Wednesday, 2 October 2013

The little things

Nell - wondering how the hell she got here, and how to get the hell out.

I've been looking back over my blog recently, and so have Owen and Matilda.  And we've all really enjoyed revisiting our lives.  I can see how happy it makes them both that I took the time to document their bits and doings.  They love laughing at their baby and toddler antics.  I felt a bit sad that I haven't managed to record so much over the last year or so.  I revelled in some of the early minutiae I noted about Matilda and I wondered what I had missed and was now gone forever about Owen.  And then I thought that was rather daft.  I wasn't even writing my blog when Matilda was born whereas Owen has his first months written up here.  Nell has her period in utero.  The ebb and flow of life means I simply cannot be here consistently and the ebb of my brain (not so much of the flow) means that I don't have the requisite little grey cells to write interesting and entertaining prose.  I used to want this blog to be about more than my kids but I feel that that is not really where either my interest, or that of my faithful and exclusive little band of followers, lies.  For now, all I really want to do is to try to record the little things about my minibeasts that I know will make me smile, and make them smile, in years to come.  That's not to say that should an errant and disorientated thought ever stray into my head that I will not choose to express it here, and I might have the occasional moan but mostly, to be honest, you're just going to get a scrapbook of the Canteau-Pilbeam trilogy.

To this end, for several months now I have been writing down little things Owen has said that have tickled me. And these are they.

My nose isn't working. (When bunged up with a cold)

Not petit dejeuner, I want big dejeuner.

Just after arriving home.
Me: Who trekked mud into the house?
Owen: Auntie Katie.  (Only Owen and I in the house)
Me:  Really?
Owen:  I think it was nana.  (Still only Owen and I in the house)

Ham is crying - lost his friend in my mouth.  (His friend was a pea)

(Having dropped a grape into his houmous, then ventriloquising the grape) Oh no, I'm all houmousy.

The princesse was in danger, no! two dangers, no! three dangers. (Owen loves inventing stories - mostly about princesses)

I am a mariage - pronounced the French way (with just one 'r'), meaning he is dressed up as a bride.  Ever since he gatecrashed a wedding in the cathedral with Mamilo, O loves dressing up as a 'mariage'.

And some mispronunciations:

hopotus - a prize for anyone who can guess to what animal Owen is referring here.

Daddy fisk it - my boy already knows mummy is incapable of 'fisking' anything (the shame).

a bonker - a conker (though I like O's version better)

Boucle d'oreille - what is wrong here? I seem to hear you cry (at least those of you who understand froggish).  Let me put this charming mispronunciation into context, Owen was telling us he read the story of Boucle d'oreille et les trois ours at school.  (For those of you who are not bilingual Boucles d'Or is the story of Goldilocks, a boucle d'oreille is an earring.)

Dressed up as a 'mariage'