Thank You Worst Witch...

Have you read 'The Worst Witch' by Jill Murphy?

I haven't. Not all of it… yet...

But that’s mainly because I grew up in a house full of boys.

Hundreds of them. Everywhere. You couldn't move for boy books (Roy of the Rovers), toy cars, stinky sweaty footyball kits and smells. Everything was very much boy themed (especially the smells).

Not much girl stuff made it into the house. Definitely not stories about young girls attending a witching college and getting into slight scrapes.

But then, that was ages ago, before steam was invented, and PC meant a fuzzpoliceman.

Sorry, Police Officer man.

Mum: ‘Does anyone want this toy kitchen to play with?’ 

<Offers to her boys, more in hope than expectation?>

Me me me!!!! <Raises hand>

<Get's looks and thumping mimes from brothers>

… Actually... On second thoughts...

<Further punching and kicking mimes, throttling, stabbing, elbows etc…  from brothers>

Nope! Changed my mind, don't know what I was thinking...

Let's all go play Footy Ballington… I LOVE IT

Bet I convert more than you lot! <Runs off>

<Rude gestures made behind back, but all go play Football by brothers>

[Years later]

Who wants steak and ale pie?

Bruv1: ‘Me!’

Bruv2: ‘Me! I WANT LOTS’

Bruv3: ‘POUR IT INTO MY MOUTH!!!

Bruv3: ‘IMMEDIATELY!!!’ <Mimes punching and thumping>

No... <Smacks bruv with pie ladle> Sit!

Bruv3: <Sits>

So...

Miss5 was given 'The Worst Witch' for her birthday.

Mrs. Amazing was instantly vocal about it, and started flicking through the pages in joy and with childhood memories bubbling up. It's amazing how a few sheets of paper can do that. 

Even more exciting was knowing that Miss5 was going to be reading it for the first time very soon. I get the same feeling when Boy8 picks up a 'Calvin and Hobbes' or an 'Asterix'. 

#Proud

Mrs. Amazing loves the 'The Worst Witch' books. She loves the film that was made. 

Which makes sense as it's got Tim Curry in it! I KNOW Tim 'Rocky Horror Show' Curry!

Marvellous.

(So Tim… Through the medium of prosthetics… Tell me how you're feeling?)

I, on the other hand…

Was not excited to read it. It looked a bit dullo to me. 

But who cares what a 30Lots man thinks about a book aimed at small people. Elfs.

And really getting Miss5 into chapter books is bloody very important, and Miss5 was dead excited to be reading chapter books.

She was keen as mustard (what a ridiculous saying… ‘very enthusiastic’ it means).

I'm gonna be honest here.

Four or five chapters in... I was pretty bored.

And I was the one reading it out loud. 

Obv. I was my best Monty Python style ladies voices for the teachers. Slipping into panto dame every now and then, due to a bit of a cold.

But after five chapters there had been no near death explosions at all.

Not one serious comeuppance, moral learnt, or face punch in the story.

No lasers. No gross out slugs and potions. No broom races. No one had been turned in a pile of poo and pretty much every seemed get on really. It sucked.

Someone did get turned into a pig I suppose.... But it didn't grip me, I kind of knew she was going to be OK.

And worse, and unforgivingly, there hadn't been a single hint that a huge dragon would be rocking up later and burning stuff, to my delighted squeals.

So far the story had been about a clumsy witch and her mate doing stuff that was a teeny bit magical. But mainly they were just going to school.

I was unimpressed.

Then the other night me and Miss5 got to Chapter six.

I can't tell you what happened in the story that was different to the other chapters, as it all seemed the same to me. I was reading it aloud but didn't notice the change.

Like I say, I am not the target audience. I find it hard to empathise with young girls attending boarding school. With pigtails. And skirts.

But something in the story changed for Miss5.

Suddenly. She was right there, in the story.

She was utterly gripped.

And as the tension in the story grew, Miss5 edged closer to me as I read, and started to lean on me as she listened.

Which was bloody brilliant.

Because if you didn't know…

Whilst Miss5 and Mrs. Amazing are the best huggy, kissy buddies ever, and seem to need three rounds of goodbyes every morning, and every bedtime.

I'm STILL made to sit on the floor for story time.

Apparently I'm too smelly and stubbly to get in under the covers as Mrs. Amazing does.

Which is totally unfair who's scruffy looking, I shave much more often now.

I do get more hugs than I used to from Miss5.

I really do. Our physical relationship is improving.

But, lets say, using chocolate to compare what Mrs. Amazing gets against what I get…

I get a chocolate button...

Whereas Mrs. Amazing gets a Choccywoccydoodah cake....

(And no I don’t have any affiliate links with ChoccyPomPom… I just like eating their cakes).

Still.

Forget all that crap and my heartbreaking, jealous, and failing attempts to win my daughters love that never work. Forget it.

Miss5 leant on me as she was gripped by every single word of the book. Everyone's a winner.

A book I was being utterly un-gripped by.

Apparently the story then got scary as I read. I didn't notice.

But Miss5 suddenly held onto me tight.

Then as the tension went, as the chapter finished, she backed off again.

Again, I didn't notice anything change in the story and by then I was looking for it.

But it was very real for Miss5.

It is clear to me now.

Miss5 is not going to be the same as me. Or like everything I do.

Bonding with her is not going to be as easy as it is, or has been with Boy8.

I am going to have to think about stuff a lot. And from her point of view. Craaap

But I bet you every comic I have 50p a gentleman's wager.

It will be worth it.

<Runs out to buy all the Worst Witch series>

<Runs back and just does it online… It’s easier… Less wolves...>

P.s...

(Mrs. Amazing made me add this, something about first batman loves…)

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>

After the Un-Wrapping...

How was your Christmas?

Good? I hope so.

<Hugs you anyway>

Last night was the first night, in probably a week, I went to bed sober.

It’s funny how getting whammed having the odd drinky is totally acceptable at Christmas time. 

And totally awesome as well.

I've also eaten far far far too much cheese.

That’s strange too. In what way does eating more aged dairy products symbolise Christmas? The best kind of way. Who cares! In our cheese world it does. Team Parents (yay!) stocked the fridge up with many lovely different types of cheese and we splurged on crackers. Not just Jacobs crackers as per normal. No no.

We had Jacobs Crackers variety box. Twice. <Drools>

#LivingTheDream

BabyBoy1 loved the extra cheese in the house.

He has been sneaking into the fridge a lot and coming out with cheese. Which is fine really, although I am not totally happy sharing. It's mostly good for him.

He’s also leant that things that look coins, probably have chocolate in them. Which does feel like a choking incident waiting to happen. But hey! it’s Christmas. 

I assume he can tell the difference between coins that bend in his mouth and taste of chocolate, and well, real coins. Real coins that, so far, have no use in his wonderful world.

If only he knew that you could trade normal coins for the chocolate ones.

BabyBoy1 was given a brilliant present.

Auntie-Amazing took a Pinterest idea and made it real. Yes I KNOW! It can be done! 

She actually made something from Pinterest in real life!

She’s magic!

(We all want one... Even the Cat...)

Basically Auntie-Amazing has given BabyBoy1 a Batmobile.

Not a fun little car that looks cute, not the Mickey Mehmeh car, a bloody Batmobile.

He's only one and already has a Batmobile. That's one of my life goals he has already checked off. Brilliant! The jammie smegger.

Without the stickers it would just be a black car. Covered in Bat stickers makes it at least a Millennium Falcon on ‘Awesome-O-Tron’. (Tron is on it about 15th).

Even better though was BabyBoy1’s reaction.

He is only just getting the hang on Christmas, the unwrapping, the bizarre yet brilliant influx of new toys and stuff, the cheese, chocolate for breakfast, constantly drunk parents.

BabyBoy1’s face as he realised the car was his. Just his. For him.

Was amazing...

‘Uh Uh UHHH’ (* ‘That’s AWESOME! WANT!’)

‘CAR CAR CAR UH UHHH UHHH’ (* ‘WANT MINE! Batmobile’)

<Moves towards car>

Dude, it’s yours

<Gives me disbelieving look>

<Opens the door for him>

<Tiny eyes light up>

‘... Mine?’ (* ‘I now claim this as mine, forever… come near... you die!’)

Dude, it’s all yours

<Holds back Boy8 and Miss4 from having a go>

<BabyBoy1 sits in his car grinning>

‘Mine?’ (* ‘Seriously mine? For keeps?’)

<All the adults nod>

<Biggest grin ever from BabyBoy1>

BabyBoy1 sat in his car for the next three hours.

He unwrapped presents in it, he ate in it. He only got out to walk around it, and then climb back in it. He wouldn't let go without some serious force as he was removed to have a nap. When he woke he climbed straight back in.

I think the other children had one or two goes. But BabyBoy1 had to be distracted by something else shinny. And then when he noticed he was straight over, pushing, nicely at least, anyone out of his car.

Great present.

Miss4 got the yellow Lego snowflake she had asked for.

Santa came up trumps. Somehow he managed to track down a single yellow snowflakes for her. I heard rumours he had to get it from a French eBay site at a horrible mark-up, because it's really hard to find just one yellow snowflake, on it's own, at Christmas time. <Grumbles>

Still she loves it. And she is chuffed to bits that Santa found it and brought it just for her. That's gotta be worth any swine eBay mark-up. 

Santa put it in a jewellery box as well, just to make it extra special.

Good work Santa.

Good expensive choice.

(The fireplace I feel adds the required gravitas…)

Santa didn't let Boy8 down either.

Although not quite how Boy8 had thought it would happen. Boy8 had asked for two (yes two) dwarf hamsters from the big fella. FC. Santa. 

So on the day Boy8 unwrapped a brilliant hamster cage, with hamster food, hamster water bottle, hamster wheel, average sawdust. Everything you could want to start looking after your very first hamster. Everything... except an actual hamster.

But don’t fear. You don’t get to be Santa just because Team Parents (yay!) got whammed one night, some eight years. No no.

Santa clearly had thought about it. He had written a letter. A nice letter saying that ONE hamster was probably the way to go, and not the dwarf one’s either.

Santa had done his research as the pet shop people told me the same when I asked too. Funny that. How does Santa find time for all this stuff and research? Probably has a Elf that’s an Hamster expert I reckon.

Yesterday me and Boy8 went and got his hamster.

Santa had also given Boy8 a voucher for the hamster, so there was no messy money situation going on...

Pet Shop Girl: That’ll be £10

Cool…. Hang on…

<Dumps huge handful of change on the table>

<Takes back penknife, memory sticks, lighters, gum and mag-light>

<Sorts though pennies>

I've got £7.43? That enough? <Flutters eye lids>

Pet Shop Girl: Close… But no

Try this card

<Tries card>

Pet Shop Girl: It’s only good for £1.22

Really? OK. Split it on this one as well…

Pet Shop Girl: 25p on that one....

OK OK <Lays out another seven cards>

Please start with the Darth Vader card, then the Samurai Jack card, R2-D2 card ... and end with the Captain Barnacles card here <Points>

<Gets a look from the girl>

<Smiles back and dies a little inside as aware is spoiling magical moment for Boy8>

Pet Shop Girl: Your grand total comes to £9.87… You're still short

Who are you calling short?

Er… Boy8… You got any cash?

REALLY? This is the last time though… You still owe me £3

Yes, yes, all right I'm good for it, don't go on…

<Boy8 pulls out wallet stuffed with notes>

Can you change a £50?

Boy8 is very happy with his hamster.

Team Parents (yay!) can tell. We are his parents and we can read that little boy like a book. Every nuance, every words he says, how he walks, how he holds himself, we have seen him grow from nothing to Boy8 he is. We process and understand his every movement and interpret it's meaning. 

It’s really a special, mystical, magical parent thing.

Oh and he drew this...

(We spend many hours deciphering this… Subtle as it is...)

Then the hamster training began.

We want Boy8 to be able to handle the hamster brilliantly. Of course.

Don’t want him scared of being bitten. I seem to recall being bitten by my hamsters when I was young and not liking it very much. I think I got good enough to be able to handle my hamster. But I am not 100% sure about it. I was probably a bit wussy about it to be honest. But I did have three of the little furry dudes, so I bet I did man up eventually. I didn't.

So I sat down with Boy8, with Miss4 watching, and took our time getting to know the hamster. I read up on how to do it safely. And had received advice from the other lovely lady at the Pet shop.

I was one with the force knowledge.

Boy8 was bitten straight away.

Blood! A proper pin prick on his finger.

I could see in his little gangly eyes that this was a pivotal point in his hamster training and I needed to be strong for him.

It’s fine, don’t worry about it

He’s just getting to know you

MAN UP

It’s still bleeding! <Is close to tears staring at finger>

Yeah it’ll do that, just suck your finger…

Watch me do it...

I got bitten straight away.

Internally I thought OW! And then my but that is bleeding a lot. 

I gave the hamster a bit of a look. But then I noticed something.

The look of tears in Boy8’s eyes had gone. He was laughing at me.

Watching me get bitten, just like he had, was the exact remedy he needed.

It seems that if his Dad (me) can get bitten as well, then it’s nothing he is doing wrong. My similar failure absolved his. I am so glad.

This all occurred to me whilst I sat there sucking my finger and crying.

Boy8 shock off the agonising pain and tried again.

#BloodyProud

But I was even more proud when he got bit again, and he just laughed it off.

He and his hamster are going to get on just fine, I am sure of it.

He’s been bitten, twice!, and is still going back for more.

Hell he'll be fine for love too.

Miss4 however.

Having watched me and Boy8 get bitten thrice (combined), vowed clearly and loudly never to go near the fluffy dude ever. She crossed her heart and everything.

She’s a smart cookie that one.