Here we are in Hobart, just Ivy and me. Last night I commented to Chloe that Ivy does not yet do much imaginative play. This morning in bed, Ivy wanted to joosh my hair. She patted and stroked and detangled. Then she applied imaginary shampoo and conditioner. Then some QV. Then she massaged in some frog spawn. She said it would make my hair nice and wet and shiny. Then she looked out the window at the watery early-morning moon. She picked something off the window pane and rubbed it into my hair. I asked her what it was, and she said, 'moon shine'.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Frog spawn and moon shine
Here we are in Hobart, just Ivy and me. Last night I commented to Chloe that Ivy does not yet do much imaginative play. This morning in bed, Ivy wanted to joosh my hair. She patted and stroked and detangled. Then she applied imaginary shampoo and conditioner. Then some QV. Then she massaged in some frog spawn. She said it would make my hair nice and wet and shiny. Then she looked out the window at the watery early-morning moon. She picked something off the window pane and rubbed it into my hair. I asked her what it was, and she said, 'moon shine'.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Hazel is a little baby
At playgroup she makes a bee-line to the baby rocker. She wedges herself in, and deteminedly plays with the hanging toys.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Seven tracks
Today it took until Track 7 of The Best of ABBA for Ivy and Hazel to fall asleep in the car. They are totally wiped out after a long weekend in Tatura with family, and no day naps.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Pretend twins
When we were picking the girls up from creche the other day, one of the carers gave her usual extended-disco-mix account of my girls' every move during the day. She's very young and keen, so I listened politely to the most tedious details (Trudi was already in the car with Hazel by this point). Then the carer leaned forward and said "Can I ask you a question?". I love this moment, people have the funniest questions.
Carer: Are they REAL twins?
Me: Um, yep. They grew in my tummy at the same time, that makes them twins.
(I've been talking to the girls about twins lately, so the toddler-appropriate explanation came to mind.)
Carer: Oh um right. I just. You know.
Me: Did you think they might be pretend twins?
Carer: Well um yes. Ah.
It turns out that she thought that Trudi & I might have each had a baby at about the same time, and decided to call them twins for the fun of it. All the other twins at the creche are really similar frats, or ID, so that might have made her think that really really frat twins were suss.
Poor sweetie, she was ever so nervous! I thought she was very brave for asking.
Carer: Are they REAL twins?
Me: Um, yep. They grew in my tummy at the same time, that makes them twins.
(I've been talking to the girls about twins lately, so the toddler-appropriate explanation came to mind.)
Carer: Oh um right. I just. You know.
Me: Did you think they might be pretend twins?
Carer: Well um yes. Ah.
It turns out that she thought that Trudi & I might have each had a baby at about the same time, and decided to call them twins for the fun of it. All the other twins at the creche are really similar frats, or ID, so that might have made her think that really really frat twins were suss.
Poor sweetie, she was ever so nervous! I thought she was very brave for asking.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Not my usual sort of poo story
Trudi told me this story. I hope she puts in a comment to fix up all my exaggeration. She tells me that when I re-tell a story of hers that I embellish it... pretty up the boring bits, and mix it in with other events. So stay tuned for the real story.
Here is what I remember...
Trudi took both girls out in the afternoon for a run on a nearby oval. We Prestonians are not well served in the parks department, so they went to the local trotting track (yes, I did see horses being trained there once, years ago). The middle of the track is a cricket pitch in summer, and an off-leash dog exercise area too.
The girls took off, and were running around having a good time, when Trudi saw Hazel pick something up - is it a bag? Shades eyes, peers a bit more (we are not getting any younger, are we), it IS a bag. Shouts, HAZEL COME BACK.
Now Hazel is 2, and she is doing a very good job of it. HAZEL COME BACK is filtered through her 2-year-old ears into her 2-year-old brain, and the message she receives is HAZEL, RUN AWAY, I WANT TO COME CHASE YOU. So she runs.
I'm not sure what Ivy is doing at this point. I choose not to embellish.
Trudi runs after Hazel, and gains some ground. She sees that Hazel is holding a small black plastic bag, and that it has something fairly heavy in it. HAZEL PUT DOWN THE BAG is translated into HAZEL, WHIP THE BAG AROUND FURIOUSLY, I WANT TO SEE HOW FAST YOU CAN DO THAT WHILE YOU CONTINUE TO RUN AWAY FROM ME.
Trudi runs, and gains more ground. It's clear now that the bag contains dog shit.
She catches up with Hazel, who is daubed in shit. She somehow gets her back to the car, gets most of Hazel's shit-smeared clothes off, puts the girls in the car and drives home. When they arrive home, Trudi is ashen and shaken, and she says to me: Hazel is covered in shit, you clean her, I can't face it, and off she goes to the car to clean it.
For the next few days, each girl tries out the words DOG SHIT a few times. Ah, we don't say that word. Mummy said it because she was upset, but she should have remembered to say DOG POO. Little kids should say POO, not SHIT.
WHY would someone go to the effort of scooping their dog's shit into a bag, and then leave the bag behind?
Here is what I remember...
Trudi took both girls out in the afternoon for a run on a nearby oval. We Prestonians are not well served in the parks department, so they went to the local trotting track (yes, I did see horses being trained there once, years ago). The middle of the track is a cricket pitch in summer, and an off-leash dog exercise area too.
The girls took off, and were running around having a good time, when Trudi saw Hazel pick something up - is it a bag? Shades eyes, peers a bit more (we are not getting any younger, are we), it IS a bag. Shouts, HAZEL COME BACK.
Now Hazel is 2, and she is doing a very good job of it. HAZEL COME BACK is filtered through her 2-year-old ears into her 2-year-old brain, and the message she receives is HAZEL, RUN AWAY, I WANT TO COME CHASE YOU. So she runs.
I'm not sure what Ivy is doing at this point. I choose not to embellish.
Trudi runs after Hazel, and gains some ground. She sees that Hazel is holding a small black plastic bag, and that it has something fairly heavy in it. HAZEL PUT DOWN THE BAG is translated into HAZEL, WHIP THE BAG AROUND FURIOUSLY, I WANT TO SEE HOW FAST YOU CAN DO THAT WHILE YOU CONTINUE TO RUN AWAY FROM ME.
Trudi runs, and gains more ground. It's clear now that the bag contains dog shit.
She catches up with Hazel, who is daubed in shit. She somehow gets her back to the car, gets most of Hazel's shit-smeared clothes off, puts the girls in the car and drives home. When they arrive home, Trudi is ashen and shaken, and she says to me: Hazel is covered in shit, you clean her, I can't face it, and off she goes to the car to clean it.
For the next few days, each girl tries out the words DOG SHIT a few times. Ah, we don't say that word. Mummy said it because she was upset, but she should have remembered to say DOG POO. Little kids should say POO, not SHIT.
WHY would someone go to the effort of scooping their dog's shit into a bag, and then leave the bag behind?
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