Last February, A was just coming up to her 2nd birthday and saying two-word phrases at most. Her preference was for individual utterances.
Today, a month from turning 3, A made this statement, while looking at CDs.
I don’t want to dance to the Sugarcubes, I want to dance to the Ting Tings!
How time flies…
We always think that we learnt nothing from school, don’t we?
Well, tonight I discovered that some things do stick. I got home to discover that Ava can now roll her tongue.
The conversation went like this:
C: Well, you and I both can, so of course she’ll be able to
Me: No, that’s not true. It’s an example of discontinuous variation
Yup, the fact that Ava can roll her tongue has nothing to do with genetics.
I actually felt quite smug. Next, I’ll be remember what caused the Liberal Party’s fall from power in the 1920s. Answers on a postcard, anyone?
Charlotte Church is reported to be fuming that Myleene Klass has called her newly-born daughter Ava, claiming it was her idea.
The Welsh warbler has been conspicuous by her absence from the world of celebrity in the past few months, while Myleene worked right up till the last minute, going into labour directly after presenting BBC’s The One Show.
The reason I find this story both amusing and pathetic is twofold. Firstly, you can hardly lay claim to a name, even in the world of celebrity and even if you’re Charlotte Church.
Secondly, Charlotte Church clearly didn’t get their first with ‘Ava’. Admittedly, it’s not the most popular name, but that was exactly why we called our daughter Ava almost 18 months ago.
Back then, we were pleasantly surprised by everyone’s reaction to the name (you can tell if people don’t like it) and were slightly perplexed that many weren’t exactly sure who Ava Gardner was (the inspiration for the name).
If Myleene’s daughter grows up to be even mildly famous, at least our little one can say to friends: “I got there first!”
One of the things you quickly learn as a Dad is the importance of various toys in your children’s lives. Losing one, or indeed any part of it, can be as big as trauma as most children have experienced.
Think how you’d feel if your favourite watch, your wallet or a childhood memento went missing. or was stolen and you get the point.
Earlier this week, we journeyed to Brighton for a couple of days. We stayed in a lovely boutique hotel called The White House and blagged some free passes to the Sealife Centre.
A couple of hours beforehand, Ceri had bought a new toy for Schmoo, a cute black cat, which she was instantly taken with.
We headed for the Aquarium and were about halfway round, when I realised that the cat had vanished. I hurriedly retraced steps through the Centre but to no avail. No-one had handed it in at reception and the coffee stand man could only point us in the direction of a tiny, unlikely-looking feeding point.
A similar blank was drawn there, until a kid piped up: “Oh, was it a black toy? I saw it on a table over here.”
He led us to said table, at which four foreign students were sitting. “It was this table,” confirmed the kid, and his mum confirmed this from her own vantage point.
There was nothing there, though. “I’m sure it was here,” said the boy. Suddenly, one of the students reached into his zipped-up rucksack, sitting on the floor, and pulled out the toy.
We were to glad to see it, that our dismay at someone trying to pocket what was clearly a child’s toy was tempered slightly. The cheek of it – it’s a kid’s toy, not a student’s plaything. What was he going to do? Perform experiments on it.
Clearly, we were glad to get the cat back, but irritated beyond belief by the actions of an unthinking youth.
Oh, and we gave the other kid a couple of quid, as a reward/thank you. He looked well chuffed!
