the car and going to Toys R Us in the first place!

Growing up too fast

Now, I like to set my little boy a good example but I'm not sure if this was the case last Friday. In fact I probably inadvertently sowed a seed of corruption.

Friday is my day with George and at lunch time we began a negotiation on the terms of eating some food. We managed to agree on what food to have – sausage, mash, peas and gravy – and all was going according to plan until a stalemate over location. I wanted George to eat his lunch at the kitchen table, he wanted it on the coffee table in the lounge in front of Balamory.

So, guess what... George agreed to eat all his lunch very carefully and I agreed to let him eat it in the lounge. Jokingly I told him "but don't tell Mummy or Daddy will be in trouble".

When Mummy arrived home from work she gave George the usual big cuddle and lots of kisses and then asked him about his day (I had already told her about our lunchtime bartering). She asked him what he'd had for lunch and George answered "sausages". She asked him where he'd eaten his lunch and George answered "in here" before remembering what Daddy had said and quickly changing his answer to "in there" and pointing to the kitchen – then he gave me a knowing look that said "almost got you in trouble there but I think we got away with it".

It was a look that I'm not sure I liked – mainly because it seemed such a grown-up expression for such a young and innocent face.

Moments later I was left wondering what kind of Pandora's Box I'd opened... A few parpy noises emanated from the seat of George's pyjama bottoms to which we surprisedly responded "what was that noise?" Quick as a flash George replied "Mickey" and passed the blame on to Mickey Mouse.

I mentioned that George has been settling into his new bedroom – and we're pleasantly surprised that he has done so rather seemlessly. Even though he's no longer in his cot, he doesn't get out of bed after we've put him down (although he did the first night or two) and he waits in his bed for us to come to him in the morning.

The other thing that has surprised us is that every night he turns his nightlight off before he falls asleep. At first we thought he could be being very grown up and realising he was tired was making a conscious decision for 'lights out', but now we think it's perhaps the stars on his ceiling that he likes to look at before he eventually nods off.

George's new room

If you've been wondering where I've been, I've been putting together IKEA furniture for George's room – actually, shopping for it probably took longer, what with IKEA's absolutely ridiculous store layout (if I had the means I'd be taking legal action for false imprisonment).

Still, the Stuva storage stuff looks really good and George is now settling into his new room and sleeping in his 'big boy' bed. It is taking him a little longer to settle (it will be his fourth night tonight) and occasionally we hear a few footsteps and other noises that tell us he's up and about rather than tucked up asleep.

However, George is rather proud of his new bedroom and shows it off to family and friends with glee. This is how it looks...

On the wrong side of the door

George's friend Noah came to visit the other day with his baby brother – and his mummy, of course – and when it was time to go home we all walked out to the car to see them off.

George must have been feeling extra friendly because he was quite happy to give Noah a kiss goodbye – there will come a time when this will be discouraged – and Noah was quite happy about it too.

Moments later the car has been loaded with bags and children and all the associated paraphernalia. Noah's mum walks round to get in the driver's side and we turn to walk back up the garden path to see George race ahead of us, run in the house and slam the front door shut.

Aaaagh! He is now alone inside the house with me and mummy locked out – all keys and phones firmly indoors. Worse still, we know that George cannot open the door from the inside – he can reach the handle and pull it down so that it is unlatched but hasn't got the strength to pull the door open (it's quite heavy and makes a suction noise when you open it).

Noah's mum watches the panic ensue from her open car door and the only thing we can think of is to borrow her mobile and call a grandparent (both sets of which have a spare key to our house).

Fortunately, I could see George through the door window and after a couple of seconds of encouragement manage to get him to pull the handle down – and it's first time lucky – as soon as I think he's pulled the handle down and unlatched the door, I give a little push and we're back in.

Panic over.

It was a bit of a lucky escape – I dread to think what might have happened if we had had to wait for Nannie, Nanna, Grandad or Grandad... and it would have been even more unthinkable if we hadn't been able to contact them. We would probably have had to call the fire brigade, and in George's eyes that kind of excitement is pure encouragement.

At least it wasn't raining.

How to give a balloon an inflated ego

I'm on a level playing field with a balloon. Apart from the fact we may be similar in that balloons are round and have no hair (unless you draw it on), it seems that when it comes to a goodnight kiss George is in a dilemma as to who should be first and I am often last in line.

Mummy, balloon, me. And it's not one balloon in particular – after all they don't last that long – any old balloon deserves a goodnight kiss, perhaps a little rub and a cuddle, even when they're looking shrivelled and deflated and no longer bobbing up against the ceiling they still get their kiss. I sometimes have to pull a 'very sad face' – something I can do that a balloon can't (ha) – before I get my goodnight kiss.

The other night I was even further down the pecking order – Mummy, balloon, train, lorry, a picture of Thomas the Tank Engine, me – but I'm hoping things might change when George sees his new bedroom. He has watched me painting the walls and the woodwork and he knows daddy has been working on 'George's new room' but we've been keeping him out since we added the Finding Nemo mural, Lightning McQueen bed and a Stargazer Ceiling that glows in the dark with a true representation of the night sky. When it's all done we'll do a big 'reveal'!

The ceiling is particularly magical. The best way to see it is to lie on the floor from where you can view constellations including Ursa Major and Minor, Gemini, Cassiopeia and Cygnus and even the Milky Way in the distance. It almost looks as if the ceiling has disappeared, and to a little boy fascinated with stars and the moon it will be truly captivating.

Now, if that doesn't elevate my status there'll be some serious popping going on!

Say cheese

Probably the cheesiest blog I've ever posted...

This what happens when we leave the cheese unattended for a few moments...

And it's so hard to keep a straight face and tell him off when he grins at you with a big cheesy smile!

In the bright garden

We've spent a little more time outside enjoying the garden – could be down to the sunshine and the lovely warm days we've been having...

George finds a new use for the slide...

and is fast learning the art of posing for the camera...

and finally, I couldn't resist taking a pic of the afternoon sky.

Advertising shmadvertising

Our trip to the cinema turned out to be very enjoyable and a great success. George sat through the whole 60-minute 'Day of the Diesels' film without shifting an inch – even when other older children were getting fidgety, with about 15-20 minutes to go, George remained mesmerised.

It was the 15 minutes before the film that he wasn't interested in and that made us a little apprehensive – advertisements and gumf and all that non-descript rubbish that precedes a movie had George fidgeting and whingeing before Thomas the Tank had even appeared.

It's advertising that makes us avoid Milkshake on Channel 5 as much as possible. We make exceptions for Thomas and Roary the Racing Car, of course, but other than that we switch back to CBeebies as quickly as possible.

It won't be long before the power of advertising eventually "brainwashes" our little fella – just as it does relentlessly to the rest of us – and I fid it a little sad that the influence advertising has is almost omnipotent, telling us what we want or need and convincing us we need things that we don't even want.

Having said that, and reiterating the fact that advertising is pretty much unavoidable, I do quite like the new Sainsbury's adverts with a lad and his dad – it's a squishy hug of an advert for all dads, especially 'stay-at-home' dads (or whatever we're meant to be called).

The Tesco ad, on the other hand, when mum phones dad to ask about the shopping and he tells her he's at the supermarket but is actually doing the shopping online because he's too lazy to get off the sofa, has one fatal flaw. When mum gets home, how is he going to explain where the shopping is?

And then there's the one for the daily moisturiser that lasts for seven days... eh? Anyway, I'm heading off at a tangent here and must curb my advertising rant.

Highly recommended is my book 'The Smallest Happy Number' – just click on the Lulu link on the right and... oh no – even I'm at it now!

The Boy Wonder

Not sure if he has designs on being a superhero or he thinks his nappies aren't doing their job properly – but this is George taking a picture of me taking a picture of George, and even though George's camera doesn't take real photos, I made sure I was wearing my underpants underneath my trousers.

Staycation time

September is the month when both my and mummy's MoT is due and when mummy's tax disc needs renewing – so we're not going on holiday.

Instead we're having a 'staycation' and doing some holidayish things while stopping at home.

On Monday, George went to nursery as usual, which gave me the chance to start decorating his new room in de rigueur blue for a boy (not a typical holiday activity, I know).

Yesterday, we went to the zoo. We have been to the zoo before but this time we let George run about rein-free – so he loved it just that little bit more – and we ran about a little bit more than usual too.

Today, we have been swimming – or rather George has been splashing and jumping and sliding and we've been wading and chasing after him. More than that, we travelled to the baths on the bus and sat on the top deck, right at the front, both there and back.

After parking in the local supermarket car park we crossed the road and waited at the bus stop. We'd only been there a couple of minutes when nanny drove past in the opposite direction. She spotted us and we waved as she mouthed something and made some kind of turning-around hand sign, probably thinking our cars had failed their MoTs or something.

We didn't find out if she did do a loop at the next island as our bus pulled up and we hopped on. After we settled in our seats we sent a quick text to explain our bus queue situation and then burst into song with an extended version of 'The Wheels on the Bus' (minus daddy's verses about 'the cows on the bus', 'the donkey on the bus' and 'the kangaroo on the bus' which apparently goes boing, boing, boing all day long). It was a shame that the other passengers didn't join in, but I have to admit, as more people got on, it eventually ended up with George singing solo and increasing his volume to pick up mummy and daddy's slack.

For the rest of our 'staycation' we are having another day out on Friday (not sure where yet) and a trip to the cinema on Saturday morning (I think I mentioned that the other week)... and George has joined in with the theme by asking to wear his sunglasses while watching In the Night Garden.

Now... if the cars pass the MoTs then perhaps we'll celebrate with an ice-cream.

Mini 'CHiPS'

We have our very own highways patrol, keeping law and order on the driveways and paths outside our home. Actually, George would rather be using his newly-found riding skills to herd chickens in the field but fortunately his highway patrol bike wouldn't fit through the kissing gate.

If this is anything to go by the chances of reviving TV cop show 'CHiPS' has just taken a huge leap forward...

Big boy, big bed, big screen

I've just put George down for his afternoon nap and I must admit I really enjoy cudding him to sleep until his arms go flop and Mickey Mouse falls out of his grasp, and it's when he's snuggled up on my lap that it dawns on me how big he is getting.

I don't think he's particularly tall for his age (at 2 and a quarter he's about waist height on me) but we've realised it's time to get him out of his cot – and those sleep-bag things – and into a 'big-boy' bed. In preparation for this we have cleared out the second bedroom, putting things in a) the loft b) the skip and c) daddy's office. We have painted swatches of various shades of blue on the walls – somehow we managed to buy two that were exactly the same – and cooed over beds in the shape of Lightning McQueen and Thomas the Tank Engine.

We have also decided that he's getting to the age when he might enjoy a trip to the cinema – he sat on my lap and watched Kung Fu Panda from beginning to end without shifting an inch the other day – so we've booked tickets to see the latest Thomas the Tank Engine film, Day of the Diesels. I'm actually quite excited about it, mainly because the last time I went to the cinema was to see True Lies starring Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jamie Lee Curtis, way back in 1994.

It's not that I don't like films – I like films a lot – it's more that I don't like rustling sweet papers, talking, munching and slurping drink noises (I don't think there were many mobile phones around in 1994 so things can only have got worse). Also, you can buy a DVD to keep and watch over and over again for less than the price of a cinema ticket.

George has yet to develop any 'Victor Meldrew' tendencies of his own and I'm sure he'll be mesmerised by the big screen, and however much background noise there is, it will all be part of a new experience for him, just like it was for me when I went to see Snow White when I was little.

Sssshh!

Easy up... easy down

Sort of a warning, or rather a heads up, on the transition from normal nappies to those pull-up type pants.

Well, George is now in the pull-ups during the day and one thing we've noticed is that, size for size, they're slightly larger/looser than the normal nappies (although this could be because you don't have control over the tightness of any sticky fastening strips because there are none).

A couple of number ones and all of a sudden George looks like a teenager who thinks their waistline is below their bum and their crotch is between their knees. Then, he'll bend over to pick up Thomas the Tank and we get the view of a proper builder's bum in the making. Hmmm... the builder look or the teenager look? Perhaps we ought to get him some Calvin Klein pants and run with the lobotomised teenager look.

But the story doesn't end there... I was happily preparing dinner in the kitchen and George was happily playing in the living room. After a few moments he entered the kitchen holding something between his fingers, saying "little one, Daddy... little one". It suddenly dawned on me that he is no longer wearing his nappy and is holding... well, let's just say it looked like a Revel and I wasn't in any hurry to find out if it was coffee, toffee or orange.

The Easy-up nappy seems to have been just as easy to get down and was sitting on the mat in the middle of his train track. One good thing is that it didn't unfold like a normal nappy and retained all of its contents. So, it was just George who needed seeing to (luckily he hadn't sat down anywhere) and I decided it was probably best to start with his hands which were beginning to wander towards his hair, his ears, cupboard doors, walls and my trousers.

We've since bought the next size down and these fit a little more snugly and don't ease their way down quite so effortlessly. George loves his Easy-up pants and, as long as they stay up more than down now that we've got the right size, we quite like them too.

Cheeky

Aaah... the age of innocence. There will come a time when he won't be able to do this (or won't want to), but at the moment he walks straight past the fig tree and isn't even tempted to cover his modesty with one of its underpants-shaped leaves. "Hey, George... don't touch that apple!"

George's rules of outdoor play

It's a sunny day and we're enjoying a morning outside in the garden – we have set up the paddling pool and the water toys, the umbrella, the sunloungers, put a blanket on the grass, opened the patio doors to the kitchen and conservatory and put Bebel Gilberto on the iPod. Everything set for an enjoyable, fun and relaxing time in the sun for us all.

But George has his own rules:

1. Soil the last swim nappy without having been near the paddling pool.

2. Instantly jump in the paddling pool the moment he has a clean, ordinary nappy on.

3. Transfer as much sand from the sandpit to the paddling pool and as much water from the paddling pool to the sandpit as possible.

4. Play in the dirt or somewhere slightly hazardous, in fact anywhere apart from on the grass where the toys are.

5. Try to eat the sunscreen lotion.

6. Press as many buttons as possible on daddy's laptop when he's trying to check his email.

7. Ignore water toys and wash and dunk toys not designed for water play – ie. those with batteries or engines. Rosie the engine, one of Thomas's pals, has been almost fully submerged and has passed this test admirably.

8. Wee on a sunlounger (mummy's thankfully).

Needless to say George is the one having the most fun. Hopefully, mummy's sunlounger will be nice and dry by the time she actually gets to sit in it – probably this evening, after George has gone to bed and the sun has gone down. Well, perhaps a glass of wine will make up for it.

A touch of Mozart

With the BBC Proms in full swing, George decided to put on his own concert – a little bit of very early Mozart no less. Although he manages the tune perfectly well vocally, his fingering does need a little work on the accuracy side!