Dramarama

I've temporarily abandoned the biblical theme due to lack of time (I do admire people who can produce blogs containing only beautifully crafted jewels of sparkling wit and fascinating lifestyle).
I haven't got time to sit and think of a half-clever religious reference today. Anyway...

I just picked George up from nursery (or 'nurser-wee' as he says it) to be greeted by the mournful statement, 'I'm desperate for some peace and quiet'. Unusually, he consented willingly to an administration of calpol and put himself to bed, pale and wan. In hushed tones the BFS (Big Friendly Stepfather) and I discussed what might be wrong with him. The concern was shortlived. Within minutes, George re- emerged from his room, giggling and chasing the cat. Melodrama over.

Earlier this week, George had his first real temper tantrum. That's not bad going- he's nearly four and we escaped the terrible twos relatively unscathed. George doesn't do tantrums, he does Carefully Considered Cantankerousness. But this week's foray into foot-stamping fury was tremendous. It was all about two girls playing with his cars. George has very set, and curiously sexist, ideas about what is appropriate behaviour for a boy or a girl, and never the twain shall meet in his little world. But the two young ladies in question are both potential blue-stockings and thought that a police car chasing a racing car sounded a wizard idea.
'Everybody's being rude to me!' cried George, and after that was rendered incomprehensible in his fury. Only a spell in solitary followed by a quiet word from BFS could calm the situation.

Some old stuff...

I was remembering the other day that George used to call himself 'Dorge'. How cute.

Aged only just three, he accosted a complete stranger buying pink slippers in Tesco's.
'My swippers are better than your swippers', he stated. Luckily, the slipper-buyer was a benevolent lady.
'Are they?' she said 'and I bet they've got Bob the Builder or someone on them?'
'No' says George, 'they're a sort of reddish, brownish colour. And fwuffy.'

Usage of 'Ish' continues...
George and a friend were playing dressing up, and George decided his aim was to scare his chum. He tried on a variety of intimidating masks; dragon, fox, pumpkin... all to no avail. The friend remained happily singing in her fairy wings. George suddenly leapt into action.
'I know', he said,'I'll put on my Dracula costume. THAT will scare her, because its a darkish colour!'

A man was walking three dogs on our local Common.
George: That man's got a lot of doggies- a white one, a brown one and a dullish coloured one.

And finally, the other sort of Ish:
We bought Ish a companion for his flash new tank. Ish had originally been one of a pair, but Ish Twin had died about two weeks after arrival. New Companion was a black bubble-eye fish, quite cute as fish go, and named (by George) 'Bubble Blow'. George took ages to choose him, and expressed undying love for this new family member. Bubble Blow had the amusing habit of doing a little shimmy now and then, which entertained one and all, but mainly me.
About two weeks after the arrival of BB, I was sitting near the tank, and I thought to myself, 'BB's swimming at a funny angle' and then realised that he was, in actual fact, not swimming, but floating. Ah. BFS was summoned to perform the undertaker duties, and BB was respectfully flushed down the loo.

George didn't even notice. But we wonder about Ish- or, Crippen, as he's now known.