The day I forgot I had a child

Sunday was a big day of parental embarrassments, which I am only sharing because, well, I always thought I would never be THAT parent, and now I am and let it be a warning to others.

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Parenting Fail Number 1

When we were at church that morning, I asked a friend to look after Luciole for the few minutes it takes to leave Little Girl in crèche. I got back and sat down and started to listen to what was going on. I think it took me quite a few minutes to realise something was missing and that I had another child in the building somewhere. Turns out she was just a couple of rows down in my friend’s arms and I had walked past her to get to my seat…

Parenting Fail Number 2

This conversation, which took place between my hairdresser friend and Little Girl, was recounted to me when I picked the girl up at the end of crèche.

Hairdresser Friend: so, Little Girl, I am coming to your house tomorrow to cut your hair.

Little Girl: That’s great! Then I can see!

Hairdresser Friend: Would you like to see?

Little Girl: Yes please!

…..

Yes, it had been a long time since her last haircut. Yes, I am a terrible parent.

Disclaimer: I have had to give her a fringe because she would rather not see than wear hair accessories. I have tried countless time to put it back for her and she has refused or taken the clip off within 5 seconds of having it on. However last time I cut her fringe, it was carnage so we’re getting professional help from now on as it’s quite clear I cannot cut in a straight line. But it is true that I did wait too long and she has been having trouble seeing for a little while…

The infamous fringe may have been a little longer…

 

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Is this…the funniest Christmas song ever?

Today, I give you my new favourite funny Christmas song, beating all previous contestants including the family favourite ‘When A Child Is Born’ by Johnny Mathis. It’s funny for the wrong reasons but I don’t care, it is a glorious rendition of O Holy Night and I will not apologise.

 

Anyway… What’s your favourite funny Christmas song? 

The Bear Tax

Little Girl has been given a lot of different nicknames in our house since she appeared on the scene, not least her official foetus name ‘Otto’, but it should not surprise anyone to know that she is now frequently called by her animal name, what with living with father obsessed with giving animal names to everyone around him. She started off as Babybear but it has since involved into all sorts: Bearchops, Bearkins, Little Bear, you name it, she’s probably been called it.

This might help to explain why there is such a thing as a Bear Tax in our house. It’s a food tax and it is a steep one. She gets to apply it at the drop of a hat whenever the envy takes her and let me tell you, the envy takes her often and she ain’t kidding about it. Badgerman and I have calculated that at the moment we have to pay a 25% Bear Tax on all food items.

At times it feels like all I need to do is think about the food I’m going to eat and she magically appears next to me and makes the sign for it – or says ‘concot’, which has gone from just meaning ‘fruit compote’ to ‘me want food NOW!’. She can hear the sound of packaging being open from the other side of the house and comes running to share in the pleasure I’m about to experience. We have dinner together in the evenings as a family and she eats the same thing as us but always stops her own dinner halfway through to get her hands on the stuff she likes from both our plates before going back to her own. When I was still in the early days of pregnancy and had a huge craving for crisps, I eventually had to wait until she was sleeping to stop her from standing in front of me screaming until I’d given her some. Thankfully, she’s just the same with healthy food, so all is not lost. 

I’m so glad she loves her food and is easy to please but I would quite like to be able to eat my cereals in peace in the morning and not have to see this small hand sinking into my milk and rice krispies just as I’m about to lift the spoon to my lips, especially when the little miss has already had a satsuma and a whole bowl of porridge.

Greed, Thy Name is Little Girl

Noises animals make

I have started reading to my daughter and her favourite book tells the story of a butterfly who wants to play but none of the other animals want to (it does end well by the way, the ducks are quite keen). We don’t yet have many French books so I have been translating it as we go along. It’s easy enough; there aren’t that many words, however it requires me to make the animal noises based on what is written down, some of which are totally baffling to me.

For one thing, in my adult life I’ve had little need for this kind of skill, and now I don’t actually remember what some animals are supposed to sound like. I also definitely don’t know what they’re supposed to sound like in English so the book has thrown up some challenges.

The Good:

Cow goes Moo Moo or Meuh Meuh; I think I produce a mean heifer noise.

Sheep goes Baa Baa, or Beh Beh; it’s a real easy one.

Duck says Quack Quack, or Coin Coin, and although it doesn’t look it, it sounds pretty similar (apart from the ‘ck’ sound at the end).

Dog says Woof Woof or Ouaf Ouaf; Cat goes Meow or Miaou, no problem there, it’s pretty much the same

The Bad:

Pig goes Oink Oink apparently… I have no idea what Pig says in French, but anyway, it grunts right? I definitely sound pig-like, but Oink is a bit of a stretch.

The Ugly:

The Cockerel goes Cock-a-doodle-do. Does it? Really? Hubby says it in his best posh voice and it sounds hilarious, but nothing like the real thing. In French, well, let’s just say that ‘Le Coq’ doesn’t translate particularly well but it’s easier to go Cocorico! and feel like the morning has indeed come.

The Weird:

The butterfly goes Flutter! Flutter! I don’t know what to do with that. I ended up translating it as ‘Flap, flap!’, which works as some sort of onomatopoeia, maybe?

Frogs go Ribbit Ribbit; shamefully, given the name of this blog, I have no idea what they say in French!

 

I can’t think of any others, but suggestions are welcome.

Say it Like it’s Written Dear

It’s one of those embarrassing things that must happen to everyone when they are not speaking their mother-tongue. There are some things I just can’t say. Like ‘rabid’. Does it rhyme with rabbi? I never remember. Thankfully it’s not a word I use regularly.

A is for Apple Image by Pink Poppy Photography via Flickr

There are others that I have to use on a daily basis that cause me just as much trouble. Take ‘muslin’ for example. When I used it the first time, I thought it would be so simple. It looked simple. Unlike plough, which I now know doesn’t sound anything like drought, but rhymes with cow (I mean, how does that even work?). And don’t talk to me about ‘sauce’, it took me months to master that one. And Thompson. I worked for a bank in my early days in England and had to call someone called Thompson. They were a bit confused when I asked for Mr Thump-son…

Back to ‘muslin’. I picture the word in my head, imagine myself saying it, and I still can’t figure out how it goes. And believe me, we have a lot of muslins around what with the Babykins puking and dribbling all over the place. I get lots of practice. And yet every time, every single time, I say it wrong.

‘Pass me the muslin, hubby please, the Babykins has dribbled milk on my black sleeve again!’

‘The what? The Muslim? We don’t have one of those around but I don’t think he’d be able to help.’

Some words are just there to confound me.