Making goo-goo noises, pretending to hide around corners from me, playing peek-a-boo, making me pretend a bar of soap is a tasty treat (only joking, social workers) this is the stuff for kids. I demand to be treated like an adult, have ice-cream for breakfast and stay up late to watch Miss Congeniality (not Miss Congeniality 2 though, that’s pants).
Please stop gurning/singing out of tune appalling, lyrically dubious pop hits of yesteryear. In particular unholy wailing of ‘Union of The Snake’ at high volume/proximity to my delicate personage. It unbalances both my upper scale register and my growing fondness for Chilean Electro. Exposure to even small amounts of your ‘unique’ brand of musical tomfoolery isn’t going to make me any more cute (i.e. lots) than I already am, and will quite likely see me develop a phobia of backcombed hair and oversized shoulder pads - Though in mitigation this may not be a completely bad thing.
Listen bud, I’ll be walking just when I see fit and no amount of flashing lights, just out of reach toys and food-related bribes will change this. Anyway, when you’re not looking I’m hopping about the place like a gazelle with a toothache. I may likely continue this charade for several years. Dependent on compliance with unreasonable pocket money requests and perhaps the odd pony.
I have an issue with the Sludge-green puree evilness that masquerades as din-dins on principle. I don’t care if you choo-choo train it all the way from elbow central, I still ain’t eating it pal. Stop nicking my breadsticks and don’t be shy with those tasty Rice Krispies - I am a growing baby after all, and you certainly don’t need the extra calories.
I want clubbing, funky house music all night long. I want to be with the beautiful people, I’m thinking Ocean Drive, Ibizan Villa after-parties, Sydney Harbour at dawn. Not Leytonstone high road for a ‘family stroll followed by Nando’s’ - savvy?
Your pitiful attempts at ensuring I’m left-handed are doomed to failure. I will continue to clasp all manner of baby-related items with my right-hands, feet, teeth and elbows until you make me a jelly supper. I may then reveal my ambidextrously fiendish master plan to an invite only audience (i.e. Mummy)
1. Birthday parties for ten or more one year olds – aren’t they fun?
2. Probably other stuff
Daddy, you have been warned.
Yes, it’s time to make the leap to the Big Room at Nursery.
When do you officially draw the line between having a baby and having a toddler?
Roy's money saving tips for Christmas games (please, do not try these at home...).
Things I now know about long haul flights and holidays in Cuba...
White suit, yep. Platform shoes, yep. Shirt that looks like you’ve had a scrap in a paint factory, yep. Small, portable child. Yep. The date for public humiliation is set. September it is. I have ...
I’ve had to take it all back. The gentle ribbing, guffawing and outright pointing, as well as the laughing at other people's summer misfortune....
"My Grandad Jack went to heaven recently. I am a little sad about this....
Well now, it’s been a while since my last post. What with house decorating, tickling baby and watching Heroes (the best thing on telly, after Entourage, of course)
I've been wondering whether babies have the power to alter the fabric of time. Using my new (dubiously un-scientific) theory I calculate I've lost five whole days since August 2006.
I’ve polished my shoes, coiffed my hair (it didn’t take long), dug out the wedding suit. The reason? It’s christening time for newly minted daughter.
The hidden cost of flying low-cost, high stress with a new baby in tow...
Fatherhood sneaks up on you. It punches you square in the mush in the midst of the normal. In the supermarket, at the pub (some chance) YOU MUST BE RESPONSIBLE!
She’s here! Oh the joy! The nine months of patiently waiting; the thumb-twiddling; the trying to appear nonchalant while feeling secretly horrified at the sight of instruments of torture....