Friday, 21 November 2014

Ladbroke's

Should I be worried that my two-year-old was so desperate to get into a bookie's today?

Thursday, 20 November 2014

Pants.

I

The McBaby came home in these last night. As Daddy Pig would say: "I wasn't expecting that".


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Tuesday, 18 November 2014

Yogo Elephant



The McBaby's never really had a favourite toy before, but his new-found obsession with elephants and some rare good behaviour meant that I was minded to buy him a nice elephant to cuddle (it might help him go to sleep without having to hold my hand for hours, I reasoned).

It's not as easy as you'd think. We started in M&S, then WHSmith, then Boots. Nothing. Then the Entertainer who had some massive toys but no elephants and then Debenhams where I made the mistake of asking that question which is also answered with "if it's not on the shelf, then we haven't got any". Followed by "have you looked on the internet?"

Another staff member guided me to the computer and typed in elephant. "Perhaps we could have a look under Keel Toys as they have a concession over there?" I proffered.

"K-I-L-L toys?" she barked?

"Er no, K-E-E-L. I don't think "Kill" tested too well with the focus groups."

Nothing.

Then we tried the bank-busting JoJo Maman Bebe. Bingo! An elephant toy for babies on the shelf, complete with bell.

Let's have a look for something for bigger boys, I said, spotting a lovely plush blue elephant standing tall on the shelf, retreating back to our first choice when I saw the £57 price tag.

So we took the elephant home (and no one was around to hear my "shall we put it in the trunk of the car" joke) and the McBaby named it "Yogo" for some reason. A later visit to some friends (who have a daughter called 'Molly' that the McBaby has renamed 'Polly') say it's from the freaky "Waybuloo" programme that messes with my head. Incidentally, Polly had an Elmer Elephant which upstaged Yogo, so I'm not sure the love affair will last long. I'm already on the hunt for an Elmer.

So I put the McBaby to bed with his elephant on the first night and as hoped, he drifted off happily. The woke up seconds later when the elephant moved and the bell tinkled. And then again. And again. Why do I have a feeing Yogo is going to end up in the canal?




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Friday, 14 November 2014

Hoofah Doofah

There's nothing like seeing your own behaviour reflected in your children's actions, is there?

The McBaby just pointed the remote control at the television and theatrically proclaimed: "There's NOTHING on!"




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Tuesday, 11 November 2014

Sorry shoes




This time last week, I took the McBaby to get a new pair of shoes. We got his feet measured, he wouldn't sit still and then we left without buying them because the McBaby was messing about and nearly accidentally kicked a little boy. His mother growled at me as if he had kicked him, so we made a swift exit.

I then realised that I could order the shoes online. Then, all I'd have to do would be to run in, collect them and pay for them, meanwhile getting rich via a cashback site (this didn't work in the slightest. I was promised 6% but received 20p. I'm terrible at maths, but 6% of £34 is not 20p, is it?)

Anyway, I think Clark's deserves this money after our two performances.

We returned to the store, and I don't know about where you are, but it's pretty wet today, cue much jumping in puddles. The McBaby also partook of this activity (I'm joking; I didn't) so had wet trousers, wet socks and wet shoes.

The woman in the shop asked if we "wanted any help on kids", and then remarked that she recognised us from our last visit. I bet she did! I told her that we'd come to collect some shoes which she went to get while I wrung out the McBaby's wet clothes. I then realised that the bag containing his spare clothes was in the car. (If you saw me a bit later drying a very small pair of pants, two socks and a pair of trousers in the Dyson hand drier in John Lewis, this is why).

She returned. The McBaby threw a pair of pink girls' shoes at her. This is an insult in some countries, and not particularly pleasant in ours. I asked him to apologise.

"Sorry shoes", he said, the little sod.

She then had to fit his shoes in his bare feet as his socks were so wet. "This isn't normal procedure" she said. "They're fine," I said, embarrassment winning out over the parental responsibility of ensuring your child's shoes fit.

I went to pay for them and the McBaby made a den under a couple of chairs. I paid and thanked my lucky stars that he had only done a couple of embarrassing things when he yelled; "I DONE A WEE". Cue much frantic whispering between the lady and her surly colleague. Probably pointing out that it should be "I DID a wee" not "done".

I sheepishly asked for some kitchen roll and apologised while on my knees cleaning up what was, to be fair, a minimal amount of wee.

"It's fine" she said in that voice that tells you it really, really isn't.

So McBaby, please don't let your feet grow anymore, as we are not returning; I'm too embarrassed and we're probably barred anyway.






Monday, 10 November 2014

Satan's Trifecta

As we stopped by the side of the A338 for the McBaby to do a wee, I patted him on the back for telling me in time that he needed the loo, and ignored the fact that most of the wee was ending up on my shoes.

Just 15 minutes before this as I was drying him after a hour-long swim, he told me he needed the toilet as I was changing him out of his swimming trunks. Between us, in a tiny, dirty cubicle, we managed to catch most of the poo in the just-discarded swimming nappy, while I caught the rest in a pair of socks.

Then, struggling to find anywhere to put this little package in the boot of the car, I found a bottle of whiskey in a presentation box in the boot of the car; it had been destined for a friend but I forgot to give it to her. I took out the bottle and put the socks inside the box. Note to self; throw that box away; don't give it to anyone as a gift.

So, having dealt with this, why did I not see the next thing coming? As a treat after swimming, I thought I'd take him to the new café that's opened up about 15 minutes from our house. It's lovely in there, very clean and homely with friendly, welcoming staff. We had a look at the menu, and as I turned to ask the McBaby what he'd like to eat, noticed his cheeks puffed out like a plumber telling me about the boiler.

Instinctively, I held him away from me so that my body caught all of the vomit while the lady behind the counter told me the specials. I legged it to the toilet and bless her, the lady came with me and offered lots of kitchen roll, praising me for ensuring none of the sick went on the floor.

We apologised profusely to the amazing staff; I noticed a customer at a table near the door who didn't look too impressed with what she'd just seen so hopefully she writes a blog too so I can experience it from someone else's point of view.

The McBaby and I limboed out of the door and back to the car and made it home. I'm currently doing our fourth load of laundry of the day, but thankful that the police officers that were stopping people on the main road somehow let me go by unimpeded. Perhaps they could smell us.




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