18M

Now, why would Tara be looking a bit... tired, at this tender an age?


Could it have anything to do with mummy chasing her across the garden with a picture camera? Taking one picture after the other after the other? Hunting down that one perfect shot to commemorate her 18month-day? Or is it more the hour of wild play Tara got out of it, the fresh air, and the joy of being held up to pull washing pegs off the line and putting them back on? Chasing after soapy bubbles and being allowed to pop the ones mummy caught for her? Pushing car around the garden with Püppi's help? Whichever it is, after a fun afternoon in the garden, I've got the trouble of a screaming child that doesn't want to come back in, and roughly 80 pictures, 20 of which I manage to delete (getting better, ey?), only to the get stuck with the selection of a few to post. Life. Choices. Tough. So here are three random ones (following the 'preview' further below):

Tara in the garden, a whole 18 months old

So where are we at, at 18 months? We're gorgeous, and we're talking lots. Favorites!

Favorite foods: Sweet corn, pasta, quiche, mild cheddar, cheese, orange juice from a big people's glass, banana, pear, grapes, and tomato sauce is good, but ketchup is better! For snacks, 'organix goodies' tomato puffs. And our evergreen, boo-boo.
Favorite toys: Dolly, dolly & the teddies. Slides, Puzzles, books, musical toys - especially when dolly, dolly & the teddies play along and push some buttons, too, and that unfortunately includes computers...
Favorite activities: Bathing and playing with water. Dropping things into water (sink/bath/sea). Sorting (elastic bands onto fingers, puzzle shapes, tupper-ware into drawers), emptying (dish washer, washing machine, boxes), outdoor play / playground play, and (this is a funny one) cleaning like daddy does.
Passionate about: Looking at photos (of family and friends), dogs, birds, squirrels, cars, sliding down slides, mummy & daddy, (older) children.
Dislikes: Nappy changing & getting dressed, having face cream applied.
Scared when: Seeing spiders (?!), some dogs come too close, waking up alone in bed in the dark.
Quirks: Likes to give mum & dad a chase around the house when asked to put on a jacket, always shouts HIYA and BYE at people when out and about; anyone, anywhere, anytime.

Vocabulary (regularly used)
Foodstuffs: nane (banana, G), Kiisch (Quiche),Tee (tea, G), Paicha (Pasta, G), kekchup, (yum, G), Eija (eggs, G), Mais (sweet corn, G), Mi(l)ch (milk, G)
Toys: Bü (book, G?), Püppi, tedde (teddy), Maus (mouse), car
Animals: Wauwau (doggy, S/G), aicha (squirrel, G), qua-qua (duck, G/S), piu-piu (bird, S)
Imitates animal sounds: dog, horse, monkey, ducks, frogs, shrieking seagulls
Mostly uses igns for: birds, ducks.
Family & folk: Mama, Mami, Papa, Papi, Amma (Grandma, G, and other older women), Appa (Grandpa, G, and other older men), Aicha (Tita Isa), nene (boy, S), nena (girl, S)
Sensations: Aua (ouch, G), oh-oh (for accidents, E), wow (for amazement, G/E), heich (hot, G), kalch (cold, G), nice
Others: nuna (moon, S), Meja (Sea, G), ma! (more, G/S?), meja (more, G), geich (soon, G), da (there, G), das (that, G), baich (bathe, G), ham (eat, G), a(g)ua (water, S), ab/up (off/up), auf (open, also used for 'get up', G), nak'sch (naked, G), and of course the classics, ja (yes, G) and no (S not E!)

Most complex sentences: "Booboo ham!", "Mama car", "Hiya Papa geich?"

Some sound confusingly similar. Bird (piu-piu) can sound a lot like Papa, and squirrels have the honour of sharing a name with Tita Isa. The only one that confuses us is aua (ouch, G) - a(g)ua (water, S) - if a drop of water hits her head and she says aua, is she complaining that it hurts her, or is she observing that that's water?

Most of what she says seems to be German - not a surprise given the amount of time we spend together at the moment. But nursery is already having an effect: She's signed for 'more' in her last session, and mummy is well proud. But aren't we anyway...

Tara @ 12m, and Tara @ 18m. Magic, innit?

Well then, Tara. Where are you taking your proud parents from here?

Of course. The only way is UP!

Now, Cousin Maya, daughter of recently married uncle Derek (26.1.), whose due date was exactly 18m after Tara's birthday (27.1.), has decided to postpone her birth a little longer. Baby JJ, however, finally arrived, 12 days late, on 28.1. Welcome, baby JJ, and congratulations to Jun and Jonathan; well done, Jun!

Kek-chup & Tee

These last weeks, Tara's turned into a sponge that not only absorbs new stuff, but also spits is back out. Literally, more or less. "Quiche" - eat some, stick a hand in, rub some in your face, decide it's a favourite, and call quiche and juice quiche for the next days (juice?!). Touch it up, and it's more likely to stick. No, now I don't mean stick in the quiche-in-your-hair or the raisins-on-your-rug sense. I mean learning by involving all the senses. Baby sponge absorption. Take tea. Spotted a box a baby tea with a teddy bear on it in my cupboard. Points and ugh-ughs. "Das?" sagt Mama, "Das ist TEE". "Teeej? Tee?" sagt Tara und wird mit der Box für so schöne Aussprache belohnt. And before you know it, you've got tea all over the house, right next to the pile of raisins on the carpet, and she remembers the word. Unlike raisins, which she's messed up and about so much she should be able to write extensive literature about it by now.

Another new one, "pitsch" ('splash'). Playing with water in the sink, and Tara throwing everything within reach in. Pitsch, mummy says, and pitsch, and pitsch. Tara lurves pitsch! Two days later in the kitchen she points at the sink (FULL of dirty plates and horrible water), and insists, "PIK-CH!"

Or a new favourite food that I'm sorry was ever introduced, ketchup ('food' being flattery, of course). Tara loves the stuff. With ketchup, anything goes. So over tea, she caught sight of the bottle and started pointing and shouting, aah-aah, meaning 'feed me THAT, NOW!'
So daddy says: "Come on Tara, say it, KETCHUP!"
Mummy: "Sag Ketchup!"
Papi: "Ketchup, ketchup!"
Mama: "Tara, versuch mal: KET-SCHUP"
Papi: Tara, KET-CHUP"
Tara: "Kek-chup!"
Mummy: "Dammit, Papi, you promised! Now you've got to give her more..."

And on it goes, a couple of words every day, since she started nursery again. We're absolutely awed by it, and charmed too.

Come on, let's get more stuff to stick!*

* The honey in mummy laptop? Nothing to do with Tara, honest. A mummy accident with a hunny crumpet, I think I remember.

Sweet Eighteen

Behold! Canterbury!

(20.01.08)

"Shall we return to Sandwich this weekend, and hunt that beach down?" Guess who asks. Not Mummy!
Mummy says, "You outta your mind, man! We're going to Canterbury this weekend!" And so we do. And aaaaah, how beautiful it is! A city! With shops; proper shops, not just loads of charity shops, Poundland and a few high street ones! Cafes, one after the other! Attractive bars, restaurants and other places of culinary interest! And all set in an ancient city centre full of beauty left right and center. Tara says, What do I care! Feed me treats, show me dogs and birds, or make me sleep! So we do, eventually, and that way her old folk are free to enjoy the city with sadly not too many dogs or birds. But who cares, other than Tara?!

Behold! Beauty! Love at first sight, oh yes!

Cathedral, world famous, and joy! a Japanese tourist dog (what else?!)

"Shall we...?"

Guess how that pita lunch in Tara's hands fared...

More beauty...

... and more beauty still!

FOR SALE in a quiet road right off the centre. Say, shall we...?

A city of great ancient culture has at least one theatre, of course

More beauty still, a Hugenot graveyard plus ancient church

Say something, mummy!
"Well," says mummy. "First, what kind of daft question is that, shall we go into Hotel Chocolat?! Of course we go in and pay silly prices for excellent chocolates, and for just the privilege of being allowed to look at them! Regarding that house though, I think, we'll give it a pass, the doors are too low and I wouldn't fit through. Or anybody else other than Tara, for that matter. But we can keep looking. I still miss the hell out of Leicester, but wait, I'm feeling this... aaaah... calm and quiet peace come into my heart when I look and behold a beautiful city with life and joy within it... aaaaah, just let me enjoy that feeling a little longer, hmmmm... surely it's also got a few good gyms into the bargain, and good schools, so maybe maybe this place will help me get over Leicester one day, yes? Ahmmmm... And now hand me my chocolates!"

She'll be Coming...

She'll be coming round the corner when she comes! She'll be coming round the corner when she comes! She'll be coming round the corner, she'll be coming round the corner, she'll be coming round the corner when she comes (Yee-ha)!


And where is she coming from, with daddy, and in the dark? Nursery, of course! She's coming back to her Mum-of-Paper-Mountain, and she did not cry today! So we are celebrating the occasion with very many cuddles, a family snap portrait, pasta for dinner, and a very long song that you're all invited to join in to:

She'll be asking for her mummy all day long...
She'll be bubbly like a fish in sparkly wine...
She'll be looking through the window for her mum...
She'll be dancing to her mummy's silly song...
She'll be getting endless cuddles, gorgeous girl...
She'll be coming home a happy little lass...
Yee-ha!

Daily Diary

Name of Child: Tara

Date: 25.01.08

Parents Comments: Mum said Tara had a bad sleep last night.

12.25 - arrived with mum, settled well when mum left
01.00 - explored heuristic play - Tara spent a lot of time putting rings on to a mug tree.
02.30 - outside play. Tara was going up and down the slide, pushing the buggy's around, looking at books.
03.20 - snack: raisins, bread sticks
04.20 - Tea: crackers butter cheese, pear orange
05.00 - Dad picked up

Observations: More settled today, still asking for mum now and again.

***

Mummy waiting by the window

Here they come...

Here they ARE! Yee-ha!

Püppi Kommt Mit

"Teddy!" sagt Tara, und Teddy steigt ein.
"Baby!" verlangt Tara, und Baby steigt auch zu.
"Püppi" ruft Tara. Und Püppi sagt: "Ich will aber nicht spazieren gehen. Ich will in der Küche bleiben. Guck, Tara, ich kann dir vom Fenster aus zuwinken!" Sprachst, sprang in die Küche, erklomm das Fensterbrett und winkte fröhlich.
"PÜPPI!" befahl Tara, und Püppi stieg auch zu, seufzend. Bischen eng, aber naja... ist ja auch ganz kuschelig... und warm... und es ist so kalt draußen... und...

... gähn...

... aaaah!

The more, the merrier.

Tara Redet Mit

Mama (lauter Monolog): Uuh, ich bin so HUNGRIG! Wir müssen sofort nach Hause gehen und was ESSEN!
Tara: HAM!

Tara (im Dunkeln im Bett): Papa!
Mama: Papa ist unten in der Küche.
Tara: Ham!

Mama: Tschüß Tara, Mama geht jetzt Auto fahren!*
Tara: Mama car!

Ich bin schwer beeindruckt von dem offensichtlich extensiven passiven Vokabular der Krabbe. Essen, Hunger, Küche = ham? Erstaunlich! Weit gekommen ist sie, seit wir die erste aller Konversationen gelernt haben, quasi die Mutter aller Dialoge:
Mama: Tara, boobie?
Tara (glücklichst): Yeah!

* Mama nimmt Fahrstunden. Nach fast 16 Jahren mit Führerschein wird's ja auch wohl auch mal Zeit...

Cheeky Monkey!

So where were we, when I last left you? Ah yes, lots of questions and puzzles.
Here goes: Paperwork? Pah! Mummy slept, and it was well necessary too. Although by today a certain degree of progress has been achieved, at the cost of weekend pleasures and enjoyment. But you gotta do what you gotta do.
Gull poop? A one-off. As I've been instructed in the meantime, if it hits you spot-on the head, it's lucky. If it doesn't... and since I didn't bother with Paper Mountain that day...
Right. Tara at nursery? Lots of crying. Poor miserable soul, clutching wauwau to her grieving bosom and sobbing whenever she remembered the relation of her whereabouts (Toy Paradise, Tara, remember???) to those of mummy (Paper Hell, just to be clear on that one. No no, not bed, not me!). Pick her up at the end of her session, and she's a happy chappy who's read lots of books - for one, because she loves books, and for another because I've told nursery staff that books will always work as a distracting mechanism.
Day two, Friday. Things start off badly as Tara goes in asleep, and silly mummy thinks it might be a good idea to not be in sight when she wakes up, but sit next door for back up, and put an appearance in if waking up mummy-less in toy paradise is all too tough on the chicken. Which of course it is. Mad sobbing and clutching of mummy and Püppi, this time. And again, at parental pick-up, happy as a bee.

So, here we go now, three times a week, half a day, and surely she will settle properly in a couple of sessions. In the meantime, there is still a lot of time she will spend at home with boring old mummy, and the attempts at education she gets at home.


Like: No, you can't read that book, AND have your dinner... Books and dinners don't go together well... so give me your book, and then you can have your... lets see... lovingly cooked ready made gnocci in defrosted homemade tomato sauce. Great. Which, as you can see, was obviously sufficiently convincing, as book was released in exchange for food, after I'd applied the show and withdraw approach, combined with repeated gesturing, on top of the usual talk & explain strategy. Yum.

Talk about talking. Tara's speech development is coming on in leaps and bounds since, well, since she started nursery. In terms of which language, it's a bit all over the show, but she's getting very good at repeating after you.

Mummy: Hands off those things, they're for cousin Maya.
Tara: Maaaya!

Mama (by the seaside): Das ist das Meer.
Tara: Mee-ja.
Mama: Mööööwe.
Tara: Mömö.

Or this one. Tara watches Papi shave his head over the bathtub, and points at the black stuff in the tub: Kaka!
Papa: No, esto es PELO!
Tara: PE-ka.
Papa: Peeeeelo.
Tara: Peeee-la.

Or a similar one. Tara points at a drop of milk falling off her favourite boob, and onto my top:
Kaka!
Mama: Nein, das ist MILCH.
Tara: Miiich.
And today, at the seaside, she turned to me and said: Miiiich. And meant it! We'll work on her sense of time and place in due course...

Anyway. Getting there. And, as a first act of linguistic independence, Mama and Papa have been promoted to Mami and Papi. Unprompted, promise, and we are well flattered!

Two nights ago, though, she was left a little speechless. Or maybe she just didn't get the chance to say much, as I intervened rather quickly when I found she'd called the POLICE.
"Do you want to speak to the police?", said this voice on the other side of the phone that I had - stupidly - let Tara play with when she didn't fancy sleep and climbed over me, and off the bed, to play with whatever was at hand. "Tara, what are you doing!" I shouted, and hang up quickly. NOT an ideal reaction, but I let daddy handle it when they had traced our number some 15 minutes later, and called to investigate. Really. 999. Silly number. ANY BABY can dial that!
Anyway. This baby won't. Again. There no longer is a phone in the bedroom, as of yesterday.

One Step Up

Big day! Tara goes back to nursery! What with the great fun she had at induction last week and her professional handling of the baby room at her old nursery only two months ago, she sure will be fine. I will not call in every half hour to find out how she's doing.

Tara Ready...

Behold mummy in a total haze, dropped out of bed after a rotten and incredibly short night, her usually not totally bad choice in clothes devastated by excessive tiredness. Mandatory mantra: I will not go back t0 bed later, I will not go back to bed later, I will NOT...

... Tara Steady... (daddy very steady thanks to Nespresso)

... Tara CHEEKY MONKEY!...

... GO!!!

Tara shouts: "AB!" Or is it "UP!"? Not sure. The meaning I am sure about: "Get me out of here, I have better things to do that just sit about here with Püppi!"

Toy heaven (Not the name of the nursery), spoiled for choice and the first one in, too - bliss!

And then mummy and daddy walked out and left her at the mercy of her new Kindergartentanten who attacked at mummy's orders to - a scandal! - take her SHOES off and - the outrage! - put her in her SLIPPERS! Tara WAILED! And yet mum and dad walked. D***it. Bad start. On the way home a fat splishy blob of seagull poop misses me by half a meter. A sign? Or just a reminder of the task at hand at home?

Mummy: Ready? GET UP!!! NO, Don't go back to sleep! Go! Steady....

Did mummy tidy her mess? Did Tara cry on? And what about the bird poop? A sign, a singular incident or the beginnings of seagully mass diarhoe? All will be revealed in our next entry... but before you leave us, read on about how

SUPER-DADDY SAVES THE CHILDREN
- Linguistic Newsflash -

If I'm not entirely wrong and remember vaguely correctly (from the days when I still had full control over my doings, went to uni, and studied a bit of child language acquisition), then there is a process called over-generalisation. It describes the child's clever approach to classing and grouping things whereby it first learns one word for one thing and then, having observed a similarity between that one thing and other things, applies the name to all things she recognises as 'the same', until, one fine day later, more names are learned, differences understood, and the name is yet again narrowed down to where it truly belongs. Example? Kid learns that the moon is called moon, calls the moon moon, and then proceeds to call every other yellow shiny round thing moon: Cheese, money and what have you.
Now here comes Tara.
As we had established earlier, she had come to understand (congratulations) that she is Tara.
Her pronunciation of that pretty name being a little off, she called herself, as we know, Kaka (Spanish, German, Italian and what have you for poop) (congratulations).
Generously, and as a special Christmas gift to all, Tara had worked out that, joy, other children are like her!
So. This little girl here? "KAKA!" That little boy there? "KAKA!" That group of children over there? "KAKA!"
Tara feels very enthusiastically about other little children. She is a hearty little soul and loves other people. So let's re-run that last impression.
This little girl here? Tara, waving enthusiastically and shouting at the top of her lungs: "KAKA!" That little boy there? Tara, loud and happy: "KAKA! Kaka!!" That group of children over there? Tara, pointing and waving, nearly jumps out of her push chair: "KAKA! KAAAKAA! KAKA!"

I had a lot of explaining to do. In Spanish. Back in Britain, I though, we'd be fine, what with poo being poo. But no. Library singing. Tara loves a little girl that runs about, and occasionally bends over (nappy visible). Tara should sing, hum or wave her hands, but instead points and proclaims at irregular intervals: "KAKA! Kaka!" Until Kaka's mum said, confused: She's not done a poo! And I, who should be singing and waving my hands, have to launch into my explanatory speech, in English.
So I had warned the nursery, as it is so full of Kakas.

Enter super-daddy, or rather exit, with Tara-Kaka on a father & daughter Sunday walk, and back they come, and no Kaka in sight. "NENE!" "NENA!", says Kaka, and points at every boy and girl in sight. In books. In magazines. On the street. At the shops. And, come Wednesday, on the school playground.

Super-daddy, you are a star. Such good timing, too. Saved so many children from the insult that results from the unfortunate marriage of your daughters good name and linguistic over-generalisation.
And super-star Tara, who now knows that she alone is Kaka and the others are nenes and nenas, well done too, and let's see what daddy can do about that unfortunate mispronunciation on the next father & daughter walk.

PS: Talking about 'marriage'. Here's to our two January baby candidates.
Jun - due date today. How's that lil boy doing in there?
Uncle Derek & Karina - the family is relieved to find that you did not get married behind our backs, and before the baby is due on 27.01. We congratulate on having managed to secure a date for the ceremony after all... on 26.01. Erm... IMPRESSIVE timing. IF baby cooperates.

Aus der Stadt der Brotschnitte

Having established Daddy's passion for walking in our last entry, this week takes us to Sandwich, a pretty. and pretty small place that most English folk don't even know exist, nor how come the sandwich is called sandwich, and which came first, the sandwich or Sandwich. Sandwich, of course, with it's gambling royalty who had to have their dinners served between slices of bread so they could go on gambling. Really. And I fully understand them. If you're fat royalty and a walk down to the seaside is beneath you, there isn't much else you can do, other than dine and play. Which is exactly what I really wanted to do here, but the only truly appealing place, No-Name Shop in No-Name Street, had but two tables that were hogged by three ladies thinking their three coffees entitles them to three hours sitting time. What can I say? That daddy is a clever man not having rented a house for us here. I would have either sought employment in No-Name Shop for my occasional chance to sit down, and run back to Leicester in two weeks flat. I'm sure my job and my social life would have appreciated that.
And now, off into Sandwich, die Stadt der Brotschnitte.

Pretty old houses. The kind you want to touch up to feel history.

Did I say it's a small place? Then why did they run out of street names in the centre?

Believe it or not - the only fetching shot I could get without cars parked up all over my picture.

A shoddy old playground for Tara, who loves it! Jose excuses the state of it. It's only a small place with surely not many children, he says. Well.

"Ma!" (= mas, Spanish, proper Southern pronounciation / mehr / more)

The beach will be down there somewhere...

... and you'll eventually get there...

... if you don't take the wrong turn and wind up in the middle of nowhere NEAR the beach!

Fine as long as you have a pushchair and cheese to bribe Tara back into it. Those jittery 11 kilo are quite a job to carry!

Birds! Ducks! Dangerous creatures!

That is, if they mean your daughter absolutely insists on anting to explore them close up. Allowing her to throw herself at them sadly isn't an option, so the trip in die Stadt der Brotschnitte is slightly spoiled by an 'I want to touch these ducks there in the water' tantrum, followed by the corresponding 'You're NOT going near the water' fight and an equivalent double parental sulk.
And what with said women hogging the only truly appealing cafe in town, there's nothing like a long sleep, and waking up to an outdoors tea and buttered scone opposite the visitors' parking lot. Now, I call that a much safer sight, if somewhat less pretty. Tara likes it too, though. "Ham," she says, "Püppi ham," and a happily observant "caaaar!"*

Now, a special treat for my reader friends at the American Studies Seminar of Hanover University! I know you regret having lost me to the old country, but look closely, even here you will occasionally find a little touristic treasure of American relevance. Zoom on in, I won't give the game away. And let me tell you, I stood in respectful reverence, and only briefly considered whether the house would look better in pink. It would not.

* Ham is baby German for 'eat', and nothing to do with ham. Püppi = dolly.**
** Yes. She does indeed talk.