Fluffy Comes for a Sleep-Over

A few weeks ago, Fluffy went to live with Emily. From that point on, Best Friend #1 had four guinea pigs, BF#2 had a bunny, and Tara has a big fat devastating NOTHING. Predictably, Mummy, "It's not FAAAAIIIIIR!" Tara begs her way through all conceivable (reasonable) animals, from "dog" to "goldfish in a bowl" - but with that horrible, horrible mum of hers, it's just not happening.
Tara reminisces, "Oh, I remember the time when we had a caterpillar for a pet. He sat in his jar, ate a lot and pooped a lot. I took him to school. It was SUCH fun," and I feel a bit bad about the whole dilemma.
But then, hurray, Emily goes on holiday and we register first dibs on all bunny pet sitting opportunities, from now until all eternity, and Tara is much happier. "Mummy, it's like Fluffy has TWO homes now, one with Emily and one with US!"
We're a bit more like a holiday home, I point out, but Tara is much happier and spend the best part of the long weekend in question sat in front of the cage.

"Hello Emily? Yes, Fluffy is happy."

Fluffy came; Fluffy looked adorable; Fluffy pooped for England; Fluffy ate dandelion ("His favourite food! It's like sweeties to me!") and newspaper; fluffy turned his living salad over, dug his way through its soil and ate some of that too; Fluffy tried to do a runner (cue Tara: howl) but was not too comfortable under his cage once we started waving the broom up and down under it; Fluffy makes for the most unspectacular photo opportunities - and after a few happy days, The Fluffster went home.

Handsome Fluffy Fluffster

At that, the fun is not over. Leo - who's been playing along, but not quite with the same enthusiasm as Tara, pipes up now, very concerned about the business of having a pet, and wanting to know if Fluffy will come back.
"...What about Easter, will Fluffy come back at Easter?"
"At Easter, that's the Easter bunny who comes to visit and hides treats, not Fluffy."
"I don't want a bunny that gives food to people; I want a pet amlial!... For my birthday, I want to go to the pet shop."
"Why?" (Leo is big on sentences that start with "For my birthday". They are his favourite statements since last November, roughly.)
"To buy an amlial. Maybe a dog."
"Leo, we can't have a dog. There's no room in the house. We have nowhere to put a pet."
"But Mummy! Some amlials like the dark. They can stay in the dark..." He thinks briefly, "I want to buy a monster!"

We're not buying a monster. As soon as he said it, he knew it, too. "I meant a toy monster, Mummy!" We're not buying a bunny either. Or a goldfish. And no horses, Tara, no horses, even when it's really really mean to deny a kid the only one big number one wish they have put on their birthday list.

Tara Bookworm Gratuates from Infant School

Oh oh oh... why do all good things have to end? Tara is counting down her remaining days at school, but it's not so much in anticipation of the summer; rather it's in horror of how little time is left at her beloved school, with her beloved teachers, and all her friends.

Transition day at her new school was a success though, I was utterly delighted with the welcome we received and so excited about all the after school clubs on offer that I nearly signed her up to the max I could fit into a week, without so much as consulting her. (In the end we agreed on Arts and Craft, Yoga, Lego and German for a start.) And what an emotional moment (that stretched on for about 3 hours in which I could have burst into tears at a second's notice from the sheer stress of it) when the children were called up for their new class, and first her one best friend got up, then the other... how utterly devastating it would have been to not see her join them... heck, who wants a surname starting with V anyways... at R, the queue of kids looked so long I felt they could not possibly be calling any more up and started counting those what-looked-like-60-kids-to-me (but were just under 30)... and finally, second to last, Tara got up and... well, her emotional and social wellbeeing was guaranteed for the next four years, from where I stand!

At school, Tara has prepared a road map for her schooling ahead.

What has changed about me from Year R to Year 2?
When I was in year R I was much less confident than I am in year 2. At year R I was not able to read but that has changed and I am now  very good at reading.

How would you like to be by the end of Year 6 at Junior School? What is your target?
at the end of Junior School I would like to be able to read out loud because I am really good at reading in my head but I am not so good at reading out loud because I run out of breath.

What will you change about your behaviour to make it even better?
I would like to get better at listening on the carpet because sometimes I fidget with Emily and I miss some words out.


Question to Mum: Are you looking forward to the summer?
It will be such a relief not having to police my girl's bedroom any more, to try and get her to sleep at a reasonable time (being before 9pm preferable, not 11pm) instead of falling asleep with her nose in a book.
That said, my lovely term-time-only contract has been terminated and I'm joining the crowd of parents who send their kids to summer camp. Rephrase: Due to changes in mum's employment situation (which are, of course, preferable to unemployment) Tara and Leo are joining the crowd of kids who go to holiday camp for so many weeks a year.
Changes all around.

Family, 2013

Family 2013. Leo is 3 and a bit, Tara 6 1/2. The house is 2 years in our possession and lots of work remains to be done. I have a list. But today the weather is great and it's down to the beach for a little entertainment and some stone throwing.

This is how it works in 2013:
I throw a few and then stand back, admire the kids and wait for the time we get back and maybe stop by a cafe in town for coffee. Deserved.
Jose takes the lead and instructs the kids in the picking of the best stones, plus some throwing technique.
Tara throws and then just follows the stones. Daredevil playing catch me with the waves.
Leo, a litte more reserved when it comes to the sea, tries to come to the rescue. He grabs Tara's hand to pull her to safety; Come on Tara come OUT! But Tara can't be moved: No, Leo, it's ok Leo. And Leo's attempts at saving his crazy, cold and water loving sister are only good for as long as the waves don't lick at his feet. Then he runs! Run, Leo, run, or the water will get you!

Tara takes the sea home in her boots. Half a liter each. We spot that rather late, but in time to make the right decision: straight home, no cafe today. (But plenty opportunity in the 364 days of 2013 ahead.)

Tara Reads

Tara reads. Book Day got it started with its gift lo a book about Magic Molly, a vet's daughter with the magic ability of speaking with animals. It has a pink cover, had "magic" in the title, she chose it herself and read it cover to cover.
Her next discovery were Fairy Bears. Pink cover? Pink wings? But of course! They have her anthralled and go like this: On Firelfly Meadon, in an old sycamore tree, down a forgotten squirrel hole and into the hollow trunk there are the Crystal Caves, home of the Fairy Bears. Fairy Bears work hard by day and night to care for nature and keep human children safe. They go to school to learn their magic, and even when still so young and cute, get sent out on their First Mission by their teacher. Oh how fearful they are that they might fail in saving that injured bird/human child! But over the course of some 80 pages they learn to believe in themselves and their special powers, overcome any obstacle and return to the Crystal Caves triumphant!
Tara can't get enough!
The next series of choice is called "Rainbow Magic," and amazing money making machinery along similar lines as the Fairy Bears that churns out at least five books a year, it seems. If not pink in cover (At least they agree that thay can't have all 200 plus books in one colour only), then surely pink in content, and Tara starts collecting. And devouring them. And, no doubt, jumping up the Reading Steps ladder at school.

Fairy Bears. If it's got wings we'll read it.

Bedtime gone, come ten pm, Tara still can't get enough. There she is, sat up in bed well after her third reminder that children who don't go to sleep on time will be sad and sorry in the morning.
Mum and dad are downstairs, and we can her her little voice read out each word aloud. Eventually I will send a thundering daddy up "to go and switch off our daughter." (But I can't help thinking back of a smaller me reading to all sorts of hours under the covers, torch or no torch, taking 40-odd books out for the summer holidays and running out by week four. Different subject matter, but who am I to compare and judge, for one, I was much older - hah! I could not read at age five!)

Leo, too, is spellbound. Stories pouring fourth from his sister! Amazing! Must sneak up and listen! The boy loves his stories just as much. Three years before I'll know whether he'll go for creatures with wings or rather start on Horrid Henry and other boyish reading material... Tara loves Horrid Henry too. Tara loves anything, really. Tara reads the cereal boxes and pages from my books. Book loving children. It's hereditary.

(But really, anything will do...)

Jubilee Visiors

England. June 2012. It's the Queen's Jubilee. It's half term. It's rainy. Whatever it is, it's cool. Cause we have visitors. Foreign embassadors with a suitcase full of presents and time on their hands to indulge every single whim of Princess Tara and Prince Leo. With a drumroll, I present... Tito and Tita!

Regalos gustosos!!, los DVD's de Barbie...no fallan, verdad Tara?

(Tara is delirious. Barbie DVDs for a present, just as requested. "I wold lieke Bearbii and the magiec of Peegasis plieees." Need to scrap two titles of her birthday wish list...)

Leo....veo...

(Leo grabs any present he can get a hold of. When he gets a playmobil policeman on a scooter it looks like that's all he needs... but only for a minute. "Where is more?" Yes, he's a very switched on child. He did notice that there is a whole suitcase full of stuff.)

La Reina Isabel...no tiene nada que hacer al lado...no os parece??

Leo este dia dijo asi como unas 100 veces....let's go to the beach please..100 veces?? no creo que fueron mas!!

No pudimos tomar cafe aqui porque habia tanta gente....y tanta decoracion inglesa....

Tara, has aprendido muy bien a hacer fotos!!!, este es el ejemplo

Familia??, cual de los dos mas guapo??

(Did anybody ever wonder where Tara got her looks from? Yes, well the above should answer that question. Bit freaky if I'm honest.) 

Lovely and sunny day...

(Says Leo, "First it's sunny and then it's moony. And then it's sunny." And he says that only about five times, what a treat! There just is no room for rainy day vocabulary on a beautiful half term June holiday like this.) 

 

Que mejor manera de celebrar el "jubilee", que con dos espanolitos!!, a pesar del mal  tiempo, han sido unas vacaciones muy divertidas, hemos descubierto a la princesa Tara... mas guapa cada dia y a un Leo muy gracioso... y sin parar de hablar y luchar ni un momento!!

Nos ha encantado visitaros, os esperamos pronto!, muchas gracias por todo. Os queremos!!. Muchos besos, tito y tita.

Prince and Princess (Red 'n Blue 'n White)

Prince Leo

In the run-up to the royal festivities we've gone all red 'n blue, and a bit of white.
Festivities and celebrations at the school, more of the same at the nursery; even I'm tempted to go to work with a union jack painted across my forehead, and bunting hanging from my frocks.
But it's Tara and Leo who are invited to dress in red-white-blue (or comes dressed as their favourite queen, king, prince or princess).

Princess Tara 

Oh the drama before we're ready to enjoy the celebrations! (Cause I'd be lying if I said we all enjoyed every moment of it.) Six or seven outfits I've lined up that I feel meet the requirements. But my girl and I have a different understanding of what constitutes blue, and what black (I have the fashion industry on my side, but Tara scores with higher levels of stubbornness), and whether a tiny bit of green here or orange there might be permissible (No, I can't ring the school. It's late at night, there is nobody in the office. No, I also refuse to call them in the morning just before we leave the house. Sorry.) We're also a little sad that the plaster cast is only pink and glittery, not red with blue glitter.
My poor Tara is reduced to tears, the night before he school honours the Queen's 60-year reign, and Mummy throws a most suitably red-hot tantrum along the lines of "I have 32 years of life experience ahead of you why can't you just believe that I know what I'm doing and do as I say just for once!" (Honest. I think I need a party too.)
But the next morning runs smoothly, the girl is out of bed and dressed red white and blue before my feet touch the floor, and, we understand, has had a wonderful time at the school, and then some more at her friend's house at a screening of Barbie.
"Mummy, I was a bit of a fusspot yesterday, wasn't I," she says at bedtime. Well, ahem. A fusspot fit for a queen. Well, ahem. Just like her mum.

For the love of crown, cookie and brother and sister

Leo arrives at the nursery in blue and red, and shyly accepts a golden crown at the door that he then wears with pride for the next few days, and the next few nights. "Where mine crown? Where is mine crown, Mummy?" it is when the crown is not sat right on his curls. On a windy walk through town he pins it to his head with both hands, for fear it might be blown away. At night I have to peel it off his head carefully after he's fallen asleep. Leo loves his crown. Leo loves his new identity as royalty.

Of course it's not far off his general experience of who he is.
"Who's mine sugar cake?"
"Me!"
"Who's mine sausage pie?"
"Me!"
"Who's mine prince?"
"Me!"

And my crowned prince looks just as royally delightful in his underwear as he does in red and blue. I get the camera out, my kids think they're being filmed and put a late-night jubilee celebrations show on for me. A speech about their days! Song! I'd love to say it was the national anthem, but actually it's more like Bah Bah Black Sheep and Twinkle Twinkle. Which is just fine because they're not singing for the Queen after all but twirling and twinkling for their mum.

And just because they are so fabulous, here are some essays from students at Tara's school (one year up from Tara).

If I were Queen...

"I would buy everything in the world and put the pictures up on my palace wall and also the cooking things in my big kitchen. The cook would go in then too and I would bring my servants with me. I would go in a plane and meet everyone in the world. The left over food I would give it to the poor.
My palises will be made out of chocolate, sweets, ice cream, brik metal wood and plastic."

"I would help Africa. I would do it because they get disease and they would have to work so the first thing I would do is get some doctors.
I would tell everyone instead of eating 5 a day it would be 20 a day also I would give naughty people another chance.
Every Book Day I would give each child £10 to spend on books."

"I would let all the poor people stay at the palace and give them money to buy a house. I would give the prisoners more of a choice. I would do this with my friend Hollie.
I would meet everyone on their birthday. I would provide birthday cake for everyone in the world. I would let people go to different countries on their birthday."

"I would buy 1,000 tickets to the Olympics I would buy them because it is fun. I would take my whole family. I would buy for poua Oliympics, football, athletics and rugby.
On Sunday everyone had to wear a hat.
On Saturday everyone had to wear a blue top.
I would buy 1,000 dogs, 1,000 cats and 1 penguin. I would have a pet room.
I would have 10,000 dressis and 11,000 knickers."

"I would ban prison because if people are naughty sometimes they can still live and you really shouldn't break the law any way. I would do it the old fashioned way by putting people on the cross instead.*
I would stop the war because I don't like people getting hurt and poorly**, and it must be really sad leaving your children (if you're a lady or possibly if you're a man).
I would send my servants to help the poorand I would pay for wells to be dug and food to be grown because people should never be without food and water as they might die. I would help all the charities and pray to God and Mother Theresa. I would exercise every day and I would stop people from killing animals like cows and pigs."

"I fight you, Mummy!"

What can I say... LONG LIVE THE QUEEN! (And our lovely children.)

* I'm not making this up.
** I'm really not making this up!

Deja vue (pink, this time)

Here it goes, the kind of call that parents dread. "Can you please come to the school and take a look at your child's arm. She has fallen over in the playground and is complaining about a pain in her arm."

I can't really see the benefit of coming "to take a look,"  so I come and take the child - a pale little thing that hugs her arm and looks at me, "Mummy why did you take you so long?" - straight to A&E for an x-ray party, some cold sticky plaster and a promise of a choice of colours and glitter when we come back in a few days for the proper cast. Mostly, Tara is bored after we've exhausted our very limited options of entertainment, being snacks and a kiddie magazine (very pink and glittery too).

Please note the glitter. And the colour of the cast, of course.

I'm as amazed as I was pretty much exactly three years and tree days ago,* at how little it takes to hurt little bones. A fall off a tiny wall into soft dug up soil three years ago, a fall of bucket stilts this time. Makes me want to wrap the kid up, sit her on the sofa and let her watch telly all day, preferably pink and glittery... Not really, but wouldn't it just suit her!

* 28 May 2015, I have my eyes on you. Just in case Tara does move in magic cycles of three...

Children devastated as arsonists wreck favourite local playground

A CHILDREN's playground was left scorched and in ruins after a devastating arson attack in a Ramsgate park.

The playground's pirate ship centrepiece was turned into a charred mess on Thursday evening, just two years after the £50,000 play area was built.

A spokesman for the council said unless it can claim for the damages on its insurance, it will not be able replace the area.

Devastated local children assess the damage to their beloved park

"We fist it? Bob de builder fist it," suggests local child Leo, 2, who has been left bewildered by the attack on the palyarea, and unable to comprehend that we cannot fix it, nor access the remainder of the park until the damaged ship has been removed.
Leo had only recently begun to climb it by himself, enjoyed the park thoroughly and demanded to be taken to visit it daily, whatever the weather.


"The police! I know the police are investigating this and they will find the baddies who did this. And kill them." Tara, 5, feel very strongly about vandalism of any kind, but is particularly unforgiving of attacks directed against children and their playthings.

Two baddies were seen fleeing the scene. The police are investigating.

(See also This is Kent and Kentonline.)

Kaboom!

One last sentimental look across the bay onto this (not quite so) beatiful landmark of Thanet on a (definately) beautiful Sunday morning. Bye-bye Attenborough Towers, you Three Milkshakes and a Straw's. As newcomers, we've never quite grown to love you at all, for entirely obvious reasons. So we're among the coastal folk that have come to see you laid to rest and rubble.

Attenborough Power Station. The last minute of its 50 years.

More people in the crowd than rubble on the ground a minute later (nearly)

A sixty second spectacle. Some cheered and clapped, others (like Tara's friend Elena) cried and cried, but all were there to see it. Kaboom! (They look a little surprised half-way through, those towers, poor giants.) (Picture courtesy of someone with a better camera who got up early enough to get to a great spot... unlike others who underestimated the turn-out and associated traffic and just about made it to the closest convenient spot in time, ahem.)





We now have: A pretty coastline, the largest off-shore windfarm in Europe, the best Chips in England, a cool new gallery in the neighbourhood that even the Queen's come to visit, fabulous sandy beaches and a few new cafes in town, a new pool being built three minutes from our doorstep... You'd think the town is nearly exactly where you'd want it to be, with a pleasant little future ahead.
One major concern is left: Will we become the twinkly lights that illuminate the runway of expansionist, up-for-sale Manston airport? A pretty coastline and tasty chips are all somewhat futile if you can't sleep at night because your politicians think flying noisy planes right over your house in the middle of the night might be a superb idea. Or failed take offs crashing into your neighbourhood, now that would even off-set the gallery, the queen and the lovely beaches on a sunny day.
Fingers crossed, everyone, that our poor little - slowly reviving - town does not become the UK's hottest nightmare address. (Watch this spot.)

A Tooth for a Barbie, or, [Can't Really Print The Intended Subtitle]

It's not even three years after I spotted that first microscopically barely visible cavity, and by now we sport what must be the poorliest baby teeth in town.
Tara is on best terms with the Tooth Fairy - the Spanish one, that is; The English one would not yet know of her existence as it only collects teeth that have come out naturally and in perfect condition, I understand. The Spanish one, being a mouse and not quite so picky, has kindly taken long journeys upon its little self to reward Tara for general bravery at the (by now private) dentist, in particular for treatment-without-trouble.
Oh, has Tara gotten good at treatment-without-trouble! Onto that special chair in a flash, pop the special glasses on and open mouth wiiiide. No problem, any of it. Drilling? Fiiiiiine. Tooth extraction? No problem at all.

Although, of course, this tooth extraction is a First, and we've been trying our best to stop it from happening. One course of anti-biotics (placebos would have worked better), a strict regime of all the good things the health shop suggested (which seemed to improve things but not enough), another course of alternative anti-biotics (gummi bears would have worked better)... six weeks of trying to calm down a nasty yellow leaking abscess on top of a little molar, with no success, so out. it. comes. (and my heart bleeds a considerable bit).

if you're on the NHS, they send you half way across the county to a special childrens' sedation clinic where they extract under full anesthetics. (One of the reasons we went private last year.) Our dentist is very good and so much more child and parent friendly: Extraction by story (and anesthetics that Tara never noticed she had).

Tara loved it. It goes roughly like this (after the gums have been rubbed with bubble gum flavoured numbing stuff): Close your eyes so you can imagine the story better. You're on Broadstairs beach on a lovely day and you're getting in a hot air balloon. You have your chicken korma with you and you're going up up up, feeling all light (in goes one injection). The seagulls try to steal your korma but you're not letting go of your treat. There are lots of tiny people under you as you float over the beach (in goes the second injection)... and now you're coming back down.
Tara adored it. "I imagined how my body got full of air like a balloon, Mummy," she says later, "and I could feel myself flying through the air!"

Leo is extremely sceptical of the whole thing. He perches on the chair in the corner, looks after Baby Sofia for Tara and you can just tell he's glad it's not his turn on the chair yet. Although, just like Tara he's come a long way, and he's totally cool compared to the younger baby who'd cry when spotting a white coated dentist. As long as it's "Tara goin 'a dentist? Not 'eo? Is Tara's turn? Not 'eo's?"


Today we have a deal with the Tooth Fairy. We've put a special request in (by message to Spain), due to the severity of the treatment: One Barbie DVD please. Also, of course, we knew that there would be a lengthy period of rest after the extraction, so I've given Tara a new DVD, and she gets to watch The Moomins, Season one in one go. Some four or five hours non stop. Sucking lolli-pops to keep the new wound nice and washed up in saliva. Known fact that after an extraction, there should not be too much chewing going on, so as a reward (and a bribe) we've got an easy chew for dinner, a take-away chicken korma and other tasties that Tara lives and dies for. Certainly has a tooth extracted for.
And another one, if that's what it takes: "I wish I could have another tooth out tomorrow!"
That's the family dentist politics gone a little wrong. For the next visit, we'll tell the Tooth Fairy to take a holiday.
At the pace we're going though, I have near-to-no doubts that there's another extraction waiting us in not too much time.
In the meantime, we're taking hints and tips for the miraculous reversal of Tara's dental decay; Elmex gelee is being imported, Schuessler salts No. 12 are being taken, it has been understood that brown rice and cherries are good for bones and teeth.
Of all the explanations offered for her poor dental health, my favourite is that it's a developmental thing and the result of her having been so small at birth. Weighing it up against the potential causes for lack of growth Scan Man suggested six years ago, this is the First Place in the race for a healthy child (or maybe second).
We'll plant a cherry tree and hope for the best for the next set of teeth.

Dead baby tooth *sniff*

Recovering from the first tooth extraction among friends*

* I know, two lolli pops. Counter-productive in general, but today I'm more concerned with gentle non-chewing methods of saliva generation.