Another lift story, slightly shorter than the last one.
I'm already in the lift with J at the local department store. He is alert and looking around. A mother steps in with her little girl in a pushchair.
She looks at me and then looks down at J looking up at her. There is no preamble.
Lift Mother: He looks just like you doesn't he?
Pause
Me: Do you know that's the first thing anyone says?
The rest of the lift's rise continues in silence. The doors open. Exit me, quickly.
It's not that I don't mind the comment, but when it's the only thing that gets said...
Sunday, 22 April 2012
Wednesday, 18 April 2012
Elevation
J and me are waiting for a lift to take us from the platform at the local railway station. A mother approaches at speed with her little girl in her pushchair, stopping just short of us.
Speedy Mum: Wheeeee!
The little girl laughs
Me: I see you do that too.
Speedy Mum: It'a a time filler. Got to keep them amused somehow.
Me: True.
The lift door opens
Speedy Mum: Look Lottie, a lift. (to me) She loves lifts.
Me: He's quite partial to them too.
Speedy Mum: It's funny that, isn't it?
Me: For him it's often a double whammy. He likes the movement and, when there is one, looking in the mirror.
Speedy Mum: Great! How old is he?
Me: Seven months.
Speedy Mum: Wow!
Me: (to baby) And hello Lottie - how old are you?
Speedy Mum: Six months.
Me: Aw.
Pause as the lift doors open and we step out
Me: Just a thought, but if she likes lifts, you should try the ones at Tate Britain - they're really tall. Massive doors too. She's sure to like it.
Speedy Mum: Oh - that's a good place to go. She'll like that. Byeeee!
Lottie and her mother scoot away.
Speedy Mum: Wheeeee!
The little girl laughs
Me: I see you do that too.
Speedy Mum: It'a a time filler. Got to keep them amused somehow.
Me: True.
The lift door opens
Speedy Mum: Look Lottie, a lift. (to me) She loves lifts.
Me: He's quite partial to them too.
Speedy Mum: It's funny that, isn't it?
Me: For him it's often a double whammy. He likes the movement and, when there is one, looking in the mirror.
Speedy Mum: Great! How old is he?
Me: Seven months.
Speedy Mum: Wow!
Me: (to baby) And hello Lottie - how old are you?
Speedy Mum: Six months.
Me: Aw.
Pause as the lift doors open and we step out
Me: Just a thought, but if she likes lifts, you should try the ones at Tate Britain - they're really tall. Massive doors too. She's sure to like it.
Speedy Mum: Oh - that's a good place to go. She'll like that. Byeeee!
Lottie and her mother scoot away.
Saturday, 14 April 2012
A Boy Thing?
In a project that my internal dialogue calls 'The Further Adventures of Daddy and J', I am using at least a day a week of my extended paternity leave to take J somewhere interesting. At seven months of age, he's not particularly aware of each place, but he seems to have fun and that's what counts. Our most recent trip: Tate Britain.
An older lady (OL) stops us to have a chat with J. I think it's because I put him forward facing.
OL: Do you think it's a boy thing?
Me: Eh?
OL: What he's doing... with his feet.
I look down and witness the same view of J that I see most minutes of the day. Once again, he has pulled his socks off and is holding his feet. This is nothing new to me.
OL: My daughter, she never played with her feet, but my son wouldn't leave then alone.
Me: Her feet?
She looks puzzled (I couldn't resist taking such a golden opportunity to deliberately misunderstand)
OL: (missing my joke) No, his own feet. And now all these years later, his son does the same. I think it must be a boy thing.
Me: Oh, he's always pulling his socks off. That's what babies do, don't they? Mind you, he does pick things up with his feet.
OL: Really?
Me: He holds a toy up quite comfortably and then uses his hands to play with it.
OL: My goodness.
By her expression, this appears to be the most wondrous thing in the world. I could understand if she was still talking directly to J, but she isn't.
Me: I think his Grandad started him off doing that.
OL: Well there we are - knowledge passed on down the male line.
Me: (joking) You never know, perhaps there's a gene for it.
OL: Maybe...
We leave it at that. I think I may have inadvertently given credence to her theory.
An older lady (OL) stops us to have a chat with J. I think it's because I put him forward facing.
OL: Do you think it's a boy thing?
Me: Eh?
OL: What he's doing... with his feet.
I look down and witness the same view of J that I see most minutes of the day. Once again, he has pulled his socks off and is holding his feet. This is nothing new to me.
OL: My daughter, she never played with her feet, but my son wouldn't leave then alone.
Me: Her feet?
She looks puzzled (I couldn't resist taking such a golden opportunity to deliberately misunderstand)
OL: (missing my joke) No, his own feet. And now all these years later, his son does the same. I think it must be a boy thing.
Me: Oh, he's always pulling his socks off. That's what babies do, don't they? Mind you, he does pick things up with his feet.
OL: Really?
Me: He holds a toy up quite comfortably and then uses his hands to play with it.
OL: My goodness.
By her expression, this appears to be the most wondrous thing in the world. I could understand if she was still talking directly to J, but she isn't.
Me: I think his Grandad started him off doing that.
OL: Well there we are - knowledge passed on down the male line.
Me: (joking) You never know, perhaps there's a gene for it.
OL: Maybe...
We leave it at that. I think I may have inadvertently given credence to her theory.
Tuesday, 27 March 2012
His Casablanca
We were all out for a walk the other weekend...
W: (to J, giving a quick burst of speed to the pushchair) Brrrrrr-eep!
J smiles
W: Brrrrr-eep!
J giggles
Me: That seems to keep him happy.
W: I know. I tried it the other day and it worked.
Me: Amazing because he only tends to laugh at the same things once.
W: It's all in the sound - different every time. (to J) Brrrr-eep!
J giggles again
Me: You sound like R2-D2.
W: I guess so.
Me: (wistfully) I had a talking model when I was a kid - I really liked that. He used to beep and then play Princess Leia's message: 'Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope'.
W: Brrr-eep! (J giggles) That's my boy!
Pause
Me: Wow, I just had a thought.
W: What?
Me: Star Wars was 35 years ago, right? That's roughly equivalent to what Casablanca was to us when we were born. Released in 1942, I think.
W: That's quite a thought.
Me: Is Star Wars going to seem that old to him?
W: It might. It'll help that it's not black and white.
Me: And it might not seem as olde worlde.
W: True.
Me: Makes you think though eh?
Pause
W: We are getting old.
W: (to J, giving a quick burst of speed to the pushchair) Brrrrrr-eep!
J smiles
W: Brrrrr-eep!
J giggles
Me: That seems to keep him happy.
W: I know. I tried it the other day and it worked.
Me: Amazing because he only tends to laugh at the same things once.
W: It's all in the sound - different every time. (to J) Brrrr-eep!
J giggles again
Me: You sound like R2-D2.
W: I guess so.
Me: (wistfully) I had a talking model when I was a kid - I really liked that. He used to beep and then play Princess Leia's message: 'Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope'.
W: Brrr-eep! (J giggles) That's my boy!
Pause
Me: Wow, I just had a thought.
W: What?
Me: Star Wars was 35 years ago, right? That's roughly equivalent to what Casablanca was to us when we were born. Released in 1942, I think.
W: That's quite a thought.
Me: Is Star Wars going to seem that old to him?
W: It might. It'll help that it's not black and white.
Me: And it might not seem as olde worlde.
W: True.
Me: Makes you think though eh?
Pause
W: We are getting old.
Tuesday, 20 March 2012
Performance
All the world is a stage and we are merely players. At least, that's how it felt when I went on my first solo mission to a nearby coffee shop with J recently.
Me: (lifting J out of his pushchair onto my lap) There you go.
A nearby pensioner couple notices us.
Old lady: Hello! How are you?
Me: I'm fine thanks. How are you?
Old lady: No, I meant him.
Me: Oh, I see....
I should get used to that. There's a pause - is she waiting for an answer?
Me: (half-pretending to be J, lifting his hand and everything) I'm fine thank you!
Old lady: Aw, he's sweet. How old is he?
Me: Nearly six months.
This script feels very familiar
Old lady: He's very active.
Me: He likes looking around. We come here a lot.
Old lady's husband: He comes to see the ladies eh?
Me: Well... I don't think...
Old lady's husband: Yes, that's what he does.
We are rapidly going off-script.
Me: I think he just likes to look around and see what's new.
Old lady's husband: Exactly! To see the nice waitresses!
It's funny how we attribute so many different thoughts and intentions to a little baby. More on this later.
Me: (lifting J out of his pushchair onto my lap) There you go.
A nearby pensioner couple notices us.
Old lady: Hello! How are you?
Me: I'm fine thanks. How are you?
Old lady: No, I meant him.
Me: Oh, I see....
I should get used to that. There's a pause - is she waiting for an answer?
Me: (half-pretending to be J, lifting his hand and everything) I'm fine thank you!
Old lady: Aw, he's sweet. How old is he?
Me: Nearly six months.
This script feels very familiar
Old lady: He's very active.
Me: He likes looking around. We come here a lot.
Old lady's husband: He comes to see the ladies eh?
Me: Well... I don't think...
Old lady's husband: Yes, that's what he does.
We are rapidly going off-script.
Me: I think he just likes to look around and see what's new.
Old lady's husband: Exactly! To see the nice waitresses!
It's funny how we attribute so many different thoughts and intentions to a little baby. More on this later.
Wednesday, 22 February 2012
Old MacDonald's Farm Diversification
J loves it when we sing Old MacDonald. He recognises the tune and sometimes even stops grizzling when either of us sing it. You join us mid-song after the verses on cat, dog, pig, duck, sheep, cow and chicken.
Me: ...and on that farm he had a... lion.
EE-I-EE-I-O.
With a roar roar here and a roar roar there,
here a roar, there a roar, everywhere a roar roar!
W: Old MacDonald has his own safari park by the sounds of it.
Me: You can't beat a bit of farm diversification in these straitened times.
W: You can probably get a government grant for that. What's next? A rhino?
Me: I've no idea what a rhino sounds like.
W: Neither do I.
Me: Mmm... (writer's note: you know the tune, I'm not treating you to it every time) ...and on that farm he had a golf course.
Both: EE-I-EE-I-O.
With a swing swing here and a putt putt there,
here a swing, there a putt, everywhere a hole in one...
W: What else?
Me: Another one? Well...
...and on that farm he had a farm shop.
Both: EE-I-EE-I-O.
Me: With an organic cabbage here and an expensive jam there,
here a ker-ching!, there a ker-ching!, everywhere a ker-ching!
Old MacDonald had a farm.
Both: EE-I-EE-I-O .
Me: ...and on that farm he had a... lion.
EE-I-EE-I-O.
With a roar roar here and a roar roar there,
here a roar, there a roar, everywhere a roar roar!
W: Old MacDonald has his own safari park by the sounds of it.
Me: You can't beat a bit of farm diversification in these straitened times.
W: You can probably get a government grant for that. What's next? A rhino?
Me: I've no idea what a rhino sounds like.
W: Neither do I.
Me: Mmm... (writer's note: you know the tune, I'm not treating you to it every time) ...and on that farm he had a golf course.
Both: EE-I-EE-I-O.
With a swing swing here and a putt putt there,
here a swing, there a putt, everywhere a hole in one...
W: What else?
Me: Another one? Well...
...and on that farm he had a farm shop.
Both: EE-I-EE-I-O.
Me: With an organic cabbage here and an expensive jam there,
here a ker-ching!, there a ker-ching!, everywhere a ker-ching!
Old MacDonald had a farm.
Both: EE-I-EE-I-O .
Saturday, 11 February 2012
The Magnificent Seven
J is getting more and more active every day, among other things.
W: He's very bouncy at the moment. He is actually trying to jump.
Me: Funny little guy. He's very climby too.
W: Bouncy and Climby and... Snotty.
Me: He is that.
W: We need more dwarf names!
Me: Spewy!
W: True. And a good attribute?
Me: Smiley!
W: Grabby too.
Me: He keeps grabbing my nose.
W: So what have we got?
Me: (listing on fingers) Bouncy, Climby, Snotty, Spewy, Smiley, Grabby and...
W: It needs to be something '-ful'.
Me: Full of beans?
W: Definitely, but not a great dwarf name.
Me: Oh! I know! I know!
W: What?
Me: Pooful.
W: He's very bouncy at the moment. He is actually trying to jump.
Me: Funny little guy. He's very climby too.
W: Bouncy and Climby and... Snotty.
Me: He is that.
W: We need more dwarf names!
Me: Spewy!
W: True. And a good attribute?
Me: Smiley!
W: Grabby too.
Me: He keeps grabbing my nose.
W: So what have we got?
Me: (listing on fingers) Bouncy, Climby, Snotty, Spewy, Smiley, Grabby and...
W: It needs to be something '-ful'.
Me: Full of beans?
W: Definitely, but not a great dwarf name.
Me: Oh! I know! I know!
W: What?
Me: Pooful.
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