Hi! <Waves>

Funny and honest tales from a made-to-work Dad of three, wobbling, graying, and laughing his way through parenthood. Armed to the teeth with Nerf guns, full of pie, fighting a chocolate addiction, but genuinely honoured to be at least half of Team Parents (yay!).
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Showing posts with label Miss4. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miss4. Show all posts

3 February 2016

Bye Miss4... HELLO Miss5!!!

Miss4 has turned into Miss5. By magic.

It is was inevitable it is your destiny to be honest, she's been Miss4 for ages.
Years.

How's it feel to be five?
'Oh brilliant, very cool' <Nods a lot>
Oh yeah? How so?
'Well I'm five tall now' <Stands on tiptoes>
Yeah? Is that much taller than, let's say... yesterday?
'.. suppose not...' <Come off tip of toes>
'... But I am five strong now'
<Shows me her muscles>
<Looks> ... What are we looking at?
<Points> 'There'
<Looks harder>Where?
<Points> 'There!!!'
<Strains to see>
Oh yes! <Lies> I see!
'Told you. FIVE strong!'
You sure did. Very cool.
'...'
...
'Can I drive the car now I'm five?'
Nope
'Can I stay up late and watch violent Boy8's cartoons?'
Yeeee-Nooo
'Can I watch Star Wars Episode III?'
Nope
'Do I still have to go to school?'
Yes... and for quite some time
'Till I'm six?'
Yes, maybe even longer <Refrains for mentioning the ghastly truth>
'Am I old enough to light the fire now'?
No. But you can pass me logs and crumple paper
<Is unimpressed>
'Do I get any Super Powers at five?'
Try jumping through that wall
<Splat>
Ha ha! Seems not
Nope
'...'
'WHAT DO I GET AT FIVE THEN???'
<Thinks, but has no ideas>
... Show me that muscle again...
'This one?' <Points>
Oh yeah, Ooooo! That's big! You must be very strong…
'Five Strong actually'
Indeed
OO! I just thought of one thing you do get at five!
'Wot?'
<Gives a five hug>

I have seen on other blogs and websites that it is quite customary to write a gushing and frankly puke inducing list of things that you love about your child once, and whence, and whencever (all real words) they have a birthday.
I did contemplate writing a 'gusher' as it were. And I could.
But then I thought naaaa... No one wants to read that.
Miss5 (née Miss4) knows I love her.

Instead I thought I'd write a list of all the things the-artist-formally-known-Miss4 is and does that I think makes unique and rock quite so hard.
Essentially, a list of reasons why I would want to hang out with Miss4 in the pub library...

1. Miss4 claims all farts
If someone farts, and no one apologises or owns up, Miss4 will put up her hand and say she did it.
Even if she didn't.
Karmic-ally speaking that is mind blowing. What an amazing selfless gesture. On the road to inner peace she is already working out which exit she needs to take. What a star.
Try it yourself next time, take someone else's fart shame.
We should all do that.

2. Sweets
Miss4 shares her sweets with everyone around her, until they are gone.
She doesn't make a fuss. She just shares. Even if they are just for her, or it's a tiny bag of sweets. She shares.
In fact Miss4 will hunt you down and offer you a sweet. Which considering her little legs and the million stair gates we have through our house, is no mean feat for her.
It's not as though she doesn't like sweets, she loves them. But she wants to share them more than she wants to eat them all. What a weirdo. I've literally no idea where she's learnt this from. Me and Mrs. Amazing share, we do. But we are firm believers in 'snooze you lose', or 'be upstairs when the sweets are opened, get no sweets', or 'if you're not hiding in the cupboard with us whilst we eat all the sweets, you get none'.
Imagine Miss4 (in years to come obv.) in the pub, coming to find you, just to make sure you've got a drink. Blinding!

3. The need to rock
Despite loud noises hurting her teeny ears. Miss4 understands and appreciates the need to rock.
More specifically, Miss4 understands my need to rock, whilst driving.
The other day we got in the car and Muse, who do very much rock, were playing. Miss4 was in the front with me and the music was lovely guitar crunchy rock. 
Only it came on at a sensible volume. Ew. I left it that way as I didn't want to blast Miss4 with loud music. I need not have worried.
Whilst I drove off, Miss4 leant forward to the CD player, pressed and held the volume button until it hit suitable gurning volume.
Then with a smile, Miss4 sat back, put her fingers in her ears and we rocked out together.

(And now... Row, row, row your boat )

4. It's her world and we are but guests in it
I utterly love this about Miss4.
Miss4 doesn't need my approval, or yours, or Mrs. Amazings, or Boy8s. She'd like it, don't get me wrong, she loves fitting in. She likes being part of a team. She loves to get praise just like everyone else. 
But she won't pretend to enjoy something just to please you. If you're doing something she doesn't want to do, then she'll move on. None of this waiting and hoping crap.
You wanna play ball? I wanna play Lego. You play ball. I'm playing Lego.
You want into her world? And you do, then it's on her terms.
She does not exclude or ignore, she isn't mean and she isn't cold. She will happily play your game, do your challenge, be with you. But the moment she's not having fun, or she's bored. Your time is up.
It's her world and we are but guests in it.

5. Pom pom
Miss4 loves pom-poms. Little balls of string that you can glue to stuff. Lovely.
But for her it beyond that. She loves the words pom-pom too. In fact she uses it quite often as we talk.
How was your day?
'Pom-pom'
What did you have for lunch
'Chicken and pom-pom'
Did you do any sticking today, stick down any small balls of string?
Yes <Grins>

6. Miss4 is a master builder
I consider myself creative. 
And thus blessed / cursed with a good imagination.

Mrs. Amazing: 'What shall we do today?'
Let's invent a mega-fast-drive and fly to America, I will dress as an orange penguin and we can sneak onto George Lucas's ranch. Once on the ranch I will steal four horses, convince them through a new found horse whispering ability, that they want partake with me in a horse-penguin extravaganza show to grab Georges attention. As George watches, you swoop in and wow him with your youness, George befriends us, and we all fly about galaxy in the Falcon!
'... orrrr... we could visit your Mum for lunch?'
Yeah... we could do that instead...
My idea sounded more fun though
<Is a little huffy>
‘And nuts’
‘Maybe next week’ <Pats me on head>

I seem to have two LEGO modes. 
I can either allow my O.c.D. tendencies to rise up, like a big careful and precise monster, and follow the instructions TO THE LETTER! As the Lego Gods intended, ultimately tearing myself apart as I fail to achieve the perfection I strive.
Or I can don my snowboard, gloves, lipsill, and really head off off-piste. And build mad crap. Lego constructions without reason or use or logic. And whilst I consider the mad crap I make to be of highest... er... crapness madness.
I am but a student to Miss4's Lego creative master.
She builds with heart and soul.

(How long did that take you?... Two minutes… Shiiit)



But that's not the brilliant bit. The brilliant bit is that through her surreptitious use of the phrase pom-pom whilst I we singing along to songs, she can reduce me to tears of laughter. There is somewhere inside my little girl, a comedic genius lurking.
As always with comedy, it's the timing she does so well...

[John Lennon's - Imagine plays, I sing along]
“Imagine there's no heaven”
“It's easy if you try”
“No hell below us”
“Above us only...”
<Shouted from the back> 'POM-POM'
“Imagine all the people living for today”
<Giggles from the back>
<The seriousness and gravity of the lyrics are utterly undermined, I crack up, and end up laughing through the rest of the song>
<Mrs. Amazing gets in the car to find me and Miss4 dying of laughter to John Lennon's Imagine>
<Mrs. Amazing ignores us>

7. Miss4's favourite is not me
It's Mrs. Amazing. I know it. You know it. We all know it. BabyBoy1 knows it.
Miss4 is not subtle in her Team Parent (yay!) preference either. The t-shirt and matching hat are hurtful, even Daddies like hugs sometimes.
But it is fine. Being second to Mrs. Amazing is not a bad place to be. And those two do seem to have things in common, that I do not. Physical things. They both have long hair.
At present I find I have to work hard to win Miss4's love at the moment, and whilst that sucks on many, many levels, and really I wish Miss4 would be more Daddy friendly. We do have our moments.  
And there is one very clear silver lining to this. Miss4 has learnt, already, just how much she is worth to me and she uses it merciless against me. At only four, Miss4 understands her self worth better than most adults I know.
Long may it reign Miss4.

8. Miss can be as fierce as hell
I think other tales on here will explain how fierce you are better than I will now LINK.
But I will add this.
When Miss4 ripped her curtains, and rail, from the wall, pulling the raw plugs out too, when she did that at bedtime in anger and defiance because she didn't like the nice butterflies stickers on your wall.
All of a sudden.
That night, after I had calmed down and screamed into a pillow for a bit, had quite a few cups of tea, eaten a whole chocolate bar, bitched about how long it was going to take me to re-drill the holes for her curtain rail. After all that joy. It was then that I released just how fierce, spirited and full of fire you really are.
I am so bloody proud of you.

9. Nose picking
My rule is you can pick your nose as long as no one else sees. Which I think is fair.
Fingers fit nostrils for a reason.
Miss4 accepts this rule, and now hides under a blanket or duvet, so I can’t see. Whilst she picks her nose. 
Genius.


(Bye Miss4... You were magic!)


[Is putting Miss5 to bed after a lovely birthday]
Can I have big five year old hug?
<Asks because Miss5 does not want to be hugged sometimes><But hates having to>
'NO'
<Internal tears nearly start, but gets a grip, and instead thinks>
Then can I have... a big four year old hug?
'Yes'
<Secretly gives a five hug>


6 September 2015

Ironing (ROCK!)

Tonight, me, the iron, some not-flat-enough clothes, and some cricket highlights, got together and PARTIED! *
(* Actual amount of parting was none, I was naffing ironing)

I haven't done any ironing for a while, so I volunteered.
I even insisted a little, I was blind drunk.

I'll do the ironing if you like!
Really? If you don't mind?
No I don't mind, it's been...
<Mrs. Amazing runs>

I'd like to point out that none of the tiny enormous tub of laundry, is mine.
I do not wear shirts or suits to work and ironing spandex never goes well.
Maybe there's the odd shirt in there that's mine. But it's rare.

WEIRD!!! You're wearing a shirt?
I wear shirts! <Mild indignation>
See <Spins to show off shirt>
I have loads of shirts
How many?
Oh loads… <Stalls>
Last count was...
Probably…  about... er.... 3
<Looks for confirmation from Mrs. Amazing>
<Mrs. Amazing shields face with hand and edges out of the room>

(Iron Man… Just like me… Except I've an iron)

Anyway ironing, HELL YEAH!

I start easy. Pillow cases.
A bit of me doesn't want to do pillowcases because it's a bit stupid. They are just going to go under my head as I pass out sleep. But Mrs. Amazing likes them looking nice and I find them a good ironing warm-up.

Oooo a wicket!
<Rewinds>

Next in the small pile of mountainous ironing are some of BabyBoy1's clothes.
BabyBoy1’s clothes are like those scratch and sniff cards, or stickers, that Boy8 gets. You know the one’s? You scratch then and they always smell horrible. And weirdly he always gets them from the library for reading. (Why?)

BabyBoy1’s first top smells of… <Builds tension>…  food.
Ahhh blitzed roast dinner. Nice.
Second smells of milk, fair enough, it's a bib.
Third.... Ewww! REJECT!!!

<Throws clothing into laundry for round two>
<Goes and picks up clothing that missed laundry bin by miles>

Next is Miss4's clothing.
Mrs. Amazing points out that these need name labels ironed in too.

Can't you do it?
'I spent all of last night ironing in name labels'
So you're the house expert?
And now you love doing it?
'You do it' <Slight iron-madness in voice>
OK
How?

I find the labels, I manage to iron the right type on this time, and Miss4's white tops, with frilly collars are done. Result.

Next is her new school skirt.
It's pretty. It's grey, but it's pretty. Because it has, and I believe this is the technical term, pleats. Big pleats.

I am 30Lots and in all that time, I have never, ever, owned any clothing that has, or ever had, pleats. How smeg do you iron these smeggers?
However it's not a problem as they are new and don't need ironing (YES).
I suppose I could ask Mrs. Amazing to show me how, and learn a new skill right here and now, but… you know…

WICKET!

Miss4’s skirt though makes me stop and think.
My little girl is getting bigger is starting to wear clothes that emphasise her femininity.
I imagine how life may be in 12 years time...

Miss18: ‘Ol’ man’
Yes princess
‘I need money’
<Hands over £50>
‘I need money enough to get drunk
<Hands over another £50>
So me and Shazneenian-may can score with boys
<Takes back all the money>
<Mrs. Amazing ‘nods’ me to hand over more>
<Empties wallet>
<Weeps>


(That should be enough for a Mars bar...)

Urgh!!! Why do I do this to myself.
I am sure she'll be a good, studious, sensible, girl, that doesn't spend all her time trying to ‘get’ with boys in the Monastery I will lock her in.

Boy8's clothes now.
His clothes have kevlar weaved into their fabric. It makes them strong enough to withstand all his playing and perpetual knee slides. Why so many knee slides? No one knows.

I pick them up and for the first time ever I notice these are not the slightly comedic trousers that little boys wear. You know the trousers that are really shorts, or the trousers that look like they've come off a doll.
No Boy8’s trousers, look like men’s trousers. He is getting bigger.

I iron my little MAN’s trousers and then it comes to my moment to shine.
This is the bit of ironing I can do well.
<Whispers really, really quietly> Better than Mrs. Amazing

I fold the trousers.
Hell yeah. I fold them good.

I fold them like they are suit trousers, which is something I know how to do, because I wear suits. And another man showed me how to years ago.
Mrs. Amazing pretty much has the monopoly on clothing knowledge in the house, except when it comes to suits. That’s my tiny bit of skill/knowledge.

I’ll show Boy8 how to fold trousers when he’s a bit bigger. I’ll show BabyBoy1 in years to come. And they’re show there kids. Ahhhh the circle of suit life. 

WICKET!

Trousers folded, to suit standards, I smugly continue ironing and grab the next item in the basket.
It’s one of Mrs. Amazing’s dresses.
It’s complex.

There is no actual way to lay it flat to iron it. Bits of it, I think, shouldn't be ironed and should look creased, other bits need to be flatter.
I've no idea what fabric it’s made of either. It could be made of goats cheese for all I know (it is not).
It is utterly impossible.

I recently had two washing failures, in a day. BabyBoy1 is sporting some lovely pink baby grows and one of Mrs. Amazing’s dresses is less white. It didn't go down well.

(... Hmm… I’ll just put the iron on mega-heat and steam and hope)
(... Craaaaaaaap)

So my confidence clothes-wise is knocked and I don’t want to mess up her favourite dress.
My perplexion and reluctance at ironing the dress does not go unnoticed.

‘Leave that one if you want’
I was going to my love
<Sits>
I was going to...

WICKET!


2 September 2015

Bouncy or Not?

Today I taught BabyBoy1 the difference between things that bounce, and things that do not.

<Thud>

It felt like a really good idea at the time.

<Bang>

I thought that whilst we were playing, I could teach my littlest boy something important, one of the key fundamentals of life: Bouncy or not.

<Crash>

Me and BabyBoy1 had found one of Miss4's pots of treasure. The kind of pots that make Mrs. Amazing cry out in frustration, and then actually cry.
Because each treasure pot contains loads and loads of tiny crap stuff, that's going to take ages to put away, and was probably away this morning.

<Smash>
'Oooo' <Points at smashed thing>
<Shakes head>
<Totters off, continuing rampage of bounce-testing>

Miss4 puts a lot of effort into creating each treasure pot.
She goes into every single board game, jigsaw, bag, box, drawer, handbag, pocket, cupboard, tray of crap we have, and carefully picks out one thing.
Normally of a matching theme: colour, size, weight.
Then she fills in any space left in the pot with bits of paper, coins, buttons, beads and bouncy balls.

(A small treasure pot's contents)

<Bonk>
<Smash>

The frustrating thing about the treasure pots is that you can't just throw it all away.
Even though half of it is crubbish (real word), that no one in their right mind would care about (Except Miss4), you can't just throw it away.
Because the other half of the crubbish is really important stuff we do want, like:
The top hat from the Monopoly set
The valve for the paddling pool
Bits of Boy8's Lego
My Lego
Bouncy balls
Gold Krugerrand coins

<Thud>

So when me and BabyBoy1 found this pot of treasure and it had a few bouncy balls in it.
I thought, great idea, let's show him how to play with a bouncy ball.

<Smash>
'Oooo' <Points randomly>

We had great fun.
It's amazing watching BabyBoy1's face as he sees things for the first time. I put a bouncy ball in his hand and showed him how to throw it.
He giggled so much as it bounced off, he was so happy chasing it. So full of wonder and excitement, it was amazing to watch.
Top moment.

<Bonk-bonk>
<Thud>

After a while though he wanted to bounce other things, experiment a little.
So I passed him wooden blocks, Lego, buttons, coins, from the treasure pot.
I was caught up in his learning and wanted to feed his scientific curiosity.

<BANG>
<Lots of rolling sounds>

Of course all the things I passed him soon became dangerous projectiles. Didn't really see that coming to be honest. And when BabyBoy1 found some things didn't bounce, he just threw them harder.

<Smash>
'Oooo' <Nods>

Obviously, after a while, his scientific discovery had to stop. I had been hit in the head a few times with blocks and buttons. Also he was making quite a mess.
I closed the treasure pot and told him the game was over.
He took it well.

<Eeeeeeeee>
<Thud>
'DADADADADADA'
* Daddy look at what I have done

He took it well because he had no intention of stopping.
By closing the treasure pot I had changed the parameters of his experiment.
I had stopped him experimenting with the carefully selected samples (the treasure pot), and instead, I had suggested through dog whistles that he test every single item in the house.
Man did that backfire.

<Splat>
‘AAAAAAAAAAAA’
* Nice

Which is why I am sat here watching BabyBoy1 bounce test everything he can reach.
I could stop him, I really could. But I'm not going to.
He's discovering things, live, on his own. This is a big development moment, I don't want to interrupt it.
Plus it’s my dumb idea I started it.

<Crunch>
<Bang>

BabyBoy1 is quickly finding out that there are not many things that bounce in our house.
Lots of things that break though.
Lots.

(I’ll add cups to the ‘Not’ list then…)

<Boing-boing-boing-boing-boing>
'DAAAADEEEE!'
<Huge grin>

He finally found a bouncy one. Good for him.

<Thud>
'Oooooooo'