Eight maids a’milking, nine ladies dancing

We spent the weekend at my mother's, and it was wonderful.

On the way down, we stopped off briefly at a service station to take the children in to use the toilets.  When it was my turn to take Katie in, I pounced delightedly on a display of neck pillows in the style of brightly-coloured animals, and bought some for us.  Jamie and I have purple dragons, while Katie chose an elephant which she has named Watercup Seece.  At least, that's the phonetic version of how it's pronounced, although I keep seeing it in my mind's eye as Watercup Six pronounced with a French accent, which probably makes me incredibly pretentious.

On the Sunday, my sister and her family came round to join us for lunch and present-opening, which meant I finally got a chance to see my new nephew again.  (Oh, yes, and my sister and brother-in-law.  That was fun too.)  Baby Solly, now three months old, was of course the star of the show and even interested Jamie enough for him to put down his Nintendo for long enough to walk into the next room and look at him briefly, but Katie was quite enthralled by seeing a real live baby and promptly decided to make this toy into her own Baby Solly, which she lovingly rocked in the spare car seat and handed puzzle pieces to be pretend toys.  She decided it should be called Watercup Seece.  I pointed out that that might lead to a certain degree of confusion with the aforementioned elephant pillow of the same name, and she amended it to Watercup Seece-Seece-Seece, though I gather it still goes by the name of Baby Solly to his friends.  She took it with her when we left, still crooning over how much she loved it as she fell asleep in the car holding it.

(Yes, I did notice in the process of googling for that image that there have been safety concerns raised about the toy due to the mercury in the battery.  However, a search of the CPCS website found no record of any official concern and, as Barry pointed out, to get to the battery she would have to tear her way through a layer of thick rubber, so we have decided that we can continue letting her enjoy it with clear consciences.)

Anyway, we all opened presents and had one of my mother's delicious lunches and then Ruth, Neil and Solly had to leave and we had to take Jamie out for a walk as he was bouncing off the walls.  We got back with a somewhat calmer Jamie and a thoroughly exhausted Katie and, after feeding them, bathing them and putting them into pyjamas, loaded them into the car for a late-evening drive back, lifting them straight into bed when we got home. 

That's one child successfully anecdoted (my newly coined past participle) as promised; for Jamie, I can't think of anything from today as he's spent the time almost exclusively on playing Nintendo, which is not the stuff of which cute anecdotes are made.  (I know, I know – it's not the stuff of which high scores on the Good Mummy scale are made, either.  I probably need to work on this whole parenting thing somewhat this year.)  So, one from the archives:

When Jamie was two going on three, he went through a phase of being fascinated by word play involving opposites.  So, when we told him to settle down, he would squeak with an impish grin "Settle up!"  We were also introduced to such gems as 'calm up', 'cool up', crash up', and 'the hicdowns', and, once, when Barry found Jamie lying with his little hand-held light pressed directly against his eyes shining into him and remonstrated "It's bad for your eyes," Jamie replied "It's good for your nose."  And, for a long time, we used to look for 'yes parking' when we were trying to find a parking spot.


Filed under Family values, Here Be Offspring

2 responses to “Eight maids a’milking, nine ladies dancing

  1. Granny C

    I loved this post, the first fruits of the Best Possible New Years Resolution as previewed below. I have to say that my image of Katie’s “Watercup Sees” was “Watercup Cease” but your “Watercup Six” with a French Accent is a wonderful, wonderful thought. …xgrannycx

  2. HelenS

    My daughters used to inform me that their little brother was “conked in,” meaning he had NOT gone to sleep in the car seat.

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