Dear Santa

Dear Santa,
I've been a very very good girl all year. Mummy and Daddy are witness to that. Please come fast. I need new toys because my Lala and other toys, mostly and preferably books, have died the horrible death of drowning in the bath tub which has absolutely only very little to do with my throwing them all in with a passion.


Dear Santa, I also quite liked this rather big wauwau. But don't worry if you can only afford a smaller one, maybe like this little one.

Yours with love,
Tara Olivia

PS.: Dear Santa, only kidding. Tara doesn't know about you yet. But boy, does she know what to do with a present when she spots one. And boy, is she good at spotting! So when out and about, please bear that little brown eyed dolly in mind that we talked about.

Yours sincerely,
Mummy

And Who Are You?!

It's all very confusing. If only travelling was all about putting all your friends, favourite people and toys in a basket and moving about!

Great, says Tara. I'll fit Baby in, and this little book, too!

But ah, unfortunately things are a bit more complex. Lots of people everywhere that need to be understood and named. Take grandma. Tara called her Mama for a few days, and then learned to call her Amma (Oma). Grandpa (Opa) is so much more confusing - of course he isn't Papa, but he's the only man around, so is he Appa, or Papa now?
Tante Claudia, Mama's sister. Amma? Caudilja (!)? Or Amma Aia?
Babay Lia? BeBe! But is that the same as BeBe for baby, or is it more like BeBe for Püppi (dolly)? Now Nirit, Lia's mum. Mama or Amma or what?
Tara is clearly pleased to find that so many people are her friends&family. She cries for them all when they leave her company. Wrinkles her forhead, and calls for amma, regardless of which amma-or-other has just left her, in woeful tones before she adds a pitiful bye-ya!

I stand by and marvel at the great social intelligence of my baby girl, and wonder what goes on in her little head when she sorts, shifts, classes and names people.
Three days to go, and the whole exercise gains another dimension when there's a new set of ammas and other folk that are called abuela/o and tia/o!

Diagnosis: Excema

TARA (a week ago): Hello, you tasty penguin that my friend Tilly gave me! You look a right old sweetie! I'll have a bite or two of you, and then I'm going to eat you all up when we come back home from our Christmas holiday, yum yum, and I'm looking forward to it, HA HA!


And then the following happened: Over night those awful dark bags under her eyes, along with the red patches on her eyes, and - let's admit it - the torn dry skin under Tara's left ear that mummy thought nothing of, turned all very red and itchy and flaky and looked, well, awful, and, well, just like excema.
Which in a way was a nice thing cause I had already considered all sorts of horrible diseases that could be behind dark eye bags and permanent tiredness (poor kid rubbing her eyes all the time) that... but let's not go into that, it's slightly embarrassing.
So, Tara got taken to the local German pediatrician, who referred to Tara as 'THIS CHILD', had his diagnosis ready in seconds, gave us a swift lesson in genetics (mother's got a skin condition, look, chil's got it off her, thanks), then still ranted on about the rip-off idiocy of alternative medicine and homeopathy for an additional ten minutes, lectured THIS CHILD'S mother about sugar and sweets in a child's diet (she had a selection of RICE CAKES, BREAD STICKS and organic health biscuits sweetened with apple juice, for God's sake!), banned sweets, and finally prescribed steroids and ushered us out with a Merry Christmas.
Now I know why I had ab-so-lute-ly no memory of the man, who happens to have been my own doctor until only just 17 years ago. It now makes perfect sense that my only memory was of running from the man from one corner of a small room to the next when due an injection.
I did have fond memories of the waiting room, where there are still the exact same toys as 20 years ago. Tara did like them very much too, though somehow I don't think she'll be given a chance to grow fond memories of the set-up as long as there is another doctor in town.


I did, however, put an order in with Santa for the nicest dolly I think he could afford! And bought Tara a nice puzzle pull along toy to make up for the bad genetic material that's MY fault.

I will have to eat that penguin all by myself.
What can I say. I'm very sad for it.

A Eulogy To Chocolate (in three pictures)

Which door can we open today, mummy?

Great choice! I'll have... em... THIS one!

My! Mummy! This is such a tasty one! The best of all*!
(* All the ONE that you'd left me)

Mummy: *sniffle* (And yesIknow it's not life threatening!)

Reunited, Yeah-Y-Yeah*

(Mummy's Entry)
* Singing to a tune that Tara will probably never know cos she ain't old enuf!

Ah! The novelty of having a best friend with a kid the same age (roughly), and actually being in the same country at the same time! With, can you believe it, the same agenda, too! Which read: fun, coffee, milk foam for the kid/s, then off shopping, sweet compliant rice cake munching darlings in tow, possibly ideally asleep.

Introduce your babies...

... and raise your babies! A toast! A toast to friendship!

I'd sing that song about being reunited if only I knew the lyrics, but possibly I'm not old enuf either.

Coffee house fun with two kids. Great, great, great!

What WILL Papi Do?!

OFF TO GERMANY!

His girls got in the car (Tara: Kaa! Kaa! sounding clearly different from Ka! Ka!), had themselves treated to a trip to the airport, and went off to Germany! Now just WHAT will Papi do, all by himself with a freezer full of food and treats but NO-ONE to share them with?! Who is going to chase after him with a book in the left, and a book in the right hand when he comes home tired?
Who will serve him cake and eat half of it should he not be fast enough tucking in? Hugh?
Poor poor Papi.

As for Tara, well what will SHE do?! She asks for Papa in her sleep, she asks for Papa when she wakes up, and once she's woken up, she asks for Papa at 20 minute intervals, peeps out the window, and points to the door.
Granted, she also asks for doggies aplenty, and Ba Ba (sheep) too, which could easily be mistaken for her Pa Pa's, but a mother knows...
Life with mummy can't be that thrilling, about time we got a foot in the door at mummy's chosen nursery.

As for mummy, what will she do? Patiently tell Tara that daddy is in England, at work, and feel guilty about it. Then palm the kid off on the grandparents and possibly have a shower, uninterrupted. Ha ha ha! Then, looking decent, scruffy kid in tow, meet friends, and sail off to the various farmer's and Christmas markets that are going on everywhere. Those are somewhat bigger than the 5 (FIVE, yes, that's FIVE!) (maybe six, but certainly NOT seven!) stalls huddled up in some tea house backyard in Ramsgate, and closed due to poor weather.

And should the going get tough despite these various attractive attractions, we'll just have a coffee and milk foam somewhere nice, remember daddy fondly, and have some girly chat. That should remedy every woe, especially of the miss-my-favourite-guy heartbreak kind.

Aaaah this milk foam sure is tasty stuff!

Let me dip into your milk foam, Papi!

OK, I'll stick to sipping my own, but only cause you say so.

Naane!

Tara's True First Love? That of the banana, which she lovingly and greedily calls NAANE! She loves it so, she tries to eat it whole!

She loves it so, she knows exactly where to get it at the supermarket, and should we choose the entrance that gets us to the veg section first thing, she'll be pointing and clamoring for her NAANE NAANE until I've fetched one, whizzed her through the check out with an alternative treat to bribe her into letting go of the NAANE so the check out lady can weigh it. Ten pence, thank you, and we can shop for real while Missy is munching away.
Actually, she's so well aware of where to get her NAANE we only need to go down the road towards the supermarket and she'll shout, though I'm not all sure whether she's saying
1. NAANE ("I shall surely perish if I don't get a banana RIGHT NOW"), or
2. NAANE ("There's the shop let's buy tons of treats!").
Either way. NAANE! YUM!

PS.: This entry has absolutely nothing to do with that entry!

KAKA

Tara kann ihren Namen sagen, und tut das mit zärtlicher Hingabe. Genau wie Mama & Papa, wenn sie nicht schimpfen. "Kaka," sagt sie mit Enthusiasmus.
Das kleine Mädchen in der Kamera und Fotos im Computer? Ka-ka!
Die süße Maus im Spiegel? Ka-ka!
Bilder von Babies, zu denen ich ihr gesagt habe, "So klein war Tara auch mal"? Ka-ka!
Wer verteckt sich da unter der Decke? Ka-ka!
Grossartig.
Kaka ist das erste sichtbare Ergebnis vom Unzug in eine Höhle mit Papa, der es ja bekanntlich ein wenig mit der Sauberkeit hat. Innerhalb von zwei Tagen wusste Tara, dass das, was da klebrig in der Windel steckt, KAKA ist.
Papa: Das ist KA-KA.
Tara, kleiner braver Lernschwamm: Ka! Ka!
Das Zeug, was so grün-gelblich im Taschentuch hängt, dachdem der protestierenden Tara in die Nase gekniffen worden ist?
Papa (kneift, wischt und demonstriert): Das ist KA-KA.
Tara, kleiner braver Lernschwamm: Ka! Ka!
Jedweder Fleck nach einer Malzeit, auf Wischtuch oder Kleidung?
Papa (wischt und putzt): Das ist KA-KA!
Tara, kleiner braver Lernschwamm: Ka! Ka!
Alles, was sich im oder auf dem Weg in den Müll befindet?
Papa (schmeißt weg, Windeln und anderes): Das ist KA-KA!
Tara, kleiner braver Lernschamm, beugt sich mit respektvollem Abstand vor uns späht in den Mülleimer: Ka! Ka!

Mama: Jetzt hör aber mal auf, ist ja hier nicht ALLES Kaka um die Maus herum!

Und siehe da, zwei Tage später zieht sich Tara zum Versteckspielen eine Decke über den Kopf und deklariert aus ihrem Versteck: KA-KA!
Noch zwei Tage später dekodieren die verwirrten Eltern Bedeutung und Herkunft dieser Variation von Kaka wie folgt: Bei Versteckspiel Variation Decke über's Kopf rufen Mama und Papa immer laut in Spanisch, Deutsch und gelegentlich Englisch: Papa, wo ist die TARA / donde esta TARA / TARA where aaaaare you?! Tara hört anscheinend den gemeinsamen Nenner raus, TARA, und, kleiner toller Lernschwamm, kopiert so gut sie kann.
KAKA!

Unsere tolle Tochter! Stolze Eltern!

KA!KA! HA!HA!

PS: Kaka just loooves riding shopping trolleys!

The Saga of the Move

has finally been told and slotted in here!
Don't miss it, for there are LESSONS to be learned from it!

Found It!

After two weeks of play and hard work, we are pleased to announce the re/dis-covery of our living room! Tara had quite happily settled into living in a box, but we are somewhat happy that's over. It just didn't look good.
So mummy has the first banana cake in the oven, Jose has the shredded boxes in big thick bin bags, and Tara has a new toy stand to help her maintain some order.
Great stuff!

Boxes to ashes,

dust to the bin.

The battle of boxes
we finally win!

Voila! Living room from the same angle as two weeks ago: