Monday 30 January 2012

Playgroup

I finally got to take Harry to playgroup last week – and it made me realise just how quickly he is growing up.

Although I'd been desperate to take him since he started in September, I hadn't had chance until last week, so it was somehow appropriate that I managed to do it on his third birthday.

After taking a few weeks to settle in, Harry now loves going to playgroup and talks about the helpers non stop so he was quite excited when he found out that daddy was taking him for a change.

Walking to the door with Harry holding my hand and chattering away made him suddenly seem very grown up and I began to wonder where three years have gone.

Anyway, we walked into the entrance hall and Harry, obviously showing off in front of me by now, hung up his coat and bag. As soon as one of the helpers opened the door to the main hall, Harry turned to me, kissed me and, as quick as a flash, was running off shouting “bye” in my direction without so much as a look back. Talk about having a lump in my throat.

The following day, I was able to take Harry to the parent and toddler group at Chirk Infants School, which is where he will be going in September.

Unlike the playgroup, I stayed with him. What was most interesting was seeing Harry in a different environment. I'm so used to him being boisterous, noisy and cheeky around the house that watching him being (relatively) quiet and shy came as something of a shock.

I have to say the school and the extremely welcoming staff left me very impressed – which makes me feel a lot better about the fact that my little boy will soon be going there every day.

Monday 16 January 2012

No secrets

CHILDREN can make you feel incredibly guilty, as last Monday demonstrated all too clearly. After taking Harry to visit my grandad, I managed to catch his head while lifting him into his car seat.

It wasn't a big bump and there was no mark on his head but this didn't stop Harry getting quite upset – understandably perhaps – about the whole thing.

“You bumped my head daddy,” he told me through sobs. “That hurt.” I felt terrible, and tried to cheer him up by telling him that we were off to visit my mum and dad.

“I do hope nanny and grandad will be more careful with me,” he responded, just to make me feel even worse. As soon as we got to mum and dad's, Harry told them I'd bumped his head on the car.

“Daddy really hurt my head nanny,” he said as soon as he got through the door, prompting disapproving looks from mum in my direction.

He hadn't forgotten about it the next morning either, telling Melissa how I'd hurt his head, while frowning and wagging his finger in my direction.

At least it's not personal. During a shopping trip last Saturday, Melissa inadvertently trapped Harry's hand in a supermarket trolley, prompting a similar outcry. Melissa was beside herself with guilt which wasn't eased by the fact that Harry told everyone we bumped into about his poorly finger.

There's certainly no secrets with Harry.

Second time around...

With the arrival of Harry's brother or sister rapidly approaching (nine weeks and counting), I've been thinking about what I want to differently this time around.

The main thing I've decided is to let the baby sleep as much as possible. While I'm sure I'll be just as besotted with the new arrival as I was with Harry, I won't be desperately trying to wake him or her up at every opportunity. This time around I'll be happy to let sleeping babies lie.

To be fair, when Harry was born, some of my friends with children did try – politely of course – to warn me about this. “Don't wake him, just let him sleep,” they said. “He'll be awake all of the time soon enough.”

Of course I knew best and completely ignored them; after all, I wanted Harry to wake up so that I could show him off.

I've learned my lesson, though, so this time it will be a different kettle of fish. I am determined to make the most of any periods of calm as far as the baby is concerned, so there will be no waking up when visitors drop in.

In any case, we will have a demanding toddler to deal with as well so I doubt we'd get away with sitting around and cuddling the baby.

Meanwhile, the learning curve with Harry continues. Last weekend I learned that three-year-olds and decorating don't mix.

In my defence, trying to paint in a straight line while being attacked by a toddler is no easy task. As a result, it took a long time to complete what should have been a straightforward task. The finished job was, how can I put this, not quite up to scratch.

Not that Harry minded. He was more interested in leaving a trail of blue handprints around the house. Next time I get the paint out, I think Harry will have to visit nan and grandad's.

Tuesday 3 January 2012

Mince pie

I could hear plenty of noise downstairs so I knew that something was going on. There was shouting, giggling, and the odd cross word from Melissa, usually followed by a bang and a crash.

When I picked up the courage to go into the kitchen, however, I wasn't expecting to be greeted by the sight of Harry sat on the table, covered from head to foot in flour and icing sugar.

“Come on daddy, you can help me with my cooking now,” he said, grinning widely. “I'm making mince pies.”

Melissa loves baking with Harry. Why, I'm not sure because the results are invariably extremely messy.

Anyway, Melissa had decided to make some mince pies, a task Harry had got stuck into by climbing on to the table, taking off his socks and grabbing a rolling pin.

By the time I arrived, it was chaos. As I say, there was flour and icing sugar everywhere, not to mention lumps of pastry flying around the room. Harry was busy cutting out shapes for the top of the mince pies, while Melissa was trying to contain as much of the mess as possible.

Remarkably, the end result was pretty tasty – in the circumstances just getting some mincemeat into the pastry cases was quite an achievement.

Anyway, the mince pies didn't last long when I took them into work. My colleagues might have been a little more reticent had they been there during the preparation but, as Terry the chef in Fawlty Towers once said, “What the eye don't see the chef gets away with.”

Aside from the chaos he creates when he's in the kitchen, Harry seems to have a bit of a talent for cooking. I think it might be a bit too soon to let him loose on the Christmas turkey just yet though.

Christmas chaos

IT'S remarkable how excited I was about a plate of mashed potato and baked beans.

But to see Harry tucking into his food after struggling with a stomach upset for more than a week was a great feeling. He'd barely eaten anything for four or five days and both Melissa and I were getting increasingly concerned at the amount of weight he'd lost.

Needless to say, Harry's illness did take some of the shine of Christmas. With him being off colour, Christmas Day was a more sedate affair than it would have been otherwise.

Having said that, I'm not sure Melissa or myself had enough energy to do anything else – with Harry being poorly, we hadn't been able to sleep properly so we were shattered too.

While it wasn't exactly the Christmas we had planned, we still had a good time. Harry was up at six on Christmas Day and the look on his face when he opened the living room door to see his new train set was magical. “Look dad, Father Christmas has left me a train set,” he shouted while hopping from one foot to the other with excitement.

I'd set the train set up on Christmas Eve – and, as usual, it had taken me a bit longer than anticipated. Needless to say, Melissa found the whole episode very amusing as I tried to decipher instructions that might as well have been written in a foreign language. Of course, it was worth it to see that reaction on Christmas Day.

By the end of the day, though Harry was absolutely exhausted – a combination of excitement and the effects of the virus – and he was asleep before six.

Unfortunately, yet another bout of sickness led to a trip to the out of hours service at the Maelor at half eleven that evening. We were worried about dehydration, but an extremely cheerful doctor reassured us after a thorough check that there was nothing to worry about. Thankfully, Harry seems to be over the worst of it now – and his appetite has certainly returned.

As I say, it may not have been the Christmas had planned, but I doubt we'll forget it in a hurry.