Colour blind no more

I remember an anti-racism poster when I was younger which featured a row of babies of all different ethnicities lying together and the caption suggesting that it was only amongst these tiny babies that colour blindness really exists.
The advert obviously resonated with me and whilst I hope never to be seen or thought of as a racist In any way, shape or form, I won't claim that I don't see colour. The society I grew up in, albeit cosmopolitan and international was still one where the colour of your skin was an identifier.
I've often looked at Alby over the past few years with admiration for how lovely it must be to be truly colour blind. To refer to people by how fast they run, how many dragons they can fight, how polite they are or how quickly they eat rather than turning to skin colour to describe a friend. (I won't pretend Alby's rural English nursery offers the variety of backgrounds found in London but it's not a total sea of white thank goodness.)
But now those days are gone. For the past few days Alby has made random comments about the colour of people's skin. No embarrassing stories to report of inappropriate comments in the supermarket or anything but a few words here of there that show my little man is no longer as innocent as the babies in the poster.  "Our cousins have the same skin colour as us."  "Why in the olden days were all English people white?"
Obviously having studied anthropology at university I am well equipped to tackle such questions and statements perfectly! Yeah right. Sadly I stumble through my answers most of the time wishing that my words will return me to a racially blind bliss and fearing that in some unintended way they will actually do the opposite (who knows where a conversation with a toddler will take you). Whatever the outcome will be it turns out that by 4 years old you no longer qualify for the poster. Maybe I should be impressed. Perhaps  two hundred years ago not even those poster babies would have been coloured blind. I don't know. But I can't say I'm not a little saddened that the innocence on that one has started to go. I know I can't turn back time but how I wish I could, for all of us on this one.

Four years of The Bug

Yesterday my little man turned four. Gone are the days of being "three and three quarters" he is now four and bloomin' proud of it. Bless him and his cotton socks. Or more accurately bless him and his bare feet.
He's had a good birthday and it's not over with yet. The celebrations started on Friday with the Halloween party at nursery. On his actual birthday he woke to a house of decorations, Frosties for breakfast (something he's been looking forward to since August) and a good selection of new toys (with prize for best gift going to Auntie Katie for her formula one remote controlled car). The morning dog walk past Tesco included a free face painting (green monster) and then he headed off with daddy to a friend's party. Next stop a quick costume change and out for his first ever trick or treating outing where our neighbours did us good. Plenty of pumpkins and fellow trick or treaters out and about reminding us we do live in a community and a friendly community at that. Conscious of how quickly his bucket filled up with sweets we had to bypass a number of houses for fear of ending up with two years worth of lollipops and candies.
Back home to bed and more celebrations today with Alby's grandparents coming over for Sunday lunch (fish pie at Alby's request) and a misty walk up the hill. As it turns out being four is really hard work and the little man crashed out on the sofa after lunch only being roused by promise of birthday ice cream - soft scoop vanilla in a cone with smarties and a candle in the middle.
Alby went in the back pouch for the first part of the walk and I carried him. It's been a long time since I last carried him for that long and up hill and my goodness he has grown. My thighs were killing. Thankfully his legs had energy again for the flat and downhill parts and once a suitable stick was found the ninja boy was off and away.
Next week we've got his birthday party and so the fun continues as it should do - he's an awesome little fella. Yes he has his moments but they are usually down to my mummy fails than him (a hard truth but a truth nonetheless and something I need to remember each day). He is a good kid, a great kid,  and celebrating the moment that the world changed from not having Alby in it to having Alby in it seems obvious. I love him. All four years of him.

Happy birthday my Halloween hug bubble

Let the record show I do not approve

George started crawling when he was five months and one week old. First we had rolling and I was fine with that. Soon after he worked out how to get onto all fours and again I was okay with that. But then he started moving. He'd rock and stretch and lose balance a topple and squirm but slowly he started moving forwards. Then the muscles got stronger and the coordination improved. Unlike Alby he never went backwards instead he's come up with this bunny hop technique with his legs propelling him forwards when he gets tired. He hasn't totally mastered it yet and the effort can wear him out but he' reached the six month milestone having learnt to crawl before he could properly sit up and I do not approve.

And then on Thursday, the day he turned six months, I disapproved some more when he mastered sitting up unaided. I remember sitting a lot with Alby helping him to get his balance in those early months so he wouldn't just face plant but I can't claim the same memories with George. He's basically sorted it out himself. He worked out how to tuck his legs under him and push back when crawling to get into the sitting position and over the past week has become increasingly upright so now he sits fine. And I do not approve.

I went to a wedding yesterday where there was a little girl two weeks older than George who can't sit at all let alone crawl. That I fully approve of. Time moves too quickly anyway without George rushing it along little goblin.

Of course we've had a good number of accidents with this early learning silliness. In the past week he crawled off the bed (my bad really for leaving Alby to supervise for the two minutes I turned my back on them both) he rolled against a hot pipe and burnt his skin, he got trapped under the bunk beds, the tv unit and his swing seat and has banged his head in every possible corner in the house. I guess I should claim a silver lining in the fact that all the bumps give me extra cuddle time but I'm afraid I'm too busy disapproving.

A spoonful of Alby...

Mary Poppins called for a spoonful of sugar, for others it's all about chicken soup for the soul. To get a smile on my face I just need a little time with my boys.

There's Percy with his down ears, wagging stump, play bows and random bashy paw. He is so cute it's no wonder we were stopped by an artist the other day who wanted him as her model (I obviously said yes).
There's Mark who knows how to enjoy every day and how to be nice to those around him better than anyone else I know. Mark, who finds himself the funniest man around, especially today it would seem when he laughed at his own hilarity about ten times in just a few hours.

And then there's the little ones.

George my cute, adorable,cheeky little baby whose face lights up when he smiles. George who just this week learnt how to sit up unaided (rather then toppling to the side or showing off his yoga moves getting head to floor with legs outstretched).  Who can now crawl all around the house and who is as pleased as punch with himself for such even with the occasional bunny hops or topples thrown in.  George who had his first taste of solids on Thursday (apple slices) followed promptly with baby rice making a mess I had forgotten was possible.

And finally Alby. My daily (sometimes hourly) spoonful of sugar.

Alby was watching a film the other day and came away from it with the saying "you mess with him, you mess with me." Not very cute or funny when spoken out loud by me but have an almost four year old say it whilst gesticulating wildly with both hands and you discover your day is now complete.
Alby who learnt that in America they call 'Autumn' 'fall' because that's when the leaves fall and who responded with "yes, and they don't call it golf in America they call it molf. No. No actually mummy they call it hitter". Alby who is very excited about his upcoming "formally one" party but hopes all the children understand that it will be very loud as racing cars are very loud. Alby who loves to sing / scream along to the most cheesiest of Disney songs in the car with me and then concludes by saying "we're very clever aren't we mummy."  Yes Alby, yes we are.

Educating Alby

Educating Alby at the Hawk Conservancy

The two most overused words in the English language, in my humble opinion, are “it’s complicated”.  These two innocent little words get banded about by adults all the time as an excuse not to get things done or not to have to explain themselves.  “It’s complicated” isn’t an answer to anything – it’s a get out of jail card to cover the fact that the individual is either stupid or lazy. 

So deep is my frustration of this term that I make a conscious effort not to use it in any of my conversations, especially those with Alby. 

Let’s not go pretending that this decision has in anyway made life easy for me.  It’s led to some very interesting questions about religion:  “why didn’t God just put everyone in prison [instead of flooding the earth]?”  And some interesting conclusions too: “I’m going to have my birthday party at Stonehenge and share a birthday cake with the God of the Sun.  But the Sun will be too hot so it has to stay in the sky and can’t have a balloon.”  And it hasn’t always had the result I’ve been after.  I’ve recently been talking to Alby about where his food comes from in hope that my vegetarian diet may rub off on him.  He is clearly is father’s son however as he informed me yesterday that “my favourite food is killed pig because I love ham and that’s killed pig.”  For anybody questioning my profession, no I am not a teacher and I think we can all see why.

Alby and mummy head to head (with ice cream - good brain food)

Every now and then however the extra time to tackle any question reaps its rewards.  Like when Alby walks into the kitchen to announce “gravity is a force on the earth that you can’t see that stops us from floating away” (although his Isaac Newton role play with Grandad still needs a bit of work with Alby messing up his line “Eureka! Gravity” and instead pointing at Brooks whilst shouting “Your gravity”.)  Or more simply when he understand the importance of recycling and not wasting food or water, not filling up on junk food or Mark’s favourite, when he chants “you’ve got to tidy as you go” every time we cook together (a lesson I have yet to learn).

Yes sometimes the request of “let’s talk about prison” or “let’s talk about war” can be tiring.  But he listens, he’s interested, he engages and soon we’ll manage to shift his attention onto another topic. 

Not quite genius material just yet!

And then there are those times when regardless of how much time and effort you have put in to explain a topic you get thwacked in the face with the reality that you are dealing with a mind that is still very much a work in progress.  That the brain isn’t complete yet, that the pathways aren’t all developed and that logic doesn’t come into play for another year or so.

It’s these times when I realise that no matter how much time I put aside educating Alby isn’t always a success.  Those days when he tells me that I’m wrong and Everest isn’t actually tall.  Or when he tells me that giants are taller than Everest.  Or that Everest is the second biggest mountain in the world.  Beverst is the tallest.

On other days he’ll tell me all about Lewison Hamilton and Bastian Vettell having a Formally One race (he’s close to the proper answer on these ones) and then goes completely off track with talk of Benson Button and his twin brother Menson Button in their space car that’s faster than a concord because it can go at twenty-one two which is the biggest number.

Ah well, at least educating Alby isn’t complicated.  Ridiculous, frustrating, hilarious and exhausting?  Yes.  But complicated – nah. 

And when Alby starts educating George?  Well, that's when the fun will really begin, 

See the little Goblin…

See his little feet.  See his little nosey wosey, isn’t the Goblin sweet?

Goblin!

Earlier this week Mark renamed George as Goblin.  At four months he is this cute, smiling, gabbling, shrieking, head wobbling, rolling, grumbling goblin. He’s not quite as big as Alby was at this age but he has acquired a big Buddha belly and plenty of fat rolls along his legs and arms.  He smiles with his whole face, his chin touching his chest when he is at his most happy. He is a goblin. 

He started rolling over a few weeks ago (Monday 20 July at the soft play to be exact).  In typical baby fashion it happened when I wasn't looking and wasn't repeated for another few days but now he can’t stop himself.  Also in typical baby style he hasn't learnt to roll back yet so keeps getting stuck, getting tired and then starts shouting until he is rescued. Normally by Mark or myself but let’s not pretend that big brother hasn't offered his help on occasions, such as earlier this morning when I walking into the living room to find Goblin lying on top of Albug.  That is absolutely not how I left him!

Why stay on your mat when you can roll off and end up with handfuls and mouthfuls of grass?

I do find it quite ridiculous – you put George on the floor and he almost instantly rolls.  To begin with he's happy, unhooks his arm, looks around and sometimes even manages to squirm about a bit by kicking his legs.  And then he gets tired and starts shouting and you save him by rolling him back and before you've stood up he has rolled again and is having a good shout.  It takes 80 repetitions to teach a bulldog a new trick but goblin is making Percy looks positively genius with his refusal to learn not to roll over if it’s only going to make you shout.

I haven’t got round to videoing our little chat sessions yet but I really must as they make me smile so much.  He’s like a little monkey as he oohs and tries to mimic your facial expressions and make new sounds.  Alby loves it when George talks, giggling madly and running over asking “what are you talking about Chatty McChatsterble?” He often becomes a bit over excited, getting right in George’s face but bless him, the little fella doesn't seem to mind and there are times every day when I'm so grateful for having Alby to help teach and entertain George: today I needed to finish unpacking from out holiday and had George propped up on the pillows on the bed hoping he wouldn't get too bored too quickly.  In comes Alby who then does various forward rolls / random throwing himself from one corner of the bed to the other and George was mesmerised.  He sat there for a good fifteen minutes dribbling down his stomach, head moving from one side of the bed to the other as he tracked his crazy brother around.

The best thing about little Goblin is Goblin with daddy.  Mark missed out on loads during the early months with Alby. Playtimes were often cut short by him having to pack or unpack and it interrupted things.  Seeing Daddy with his Goblin makes my heart smile.  And there’s something really lovely that I actually find myself missing George during the day because he’s spending so much time with daddy.  

Snuggled in and fast asleep

I always wanted us to be equal parents and the summer holidays give Daddy the chance to really be there with his boys and the pay off is immediate – not always with Alby who becomes a little bugger at times when he is tired (being three can be hard) but Goblin is easy and all love.  And Mark gets to be involved in all sorts of George firsts that I'm not always sure he did with Albs, like yesterday when he sorted Goblin out for a doorway bounce (and dribble). 

First bounce

You'll never hear me say that being a mother is easy.  Being a good wife isn't always easy either.  (And I'm sure being a daddy and a husband is just as hard) but I wouldn't swap my Bug, my Goblin and my Love Love for anything.  Just look at them all; their so sweet.

My goblins

Stabilisers are for sissies

For the past week the Beebe family has been praising the brilliance of balance bikes.  Well actually we’ve been praising their brilliance for the past 18 months.  Alby’s bike means he can keep up on every dog walk and it keeps him challenged and entertained – as witnessed last weekend at the Rundle Cup when Alby went kamikaze down the steep bank squealing for delight.

Just before George was born Alby broke the back wheel of his balance bike, Runner.  Mark stepped in with Daddy DIY and seven cable ties and a generous application of gorilla glue later the wheel was saved.  Realising that Alby cycles around 10 – 15 miles a week and that Runner, a £25 bike from Lidl, probably wouldn’t last much longer had us quickly searching through the internet for a replacement.  And a good job too as just a few weeks later a downhill race ended with Alby in a hedge, leaves in his hair, dirt on his shorts and a very sad expression on his face: “I was just looking backwards to see you and I went crash.”

I think it is fair to say that Alby regarded Runner as a true friend.  When we first discussed the idea of getting a replacement balance bike he started crying, Runner was just too important.  Thankfully he’s a resilient young chap and his new balance bike (which, showing an untypical lack of imagination for Alby, he has called Runner) has been warmly welcomed – helped no doubt by the existence of a stand “just like motorbikes have”.

And then, Mark’s assistant at work came in the other day with a pedal bike with stabilisers her children and have grown out of in case Alby wants it. And yes he does!  It’s red and has “Fire Chief” written across it which makes it super cool with or without pedals.  And so we tried him on it and he struggled. It’s heavy and turning was really difficult and he got frustrated.  So Mark took the stabilisers off and the boy is a natural. He needs the tiniest bit of help getting started and then there’s no stopping him.  I’ll say it again, balance bikes are brilliant.  No way would he be able to do this without all the practice he’s had on Runner. 

And obviously I’m just swelling with pride for my awesome little man.  Love him to pieces. 

And for the record, Alby is thrilled with himself too.  Every time he sees the stabilisers in the back garden he says "I don't need those mummy.  I don't need stabilisers.  I don't need them."