Tuesday 16 August 2011

Bedtime

WE’RE having plenty of fun putting Harry to bed at the moment.

I’m not really sure why bedtime is proving to be so tricky but, whatever the reason, as soon as Harry sees his bed he seems to find new reserves of energy. On a couple of occasions it has taken more than an hour for him to drop off, which is hardly ideal.

Whenever I put Harry to bed, I always try to make sure he’s a calm as possible, speaking quietly and trying not to get him excited. Most of the time, I fail miserably and within minutes he’s bouncing around the bed while I try to persuade him to lie still.

In response, my tactics start with persuasion, then switch to bribery before ending up – usually – with a stern telling off. Harry’s response, generally, is to laugh leaving me wondering what I’m doing wrong.

Reading a story to him doesn’t seem to have the desired calming effect either. In fact, his favourite book at the moment – the Three Billy Goats Gruff – has precisely the opposite effect and whenever big bad troll is mentioned, Harry joins in with the action, growling and baring his teeth.

Eventually, he does give up, exhausted, leaving a frazzled parent in his wake.

There have been a couple of entertaining moments along the way though. On one occasion, Melissa crept upstairs to do the ironing while I took Harry to bed. Harry then announced he needed the toilet, jumping out of bed and heading for the bathroom in our bedroom, prompting Melissa to hide behind the bedroom door before dashing downstairs, desperately trying to avoid being caught.

And the other night, I popped my head around his door to tuck him in – only to find he had disappeared. After a few seconds of blind panic, I heard snoring and found Harry fast asleep – underneath his bed.

The conductor

I’M FAST learning that it’s difficult to have secrets when you’re a parent.

Harry is quite happy to tell anybody – including perfect strangers – everything. Most of the time, this isn’t particularly interesting but at times it can be quite embarrassing.

Earlier this week, for instance, I arrived home from work and Harry ran over to me telling me how he’d got a poorly leg. It turned out he’d fallen over earlier in the day and grazed his knee – but there was no way he was going to let his mum get away without telling me.

I had been caught out in similar circumstances a couple of days earlier when Harry told Melissa how he’d fallen off a chair while I was making his tea. As I say, you can’t get away with anything.

On Saturday, when we visited Chirk Hospital Fete, Harry was absolutely mesmerised by Ifton Colliery Band.

As soon as the band started playing, Harry began waving his arms to mimic the conductor, singing Ten Green Bottles at the top of his voice, even though that particular song wasn’t part of the band’s repertoire.

He refused to move until they had finished playing, whereupon he started asking them to play Happy Birthday for daddy. “It’s daddy’s birthday soon,” he pleaded. As I say, there’s no escape.

Eventually, we managed to distract Harry by promising him a ride on the Glyn Valley Tramway Trust’s train. We did have a great time at the fete, though, and Melissa even picked up a second for her damson jam. Not that Harry noticed; by this time was back in front of the band waving his arms and singing Ten Green Bottles.

Thursday 4 August 2011

Never a dull moment

It goes without saying that life with Harry is never dull. In fact, it’s getting more entertaining by the week.

When I arrived home the other day, I found both Melissa and Harry covered – literally from head to foot – in emulsion. It turns out that Melissa had decided it would be a good idea for Harry to help her paint his playhouse.

Of course Harry was delighted to get stuck in and, judging by the photographs, had a whale of a time. Unfortunately, since this rather messy episode, Harry has been determined to do more decorating and is not easily put off. When I told him we’d run out of paint, his reply was: “That’s alright daddy, you can use my paint if you want to.”

To distract him, we’ve been doing plenty of digging in the garden, which happens to be Harry’s other favourite occupation. He spends his time barking orders – dig weeds over here daddy, and so on – while I have to get down on my hands and knees and dig around in the soil.

If I’m feeling adventurous, we dig potatoes. The best bit about this is watching Harry load the potatoes into his little tractor and trailer before trundling off up the garden and delivering them to the conservatory.

I have also been trying to encourage Harry to take more of an interest in football, with mixed results. On a couple of occasions, he has really enjoyed playing and he certainly seems to have decent coordination when it comes to running and kicking a ball at the same time.

Unfortunately, and as you might expect, he doesn’t have a particularly long concentration span and we’re soon heading back to the shovels to dig again.

Regardless of this, playing football with Harry is another one of those magical moments of parenthood. Now all I’ve got to worry about is getting Harry to concentrate on a game of cricket…