First taste of hot chocolate..

A cold and grey day today - Rob was off at choir practice for the Christmas services, so Fred and I visited one of the local coffee shops with a friend and her six-month old daughter; there, Fred had his first ever hot chocolate. It was a hit - he loved sticking his finger into the froth on the top and licking it clean, eating the froth with a spoon, licking the bottom of the straw, and drinking the delicious contents, both with the straw and from the cup itself. It was good hot chocolate - dark chocolate, rather than the usual horribly sweet stuff you can get. The calories in that made up for Fred's lunch, which he'd refused - pork fillet, fantastic, but a bit too tough for him to chew, and he was rather tired - he had a two hour sleep at lunch and really didn't want to wake up. I guess he's growing; all this sleep, and all this food - breakfast has been a bowl of porridge, half a banana, and one-and-a-half weetabixes, several breadsticks at creche, not much for lunch, a cup of hot chocolate and a brownie instead of lunch, supper was the pork fillet chopped up fine with assorted vegetables including potatoes, rice, one and half frankfurters, several handfuls of cheese, a piece of cake and half a bowl of yoghurt with grated pear. Phew. I feel full just thinking of it. He's grown out of a handful of clothes seemingly overnight.

When we got back Fred insisted, as usual, on being allowed to play with the real steering wheel in the car and switch all the hazard lights on and off, reset the radio, fiddle with the gearstick, tweak the radio and the mirrors, and inadvertently beep the horn several times during manoeuvres (I fear the neighbours will soon lose patience...) - he does love this game! He is also very keen on helping us build the daily fire in the woodburning stove, and has got over his frustration at not being allowed anywhere behind the fireguard. He still can't make the "f" sound, but his copying is getting very good; he can have a good stab at most two-syllable words these days, and can string a couple of words together - we clocked him saying "oh dear" when BaaBaa fell off the table, he can say get out, stand up, etc.

Fred is introduced to his potty, with surprising results

We went to Mothercare today and bought a few things; some magnetic fridge letters (now spelling out Freddie, Mummy and Daddy - cue much categorisation, all the d's all the m's all the blue letters etc) , some bath letters and bath crayons (for the advent house), some sunglasses (a futile attempt to persuade him not to play with our glasses) and two potties.

We put one of the potties in the bathroom, just thinking to introduce Freddie to it and get him used to the idea - but to my great surprise he decided to actually sit on it, and to my even greater surprise, actually used it - I'm sure you can picture his pride at doing a wee-wee in his potty. (I 'm not planning on potty training yet; I have two weeks off over Christmas to get to grips with it, but on such evidence it may be easier than I've feared..)

(Sunday update - His early success has not been repeated, but he's still enthusiastically sitting on it before his bath.)

A to do list...

.. once my exam is over..

finish knitting Fred's new cardigan (which was started last winter and hasn't been picked up since)
buy curtains for the family room
make cushions for the sofa
potty train Fred
organise Christmas (which is at our house this year)
find 25 things for the advent house Granny (Tuff) gave Fred
get Fred out of sleeping bags and into a duvet (he's nearly too tall for them and is having to sleep curled up)
finish kitchen
do an audit at work
find out if it matters that part of the woodburning stove's plasterwork has fallen down
persuade Fred to feed himself which he is perfectly capable of doing and not insist on being fed
read Percy the Park Keeper and play with Mr Potato Head over and over again..

and enjoy lovely moments such as this...

Return home

Rob is home - and he and Fred got straight down to important business - car games, as you can see. He got home late last night; to find Fred and I in a state of semi-undress; Fred's supper had made an unwelcome reappearance. I am very grateful for the existence of BaaBaa and Rupert, as talking to them and replying on their behalf is enough to persuade Fred to do what I want him to; "do you want to go back to bed, BaaBaa? Yes? Rupert? Yes? Fred?" - cue a giggle and a "yeah" and a smooth transition back to bed and to peaceful sleep despite the disruption.

I went to the church playgroup toy sale today; it was quite the scrum, but I and a couple of friends fought our way through and emerged unbruised, and happy with our haul; for me it was mainly jigsaws and word-based games, a puppet theatre for the future, and this:

Is Fred on the cusp of reading?

We have begun to wonder if Fred is showing some signs of understanding that the black squiggles on a page have a meaning that corresponds to a word. The other day Rob was reading him a book that had a page about the moon on it, and asked Fred where the moon was - he pointed first of all to the moon in the sky of the picture, and then pointed to the word "moon". I didn't believe him when he told me about it, but the next day I was reading Fred the same book and again, Fred pointed to the word moon. This could just be a fluke, so the next day I read him another, different, book that didn't have the word "moon" in the text, but did have a moon on the page, this time Fred pointed to the moon itself, and then pointed to the word "MOO" that was indeed part of the text (a book about a farm). I'm not sure what this means; but it seems that Fred has begun to recognise that the black squiggles he sees on the page bear a correlation to the pictures on the page.
Interesting. I suppose it's not impossible.

Rob is away at the moment on a nutrition course, Ro is here for a couple of days to help out; which makes things so much easier. Apart from the odd moment of calling "dada" when his teeth are brushed (Rob does it every night) and when he enters the house, Fred doesn't seem to have been especially bothered by his father's absence.

Proof of the hat wearing..
Don't you think he looks grumpy?

Politically Correctness.. er, not in our house, whoops

There is a toy in Pops and Granny's house that is African and is commonly known by the term that Carol Thatcher got into trouble for (am trying to avoid search engines finding the blog, hence coyness about it). Unfortunately Fred has learned the word for it, so he is not a PC child any more. He spent most of lunch time in his cot chatting happily away to the toy; fortunately he can only say the first two syllables and we won't remind him what the third one is!
Other highlights of the weekend with Pops and Granny; nearly all the family were there and the single missing member rang up. Fred made a good attempt at saying "Roland" (RoLo) and "Philippa" (Pilpa) which was jolly pleasing for them, and not so pleasing for Granny as he still can't quite manage her name!
Pops worked miracles and got Fred to wear his hat all through the fireworks, and that seems to have done the trick as he happily wore his hat for an autumnal stroll on his trike with his aunt/uncle/granny/mummy.

We think he can sort of read - well, at least recognise a set of squiggles as meaning the same as a word. More later.

A Yoruba Wedding

I am very behind on my blogging; so this will be bullet point! This last weekend we were in Oxford for a joyous Nigerian wedding of an old medical school friend, that was very bright, very noisy, very full of colour and very long and rather delightfully chaotic. The time on the invitations was half-an-hour early, to ensure the Nigerians got to the church on time (hence the front rows were all full of white faces as they turned up on time!) There was gospel singing, dancing in the aisles, dancing and chanting on the way to the top table, marvellous Yoruba headdresses, and a happy reunion of old friends.
Some recollections of the day;
- a strong smell of moth balls (from all the best clothes and headdresses being got out of storage)
- the whole church swaying and rocking and clapping to the singing, especially a song called I"m Still Standing (which brought most of the Africans into the aisle for stamping and shouting)
- the vicar had been the incumbent for 52 years and the toilets were as old as his tenure (he had them put in when he arrived and was now collecting for their updating)
- the "call to the high table" took an hour - the bride's parents were escorted, singing and chanting and dancing, to the top table by all the Nigerians; followed by the groom's UK "parents", the best man, the chief bridesmaid, one by one, each with their own singing and dancing (one of the musics chosen was Justin Timberlake, says Rob), and then finally the bride and groom (which you can see in the photos)
- texts from Pops who was looking after Fred while Granny was out at a meeting and we were at the wedding - they'd both fallen asleep on the sofa, the fireworks were amazing and F just kept saying "more, more" whenever there was a pause, he was happily asleep
A good day.

Bang bang!

Remember remember the fifth of November.. we did, and had a jolly good time at a friend's house with a pile of Rob's old mates. I tried very hard to get a hat onto him; the longest it remained on his head was a few seconds, even when I knotted the under-chin-ties together. Hats and Fred together do not go. I suspect mittens and gloves will also pose a challenge..
There were bangers and spuds to eat, lots of children of all ages, and a great collection of sparklers, Catherine wheels and rockets. It all kicked off about seven in the evening so Fred was already a bit tired by the time we got there, and I wasn't sure how he'd react to the popping and banging and screeching, as well as lots of strangers. However, he soon located the toy cars, and the Brio train set, and a bowlful of chestnuts to re-arrange all over the sofa, so he quickly settled down and when the fireworks began he was delighted; trying to touch the sparklers, saying "ire" whenever he saw the fire, and following the rockets with his eyes and fingers. Rob heard him say "rocker" for rocket, and there was a lot of "bang bang" too. The only noise that seemed to bother him was the screeching sound of some of the rockets, but he was easily comforted, and said "more" when it was all over. When we finally got him to bed he sighed wearily and fell asleep in seconds. Hopefully he is having very happy sparkly colourful dreams.
This morning he was saying "tower" as we built one during his breakfast, and "oh dear" when he knocked the tower down and the pieces went all over the floor! It's very hard for me to understand what he's saying as small children are virtually impossible to lipread.. I'm relying on Rob for most of this information. The context helps, especially if I've pointed to something and asked him "what's that?" I hope that as he gets better at talking I will get better at lipreading.

choo choo! chug chug!

I am delighted - we have found a huge set of Brio road and rail tracks with lots and lots of extras for a bargain price... that's Fred's Christmas present (and Rob's) sorted!

They are dredging the pond near the old watermill (for grinding knives in the old days) near our house and the park is full of diggers, so while I was at work, Rob and Fred spent a good few hours watching the activity and anticipating water rather than mud in the pond and a working wheel again by the summer :-) Rob took this photo of Fred on his phone while they were out; Fred seems to think that sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth is the funniest thing ever.

Slow progress with the talking; just one word at a time, and usually needing encouragement to say it or copy us.. Hard not to worry when I hear of children the same age as Fred (three weeks older in this case) being able to sing the whole of "It's raining, it's pouring" the whole way through. That said, I think he's trying to say "stand up" when he's lying on his changing mat. No end of happy babbling and chattering, unintelligible, but there seems to be meaning to his babbling rather than just sound; talking to his teddies, talking to us, we just can't understand. Sometimes I feel guilty that I am working; if I was at home seven days a week talking to Freddie one on one would he be a bit further on?

Tea for three

These photos are fairly self-explanatory. Fred had a teaparty for BaaBaa and Rupert the other day; and now has them every day. He thinks that drinking from cups is for wimps. He prefers to drink straight from the pot. He even gave his godmother lovely Sal a cup over Skype this evening and kissed the screen when she said byebye. He's in a very cuddly mood these days; flinging himself into our arms for hugs, embracing his teddies, etc etc.

Other news; our new dryer is now up on the landing ceiling, hurrah! I am hoping this means less ironing, and I have discovered what a great place the Central Library in town is. A friend of Fred's has a picture encyclopedia which I wanted to try him with; and we had to go to the BIG library to get it; the selection of books there is huge and so much better than our little suburbian library; there are small armchairs, lots of child-sized (literally) cuddly toys, and best of all, lots and lots of books on trucks and diggers and planes and trains. We came back with the encyclopedia - brilliant, and a large armful of new books. Fred's current favourites (apart from the encyclopedia, which he loves) are a book on dinosaurs and a noisy tractor book. Clearly a little boy!