Showing posts with label Parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parenting. Show all posts

Monday, February 21, 2011

What would Atticus Finch do?



This is great - and rather timely - The Best Parenting Book You Will Ever Read. (Found at Free Range Kids).

Kate Hunter puts forward the idea that To Kill A Mockingbird has a damn sight more to tell us about parenting than any number of modern parenting books. For example.....
There’s a reclusive man living in your street. Widely believed to have stabbed his elderly father in the leg with scissors. Probably kills and eats cats.

What we do now: Sadly the police can’t do much unless someone found bloody scissors or saw a cat in a sandwich, so the next step would be to get the media to investigate. Then we’d get a petition together to have the man moved. Possibly via a Facebook page. Only then would children be allowed out unaccompanied.

What Atticus did: He told Scout and Jem to respect the man’s privacy. Also, they were not to refer to him by his nickname, ‘Boo’ but as ‘Mr Arthur’. When the kids tried to lure him from his home and were chased by Arthur’s father with a gun, Atticus sided with the old man.
And so much more. It's so very true. And needed by an awful lot of parents. And educators. And everyone in the media. And public officials. And..... well, I'm sure you can add your own.


"Yes Scout, everything is dangerous, nothing is ever your fault and anyone claiming you are anything less than perfect probably needs reporting to the authorities"

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Baby Einstein users - Disney offers you money back for being guillible parents



Baby Einstein is that horrible series of toys, videos, audio and other shite that promised that hot housing your children with their products would result in your little darlings being smarter, better children.

Well, surprise, surprise. It doesn't work. Of course it doesn't work. It would be incredibly stupid to think sticking your child in front of the TV to watch anything would increase brainpower at such a young age.
Yet the number of parents who fell into this horrible little marketing ploy was scary. Including, I'm sure, some of the parents amongst my friends.

Well now Disney (who bought the company a while back) are offering refunds for those parents who feel that they were let down by the promises of instant genius offered by something that, let's face it, was no more than a babysitting via TV service.

There's lots of these things out there, promising better babies, smarter children if only you would spend a small fortune on whatever piece of plastic tat they're flogging. I remember the first time I saw those horrible VTech things in the shops - play laptops for kids wouldn't be bad if they were just play (a modern equivalent of dress up, tool-kits and doctors sets) but I detest the way these things always had to have some spurious educational value attached - giving the idea that just playing wasn't good enough anymore.
And heaven forbid we actually sit our children down in an empty space or with an empty page and just let them use their bloody imagination.

And don't get me started on the Leapfrog book system - "The number 1 learn to read system".
Excuse me. Hold on a moment, but isn't the number one learn to read system having parents who are engaged enough to read books to you, smart enough to have books in the house and a public library system that you use regularly to instil a love of reading in your child?
Or is that just me?
We read to Molly every single night. Every night. The only nights we miss out on it are when she's not actually here (we figure that's a fair excuse). We can't understand parents that don't. And the Leapfrog system just seems like a horrible admission of "we can't be bothered reading to you/with you".

So, back to Baby Einstein. I know tht the easy excuse is to say that you never expected these things to turn little Tarquin into a genius, but that's not the point is it?

All of these brain boosting things, these learn to read systems, they all seem designed by horrible corporations to prey on the fear of modern parents about their children just not being good enough.
But it's not the corporations fault. It's the parents fault. The parents who never had any of these things that suddenly seem so essential, the parents who were allowed to play out, to get dirty, to be children.
Thankfully both Louise and I agreed early on that the way to make Molly smarter had nothing to do with buying the latest faddy parenting solution, had nothing to do with stealing her childhood away and tutoring her from 6 months old like some parents seem to want to do, but had everything to do with being parents, being there, reading, talking, listening.

Simple really.

Or maybe we're wrong. maybe buying your child everything you can to steal away their playtime, to steal their relaxing time, to steal their childhood is the answer.
In which case you don't need to get the refund from Disney for those Baby Einstein dvds you bought, because you and the corporations that prey on your fear and insecurities deserve each other.

Tuesday, July 07, 2009

Head Girl!!!!



She got it!

After finally putting herself forward (the story behind that is here) we went off to prize day today with fingers crossed for Molly to get the Head Girlship of her school.
And she did.
Not only that but she got the Netball prize as well. Both were complete surprises to everyone, as the results weren't known to the children beforehand. The head girl award was even voted on by the whole of Years 3-6 in what is meant to be a totally democratic vote. Or possibly as democratic as voting by children in a school ever gets I suppose.

Her reign as Head Girl begins in September. She gets a badge and everything. Very proud. Louise had tears in her eyes as Molly's name was announced. I just had one of those moments where I suddenly realised that in just one short year we'll be back at prize day for the last time and I'll be wondering where my little girl has gone and when she became the grown up young person off to secondary school far too quickly. This huge wave of sadness washed over me as I tried to imagine what it would be like at Bruton mansions with an older Molly. Then I got even more upset as I realised that eventually older Molly turns into left home Molly. Too horrible to think about for too long.

But we're such very, very proud parents right now. And being proud and responsible parents we let her stay up way past her bedtime and watch Torchwood. Then we spent 10 minutes trying to convince her to use her new powers and responsibilities to organise a flashmob in the playground tomorrow; all the children stand still and start chanting "we are coming.... we are coming". Being fr more sensible than us, Molly said that was stupid and she wasn't going to do it. Smart child.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Bicycle Girl at last!



Okay, on Wednesday we had a nightmare with the bike.

But we didn't give up. Instead, we headed off to a friends house and borrowed her bike, which has smaller wheels and she can put her feet flat on the floor. We got it yesterday and even on the way back, with Louise and I holding the handlebars either side, we could tell we were onto a winner.

So Sunday we head out to the car park of Burnby Hall & Gardens which has a long stretch of empty tarmac that should be enough to run up and down hanging onto the handlebars.

Brilliantly, just on the way down to the car park Louise lets go of her side of the handlebars and Molly stays on. I'm still holding on, but only just. By the time we made it to the car park she was doing so well. And after just a couple of runs she suddenly realises I haven't been holding on for a little while yet am still running alongside. (At this point, the comedy thing to do would be to fall off with the surprise. But thankfully she resisted going for the cheap laugh and just stopped).

It took another couple of runs and then she was off on her own, happily cycling up and down all afternoon. We even went as far as riding down to grandma & grandpa's house to show off to them.

Okay, it was criminally overdue and definitely something we should have done 4 years ago, but that doesn't make it any less wonderful. Another parenting milestone reached. We've now done that classic parent thing of holding onto the bike, running along with her and then just letting go. Such a metaphor for parenting in general. Have to go and dab my eyes. They appear to be watering

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Of bicycles and city girls....



Molly never learnt to ride a bike properly. Where we used to live in Birmingham learning to ride meant loading the bike with stabilisers into the car, driving a few miles to a park and having a ride. So she could ride, but not without stabilisers.

And when we moved house up here to Yorkshire the bike was too small so we passed it on to someone smaller and pledged to get a bike when we got sorted. Time passes and we manage to get a bike through a friend and then found no bloody time to get out and use it. To be fair the first six months we were busy. The first summer most of Pocklington was underwater and the rain never seemed to stop. But we are completely to blame since then. Sometimes the important things get left behind.

Fast forward to now and we've decided to teach her to ride a bike. So far not so good. Did the parenting thing and went to local empty car park and we tried, we really did. But 9 is just not the best age to do it. When they're young there's none of the same fears, stroppiness and general stubbornness we managed to get yesterday. Big, big falling out.

We try again tomorrow. Something to look forward to for the weekend.

Lesson to parents - get that 5 year old out to the park, take the training wheels off and when they fall off and bounce, think yourself lucky that they don't start screaming and shouting and threaten to walk off and call child line.

Okay, I exaggerated about threatening to call child line.

Sunday, January 04, 2009

My Birthday T-shirt



Useful for those moments at the school gates when I have a complete blank and have lost my voice. A wonderful gift from a wonderful little girl. She was so very excited about my birthday. It's quite strange really, because usually I don't get excited at all about the annual plus one to the age. But ever since Molly's been old enough to grasp the idea of other people's birthdays it's been really joyous. She enjoys getting presents more of course, but she still really enjoys handing them out.

Monday, June 16, 2008

Father's Day 2008

What a lovely day!
As I expected, awoken early by a noisy bundle of excited energy jumping on me and carrying a big carrier bag of presents.......

These are they. Obviously I knew about the ipod speakers, after all I did order them and help pay for them. But the photo frame, door hanger, badge and card were all her own work. And it was really lovely. If I hadn't been so bloody tired I may have cried.

(Dear My Lovely Daddy - that's bad grammar, but a gorgeous sentiment)

(My badge and the door hanger - specially adapted to read: "On the computer")

After pressies, it was breakfast and relaxing. And then more relaxing, which somehow led to more relaxing. Relaxing is nice. I should do it more often it seems.
In fact, we relaxed our way to tonight's treat, a meal out at our local Italian Pane e Vino followed by Doctor Who.

This has been a truly lovely weekend capped off by a great day.
All through it I've been reminded just why she's so very special and why I'm very, very lucky to be known as Daddy.
Thank you molly. x.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

What I did this weekend: flying teddy bears.

Instead of heading off to the Bristol International Comics Expo, this weekend I went off to watch several teddy bears fly down a zipline from the top of All Saint's Church in Pocklington.

It was the 4th annual Flying Man Festival. This is Pocklington's own little festival, one of those things that strated out as the church having a little fund raiser and now, 4 years later, has developed into an entire weekend of events based around the flying man of Pocklington: Thomas Pelling.

The Flying Man of Pocklington

There is a large church (All Saints) just off the town square in Pocklington whose foundations were laid by the Norman’s and was (still is) imposing enough to be known as the cathedral of the wolds. Its large square bell tower stands over 100 feet high and it was from this lofty vantage point that Thomas, in front of a large incredulous audience, would fly down a rope to the Star Inn, where he no doubt hoped to have a pint. The Star Inn used to be located in Market Square, unfortunately long since demolished.


Now, the exact details of the rigging of Thomas’s ropeway have been lost in time but it involved a windlass, a lot of rope, a secure anchorage point and several men. The time came for Thomas to fly, so with a short briefing to his men, which proved later to be totally inadequate, he climbed the bell tower stairs and out through the hatch on to the tower roof. He waved down to the crowds, climbed over the parapet, tied himself to the ropeway, gave the signal to his assistants and launched himself into the wide blue yonder!


Thomas didn’t make the pub; he didn’t even clear the church, due to a ‘misunderstanding’ with the men working the windlass, who could possibly have already been sampling the wares of The Star Inn! The ropeway became slack and Thomas was allowed to fly too fast and too low. With a sickening thud he flew straight into the battlements of the choir end wall and with a fractured skull he fell to his death!

Thomas Pelling “The celebrated Flying Man of Pocklington” was buried where he had fallen at the East End of the church on the 16th April 1733, a wall mounted plaque celebrates his memory.


The man was quite obviously an idiot, but we celebrate his idiocy every year now with children giving their bears over to the church, taken up to the top of the tower and flown down a zipline. Luckily, no bears are hurt in this endeavour since the technology has come a long way since Thomas tried it.

Saturday night saw balloons filling the skies of Pocklington as part of the celebrations, absolutely beautiful in the perfect summer dusk:



And then we woke up this morning to a blazing hot Sunday. The weather was absolutely gorgeous and as we headed for the church for the Flying Man Festival the big surprise was that the balloons were back; moored in the high street:



As usual, the highlight of the day was at All Saint's Church where the flying bears were launched off the top of the church at regular intervals. Molly spent a long time this morning trying to decide which of the 65 (yes 65!) cuddly toys she was going to launch into the air and there was even a spot of timely humour at the bear departure lounge:





Pocklington Post article, Town Council article,

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Post bedtime mood update

Well, Molly pushed all the right buttons tonight. We read Paddington and then she quite deliberately chose two books we both loved from when she was a little baby just to put me in a better mood.
Then lots of cuddles and snuggling down to sleep. An hour later, both of us fast asleep in her bed and I'm feeling better. No doubt tomorrow will be shit and I'll be stressing out like crazy again, but right now all is, if not good, then at least okay with the world.

Back to my real job.

Molly's been a joy tonight though.
Sadly, she's beginning to recognise when I'm down and becomes the best nurse in the world.

Currently she's in the bath.
Louise is out at church having holy communion lessons or something like that.
It's Molly's holy communion year this year and it involves Louise taking lessons of some sort in preparation. No idea what it entails. And don't really care.
Belief in God as a child is about as useful and valid as a belief in Santa or the Tooth Fairy to my mind and nothing I've experienced so far proves otherwise.
Of course, one benefit, particularly in inner city Birmingham where she started school, is a much better class of Primary School. And given the choice of the other primary schools or a bit of brainwashing courtesy of the catholic church I know which I'd choose.

Of course, in a year or so, when she starts asking the difficult questions, I've already warned Louise that all bets are off and I get to tell her the truth.

Time to get her out the bath.
Parenting, the best job in the world.

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Meccano - was it like this as a child?

Raining today. So no going out from Bruton mansions.
Instead we finally got out the Meccano set that mom and dad found in the cupboard at their house and brought up to us last week.
It was a huge Army Construction kit from way, way back when I was a little boy. Molly was really looking forward to it and had been pestering about it since mom and dad left. We proceeded to pick our model and started to build. And then I realised exactly why I never really bothered to make all of the models in the kit that I could. Because building Meccano is dull. Sorry, but it is.
I think Molly soon realised this but carried on just because we were playing and she enjoys that whatever we do.
But I ended up making far more of it than Molly did, all the time wondering if everyone my age thought the same of their Meccano sets they had as a child. Meccano may have been wonderful before things like plastic and television were invented but to be honest it just doesn't cut it in the modern day it seems.

However, after making her Army lorry, Molly found a perfect use for it:

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Free Range Kids vs Cotton Wool Kids.

Have been thinking recently about Molly growing up in this big, wonderful world and how wonderful it is.
Also been thinking about the recent Cutting Edge on Cotton Wool Kids shown on Channel 4 last week. And then found a link (via Boing Boing) to a new weblog called Free Range Kids which is all about battling the idea that every child needs round the clock protection and is constantly at risk from the evils of the world.

From the blog:
Do you ever...
..let your kid ride a bike to the library? Walk alone to school? Take a bus, solo? Or are you thinking about it? If so, you are raising a Free Range Kid! At Free Range, we believe in safe kids. We believe in helmets, car seats and safety belts. We do NOT believe that every time school age children go outside, they need a security detail. Most of us grew up Free Range and lived to tell the tale. Our kids deserve no less. This site dedicated to sane parenting.

Of course, Molly's coming 9 this year. Which means we're getting to that stage when she starts wanting to do stuff for herself. And although I don't think we're quite at the stage of letting her venture alone into a major city with just bus fare, I certainly wouldn't want to be on the other side of the debate where moms and dads are terrified to let the children out of their sight. Terrified to the extent that they brainwash their children into saying things like this:
"I like going shopping with my mum. Gotta stay close to her though. Because you never know who's out there."
Very shocking and desperately sad. We're careful to warn Molly about some things that she may encounter but this level of scare mongering just damages your child.

And the worst thing about it all: it's really not necessary. Do you really believe more children are abducted, abused or killed now than 20 years ago?
Or maybe it's just become another media crusade driven to new heights of sensationalism by competition to get the scariest message across.

To emotionally abuse a child to the point of psychologically scarring them merely to make them terrified of an event that's far, far less likely to happen than dying in a car crash. That's
just stupid.

Saturday, February 02, 2008

And tonight, instead of relaxing ...... it's the DS hunt..

Molly's off to bed when she asks me to charge up her DS overnight.
Sure thing darling, where's the charger?
Don't know says darling little daughter.

Cue an hour of turning the house upside down. No DS charger to be found.
Tomorrow morning we'll be looking in her room again.
Mommy and Daddy not happy. Molly not too happy either. Could be worse of course, could be the bloody DS rather than a £5 charger. But the point is the same.

And at this point I heard myself rattle off the same sorts of things that my Mom and Dad always used to about having some responsibility for your own things, how lucky you are to have so much, how you have to make sure you know where they are.......

Just scary really how the old adage is always true.
No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try to avoid it you still come out with the same rubbish that they always did.
Now I just feel old and shit.

Friday, February 01, 2008

Lolita - the bed for young girls?

Above: This is the sort of thing a children's bed should look like

Below: This most definitely isn't


I almost crashed this morning laughing in incredulity over this on the BBC when I heard it on the radio. Woolworths have just withdrawn from sale a set of bedroom furniture branded with the name Lolita

This is just the sort of modern stupidity you'd expect really, after WHS selling Playboy branded stationary for school children and BHS selling a range of padded bras and Little Miss Naughty undies for the under 10s.

I despair of the whole sexualising the under 12s phenomenon that goes on. The pursuit of the pre-teen dollar means companies go to increasingly ridiculous lengths to market increasingly innapropriate material to boys and girls everywhere. And the cult of celebrity is so prevalent that these children see some noted children's writer like Jordan and just start thinking it's acceptable.
And all over the world, parents just too stupid to really be responsible for themselves never mind the upbringing of their ever increasing brood of ASBO collecting devil spawn keep buying the stuff. One day they're down the town spending their hard-earned benefits of push up bras, crop tops and hot pants with "sexy" plastered over the backside and the next they're shouting loudly about pedofiles after their kids. (That was the spelling of the word on a wall in Birmingham I saw once and it's always struck me as indicative of the problem.)

But perhaps even worse is that it slipped by without notice. And the stupidity just gets worse from there: According to the Woolworths spokesman:
“What seems to have happened is the staff who run the website had never heard of Lolita, and to be honest no one else here had either. We had to look it up on Wikipedia. But we certainly know who she is now.”
Alternatively they could have just looked on their own bloody website and found the movie for sale there. But someone, somewhere knew what it meant. After all it's not the sort of thing that immediately comes to mind when naming a brand of children's furniture is it?

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

Back to Christmas Eve night ...... when last we talked Molly was asleep

When last I wrote about Christmas, I was all prepared to sneak into Molly's room with the stocking and a couple of presents. Everything was planned, all the other presents were under the tree, I had waited until Molly had taken her regular toilet break at 2am and she was fast asleep.

Or so I thought.
3am. I picked up the stocking and the couple of presents and peered into her room. Wide awake. Eyes wide open.
Drop the stocking back into the other room, then try to explain where the stocking's gone. My dubious possibilities were:
Maybe Santa's taken it with him, or he's moved it downstairs, or maybe he's downstairs even as we speak.
It probably helped that Molly wasn't completely awake because she seemed to buy these bloody awful excuses. But then she gets upset because she can't get to sleep and maybe Santa wont come.
30 minutes later and she's calmed down enough to try to get back to sleep
But of course, it's now 3:30am and I've got to wait at least another 30 minutes before she goes to sleep deeply enough to sneak aback into her room with the stocking.
Of course, it's not that easy and by now she's far too excited to get to sleep no matter how much she wants to. 4am comes round. 4:30am.

I give up and put the bloody stocking down into the lounge.
I figured I'd tell Molly that Santa must have decided she wasn't asleep enough but still wanted to leave her presents.

Come the morning and she's finally asleep so Louise takes a chance and drops the stocking in.
5 minutes later she's running into our room, unpacks her stocking with us and then leads her bleary eyed parents into the Lounge where she surveys the haul and tells us "that's more than he's ever brought me before!!!"
And later on that day she tells us that she thinks she saw Mummy dropping her stocking off. But how could that be, she ponders, when Mummy was in bed.

Despite this minor hiccup, we had a delightful, wonderful Christmas day.

But I have a feeling, a nagging worry, that this was a sign of things to come, that maybe she secretly knows that Santa isn't real. By next year I have the horrible feeling that she'll start asking far too many questions and not really believe the whole thing.
It's all part of growing up and she surely seems to be growing up far too quickly. It's something I realise that I don't have a lot of control over. But that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Bridlington adventures
or why I started worrying and forgot to enjoy the ride....

Went to Bridlington again a couple of weekends back. (wiki, tourist site).

For Louise and I it was an opportunity for a lovely stroll along a near deserted beach, listening to the waves crash into the shore. For Molly it was an opportunity to sample the delights of the fun fair.

After carefully vacuuming the money out of daddy's wallet, Molly started to try to decide which 2 rides she'd be allowed to go on. It sounds harsh, but we insist on not spending the entire time on the funfair, and want Molly to appreciate what she has right on her doorstep.

Molly doesn't quite see it that way. To her, Brid means funfair. Worse yet, because mummy doesn't do rides, it's down to me to go on them with her. I've never been particularly enamoured onf rides. I enjoy a good rollercoaster, but things like the Pirate Ship and anything that has a tumbling motion is horrible.

Guess what Molly's favourite ride is? This thing below. Called the Frog Hopper:This is just great. Starts off with you going backwards, lifts the arms up and then drops you as it spins. then shoots up, drops, up, drops. Over and over and over and over.
Then, after a sickening number of spins it stops and starts going forwards, drops, shoots up, drops, over and over and over.
It is horrible.
I've never been that great on this sort of ride. Ever since my first ride on the Pirate Ship at Alton Towers I've never like that up and down motion type ride. I much prefer the strap n and go feel of a roller coaster.

Worse is my thinking as I'm on this bloody thing. Since taking Molly on these things I've started to really worry about the safety of the rides. For example; on the Frog Hopper, you're held in by a car seat belt and a front lap bar which comes down over your headand locks on the side of the seat.
As we're rocketing round all I can think of is how little effort it would take for the bar to work itself loose from the locking mechanism. There we are, her loving the thing, me pulling nice faces for Molly's benefit, and all the while I have an image in my mind of how fucked we'd be if the bar lifted.

Yet another sign of age and parenthood and how it turns your brain into something you never wanted it to be.

Friday, September 14, 2007

School Gates Dad

Given that it’s a modern, caring, sharing, equal world we’re living in here, why is it that certain women see men as absolutely incapable, if not downright threatening and dangerous when it comes to looking after children?

Now I’m a very good dad. I know this because my daughter loves me very much and enjoys spending time with me.
I'm also pretty good with children of all ages. Or I hope I am, I've worked in schools for the past 12 years and genuinely enjoy the work so if I'm not good with children I'm probably in the wrong job.
In my circle of male friends a lot of us have children and to a greater or lesser degree, all of my friends are involved in the childcare.
And do you know what? somehow, despite not actually owning a womb, we manage to be quite good at it.

So why then, when I’m stood with the other parents (read that as moms) at the school gates do quite a large proportion of them look down their bloody noses at me?
Why then, given that it’s me that drops my child off at school and picks her up from school, do these same moms only ever come over when Louise is there as well?

Of course, even worse is the suspicious looks you always get around a school as a bloke. How bloody close minded do you have to be that every single man you see is a paedophile in your mind?
How can you possibly function?
Does this mean that every politician is a liar (no, wait, bad example)
Or every gay man naturally wants to sleep with your fat, smelly husband
Or that every teenager’s a yob in a hoody,
Every black kid wants to mug you?
Every asian bloke runs a corner shop?
Are you really as stupid as the Daily Telegraph tells you that you are?

You get the idea by now I’m sure.

It saddens me that fathers are almost an invisible presence in their children's lives. I know some men are shiftless, incompetent people who made terrible fathers. But just a look around you at the stupid Mother dragging her child along and shouting at it whilst holding her fag in one hand and her shopping in another should tell you that being a useless, incompetent parent is not an exclusively male attribute.

Tonight, Richard shall be in a pissy, overtired mood.
Tomorrow, probably the same.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Molly's 8th Birthday again .......


My little girl turned 8 at the weekend.

It's quite shocking how quickly 8 years can pass by when you're too busy getting on with things. She's grown so very fast and done so much even in these few years, it's terrifying. Now I have to imagine what the next 8 years will be like.
Because in another 8 years I'll have lost her. Not, of course, in the literal sense. Didn't someone once say that you don't own your children, you just borrow their lives for a few years until they leave?
But that's what I'm faced with thinking about now; the prospect of Molly turning 16. The prospect of 17, 18, leaving home, growing up. All too terrible to contemplate properly.

For some reason, 8 seems like a bit of a milestone. Possibly because in this last year she's become a lot more self-reliant and independent, possibly just because it's the half way point to her becoming 16. But it's come crashing down on me; this sense of loss and grief about her. Stupid really, because I'll always be Daddy, no matter what. But I just feel she'll never really be the little girl who cooed and gurgled in my arms ever again.

Each time she passes some milestone or other I'm continually fearful of how much I'll miss the stage just gone. But every time it happens I hardly have chance to think of what has been lost, being far too busy with enjoying what she's become instead.
I can look back to recall her baby days. How she used to smile that windy smile, fighting sleep until nearly collapsing, her head thudding on my chest as she finally succumbed.
Or the toddler days when she loved being swung around, or carried aloft on Daddy's shoulders.
Or the early school days, being so proud of how she'd make friends and how much fun we all had when we met them.

Now we're into the days when Molly the baby, Molly the toddler, Molly the tweenie and Molly the infant is but a memory. It's now Molly the junior; a lovely, polite, independent, occasionally stroppy, moody and incredibly interesting little girl. When we meet her friends she's more interested in them than she is in us. No longer do we play together, instead it's up to her room and us left downstairs, wondering what to do with our newly discovered spare time.

But no matter how grown up she becomes, no matter how independent, how old she is, one thing is certain: She'll always be my best achievement and will always be my little girl.
Welcome to your 9th year Molly.

She had a lovely birthday, friends and family were up from near and far. We awoke far too early and were dragged downstairs to witness the great present opening.
Although this year the presents were very thin on the ground.
Because this year she had a big present: After years and years of talking about it, she's finally got her DS.
In many ways this is a complete climb down on our part, seeing as we decided years ago to try to stop her becoming one of these children who seems to be surrounded by every possible technological revolution they can. These horrible children with a shocking pink dvd/tv combi always on the Disney channel in the corner, a computer to surf whatever they want and talk to lots of inappropriate chat buddies, a game console graveyard in the corner because stoopid parents buy whatever the latest hot console of the hour is and absolutely no books anywhere.

She certainly wasn't going to be the sort of child who spends every waking moment with their head embedded in their handheld console. You know the sort of child - they can be at the most spectacular event in the world and yet will spend more time watching some inane Japanese character on the screen than whatever the world can show them.

So we caved, and bought her one. It's not like it's a faddy present; she's been asking for one for many, many years now, ever since her friend Caleb got one. But as soon as we pointed out that Caleb saved up for his own and it means she'd not be able to spend her money on cuddley toys if she was saving up she seems to go off the idea.
But this year, whenever we enquired as to what she really, really wanted, the DS was top of the list. Every time we asked. Although, scarily, she also wants to put a Wiii on her Christmas List; after all, as she so considerately points out, if we buy her the DS for her birthday, it will be alright to ask for a Wiii for Christmas because we don't buy it, Father Christmas makes it. How the hell do you reply to that one?

And it's about bloody time too Daddy.

Of course, one unexpected benefit of getting the DS means we suddenly have a new punishment to threaten Molly with: the DS ban. Genius. Almost makes it worthwhile.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

Father's Day


Molly and I were talking the other day and I realised an unbelievable thing:
No matter how long I live, no matter what I do, I will never love anyone or anything as much as I love my daughter.

And today was the day where that simple idea was perfectly realised. Today was my favourite day of the year, today was Daddy's Day. (We've always called it that and it's stuck).

Today was the day where I got to have a great time enjoying just how much my daughter loves me. It was absolutely wonderful.
Of course; i knew everything i was getting; Molly's always been awful at keeping presents secret. In the Co-Op the other day she pointedly stood by the father's Day display and asked me if i thought the big chocolate "Best Daddy" medal looked tasty. Surprise, surprise, i was wearing it at 8am this morning.
Or when she and Louise were in the kitchen the other day making stuff and she comes out looking all worried and asks me whether I'd use a saucer if I had one. That's my new coffee cup (& saucer) then.
Other treats included: more chocolate, a clay model of me - big smile and spiky hair, an "I Love You Daddy" clay stonecuddling up on the sofa this afternoon to watch Pirates of the Caribbean 1, pizza tea (chosen by Molly, because "it's daddy's favourite tea") and then finally cuddling up on the sofa again to watch tonight's great Doctor Who.

A very good day. And a very loved Daddy.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Blue Peter's got nothing on us......

Today was brought to me by the words "so" "fucking" and "tired". On wondering why, earlier tonight Louise calmly pointed out that not bloody sleeping and sitting up till all hours of the night doing shit like this could possibly be the answer.
Nah......

Anyway, today at work I was tired.
Picking Molly up from school I was tired. Getting in and getting ready for Brownies (Molly, not me, Brown and yellow - so not my colour) tired. You get the idea.
One great thing we did have to do tonight was do Molly's homework. This term in Science she's doing Habitats. Their homework was to make a habitat for something. I hate this sort of homework. Give me a worksheet any day. This required thought and even worse, practical work as well.
Luckily for us all Molly is animal mad at the moment and I am clever. So between her wanting to do a wild animal habitat and me being a lazy bastard we narrowed it down to the two animal that I thought would make the easiest models. Penguin and Panda.

Our trip round town today yielded Toothpicks, Crepe paper, Lolly sticks and Gift tags. From those ingredients it took us a mere hour to put together this masterpiece: