Resolute for the New Year

There has been a gap in my blogging. But there has been no let-up in George's stream of consciousness yattering. And we have seen the decline and demise of our aquatic friend, Ish.

I kept thinking he looked unwell, but was ridiculed for voicing this opinion. But he looked, well, downcast. Then he began to swim a bit strangely, and developed a distinct list to port. Then he kept sinking down to the bottom of the tank, nose first, and when he touched the bottom he would shake himself and swim normally for a bit. The final stage of his indisposition was a curving over sideways, like a fortune-telling fish from a Christmas cracker. When he had rolled himself into a complete circle he sank for the final time. The Grim Ladler scooped him out, and off Ish was flushed to the great big fish tank in the sky. Poor Ish.

The grand plan was to get another fish quickly, but Ish passed on about two days before Christmas, when our priority was Christmas Frenzy, not Ish Replacement. Luckily George was distracted by the mountain of gifts he received, so he didn't notice Absent Ish for a while. We were concerned he'd be upset, so we didn't mention it. Until one teatime, George piped up, 'I can't see the fish!'. I murmered something vague about him being the other side of the tank. George said brightly, 'No, he isn't. I think he's dead'. At which my mouthful of hot tea suddenly found itself propelled forcefully in two directions; up my nose and across the table. BFS staunchly defended the Other Side of Tank Possibly Behind the Plant theory, then changed the subject swiftly, while I gathered myself together.

A new fish has been purchased. Its got a bigger tail than Ish, but George hasn't noticed.

George himself has been learning to swim, and gained a silver star for his efforts in swimming lessons last term. We have had a road to Damascus moment with his lacklustre kicking: I explained his legs are like the propeller on a submarine. Once a machine was involved, it all became clear. George's opinion of his watery abilities far outstrips the actuality. He told his Grandparents he had a snorkel and could swim underwater. This was a blatant lie. But he genuinely believes he can swim underwater, as fervently as he insists that he can see in the dark with his 'Night-time red glowing eyes'. Unfortunately neither claim can be borne out by the facts. He also anounced that he walked from his father's to home once (about six miles).

George has new swippers(still can't pronounce the letter L- at the start of a word it's an N, and in the middle of words its W). The swippers are bwack power wangers swippers. Work it out...

He got a Neville Crossing for his train set on his birthday, and- 'Have a Nook, mummy, the cat is Nurking on the radiator'.

And joyfully, we have artistic ability! It's finally begun to flourish. Thanks to a friend's 'Make and Do' birthday party and a new 'Mister Maker' program on kids TV, George now frequently announces that he feels 'afty and crafty', and is displaying a decent level of ability, particularly with modelling clay. He made an anthill and several dozen ants yesterday. A strange choice...

Of course, his love of wheeled items has in no way faded. He got a Scalectrix set for Christmas, and a motorised tricycle from Grandparents. It goes slower than walking pace but he LOVES it. Inspiration for many car scenarios comes from watching Top Gear on the tv, and also Police, Camera,Action (real live police chases). He also listens intently to the traffic reports on the radio, and they are all re-enacted; high sided vehicles being warned from bridges, shed loads, overturned/jacknifed lorries, floods, all manner of localised disasters. All of them require full attendance of all emergency vehicles, and the setting up of all available roadsigns, whether or not they are relevant. Usually a car chase will ensue, and definitely a traffic jam. Normally air sea rescue pilots will jump in to assist, and mummy is called upon to broadcast a traffic update.

Life is full to overflowing. Mummy is feeling slightly iffy about George starting school this year- the end of an era, no more leisurely morning cuddles, no more wonderful 'just the two of us' moments. Much as I celebrate and encourage his development, a part of me wants to keep him all mine and little (nittle) for ever.