Back So Soon...?

Yes, yes, the title is ironic.

I haven't been blogging much recently- forgot the password, got annoyed, dongle broken etc etc.

George, of course, has continued his unremitting and largely senseless babble:

"How do echoes make theirselves?" YOU try answering that whilst negotiating rush hour traffic.

"What does a fly look like when it's dying?"

"I can't wear these shoes, they're magnetising my feet to the ground"(throws himself to the floor and writhes and squirms to demonstrate the point).

But in spite of all this rubbish (all the above were within a 48hr period last week- multiply by infinity for final total from last blog to now), George has made a firm friend. Daniel is a chum from nurserwee who comes to play at least once a week. Like George, Daniel is an 'only' child and so the two of them seem to have bonded exceptionally well; the unbearable anticipation of a visit soon dissipates into fighting, squabbling and shoving but none of this diminishes their enjoyment of each others' company. Daniel frequently tells George he loves him, and George always returns the compliment. Its so sweet, this first friendship, so genuine and so heartfelt. Luckily they will be going to the same school. I was given some excellent advice about being a parent observing childrens friendships; Trust your child to pick well: If your child likes the person, then YOU like them. Here's to George's first chosen relationship! Long may it last.

And so to swimming. Neville Two is proving slightly more challenging than Neville One (but not as challenging as those damn L-sounds). It was Assessment Week this week, and as usual the children were being observed as they tried various aquatic tests; swimming a width of the pool, showing confidence in the water, etc. Luckily, Sam (he spits shower water) and Levi (mischievous little imp who distracts the easily-distracted, ie George) were absent. Nevertheless, there was a Scene.

The five remaining classmates were lined up on the edge of the pool. As their names were called, they each had to jump into the pool, feet first, arms above heads, hands together. This is called a Pencil Jump. You'll recognise it from the Olympic Games...

The children dutifully lined up, George at the end, last in the line up and last to jump. George looked cute and comical before they even began- he's the smallest by some way, but by far the most alert and indeed, the noisiest. He also has very sticky-outy-ears. The first four kids raise their arms and jump feet first, in turn, into the water. 'Hurray!' shouts the teacher, 'well done! Now, George, your turn'.

Those readers who have seen the famous Yuppie bar scene in the British comedy 'Only Fools And Horses' will know what I mean when I say that George did not do a Pencil Jump- he did a Del Boy. He held his body rigid, absolutely poker-straight, kept his feet on the side of the pool and, in a contolled motion, let himself fall in, landing flat on his front on the surface of the water before sinking like a stone.

In the Spectators Area, we mothers had been applauding generously -but with a competitive eye- at the achievements of Other People's Children. George's audacious performance caused a momentary silence followed by a gasp, and finally, when he resurfaced, the genuine comradeship of shared laughter. A wonderful moment. But I guess he failed that test. And he did demonstrate Confidence in the Water.

George is definitely developing a sense of dramatic effect and comic timing. He's turning into the typical Class Clown, and I have to say that although this may land him in trouble occasionally, at least he won't lack friends.

Another recent development, apart from Making Chums and Mucking About in Swimming Tests, has been The Unspeakable Torment of Getting Dressed. This has been causing fun and frolics on a daily basis. If one tries hard enough, one finds there are multitudinous ways of avoiding, delaying and/or disrupting the dressing process. From simple basics such as Running Off or Hiding in Mum's Bed, all the way through to 'I'm invisible so I don't need clothes' and 'I can wear pyjamas to nursery, they said I could', and of course, 'I'm a dinosaur/cat/egg/fish/car/other non-clothed creature or object'. Allegations are made about the ill-fitting nature of animal themed underpants ('The lizards are biting me'). The whole thing peaked with the aforementioned claim that his new shoes were unwearable, weighing him down due to their strong magnetic qualities. Walking was impossible, unless he went En Pointe, which was clearly not feasible for a day at nursewee. 'But you liked them in the shop' I wheedled, 'Loo-ook, they're silver'. 'I hate silver. I didn't want silver' was the emphatic response. I tried fruitless logic; 'They feel heavy because they're like football boots'. Football boots had hitherto been greatly coveted. 'I don't want football boots,' came the retort, 'they're not like football boots'. Can one think of a compromise in the face of such scientific certainty?

No. One just has to resort to the parental favourite 'because I said so'. This got the usual response of tears and foot stamping (well, tiptoed stamping, if there is such a thing). What joy I brought to nurserwee last Wednesday morn. What untold gladness of heart as I dragged my En Pointe and EnRaged four year old to the door. Even a look at a rubbish skip and a forklift truck didn't help. Yells and screams echoed 'theirselves' around the carpark. Even the presence of Daniel couldn't assuage the Lord of Doom in his Magnetic Trainers of Destruction. The punchline? Five minutes after I left, exhausted, mortified, sweating, late for work and tortured by doubts about my parenting skills, George was heard to announce loudly and proudly, 'I've got new trainers. They're silver. They look a bit like football boots...'