Encouraging Baby To Talk

It’s been a pretty noisy weekend at our house.  I’m in full swing making all sorts of noise, desperate for someone to understand, and Mummy, bless her, really wants to comprehend my babbles.  I suppose it has all been a bit one-sided up until now, but that hasn’t discouraged Mummy, however unintelligible my mutterings sound to the untrained ear.

I understand a lot more than I can speak but I must admit that I don’t always have the faintest idea what she’s chuntering on about.  On and on, blah, blah, blah.  Chatter, chatter, chatter.

Mummy’s been very persistent with her questions.  She knows that one day I’ll answer in words and not just the gestures I go for now.  “Would you like to wear the blue trousers or the red trousers?”  “Would you like an apple or a banana?”  I’m able to point and grab now and it won’t be long till I can answer, “I’d like an apple please, Mummy.”  At least I’m gesturing now – she spent months talking to herself!

Communication is a big thing for Mummy. It’s what she does for a day job and it’s something she always enjoyed. We did baby signing classes for a while. Daddy thought is was all mumbo jumbo and wouldn’t make any difference, and if Mummy’s honest, it probably hasn’t.  It seems probable that I would have started pointing and waving anyway as part of normal development of communication.  I don’t think it’s helped me all that much that I know the sign for cat or Father Christmas but it’s been entertaining watching Mummy tell me with words and signs that she’s going to change my nappy (she looks like she’s doing the Macarena!) or run my bath (like the Wallace & Gromit energy ad.)  Still, we had a good time.

I can now accompany my wave with a jovial “Bah-bahy” and I can point and laugh at “Da-dee”.  Still no sign of the word “Mummy,” not even close, much to her annoyance and Daddy’s delight.  I’ll add more and more words to my repertoire as the weeks go by. It might be fun to keep Mummy waiting just a little bit longer though, chatting away to herself!

CB

My First Foreign Holiday

On the back of yesterday’s post, I thought I’d share with you the journey of my first trip abroad.

I went to France when I was just six weeks old.  It was a special occasion for Grandma and Grandpa, so we all went to stay in a big house in Normandy.  All my cousins were there too, and it was a great chance for me to get to know them a bit better.

Sadly, Daddy wasn’t able to get time off work, so he kissed me and Mummy goodbye, told us to have a good time, and said he’d look forward to peace and quiet and long lie-ins while we were gone.  The last thing he said to Grandma was “make sure you’ve got your European breakdown cover sorted.”  You already know where this is going, don’t you?

We got on a bit boat to take us from Southampton to Caen and then we had another drive before we got to the house.  It was a long day because we had to keep stopping.  My fault.  I was still nursing every four hours and if I didn’t eat on the dot of 240 minutes, there was a riot. I don’t take kindly to being left waiting.

Everyone was getting a bit tired and grumpy.  They’d all had an early start too, and they just wanted to get to the house and get settled in. We were in two cars, trying not to lose sight of the other, and trying to navigate in a foreign land.  Whilst driving on the right for the first time.  Mummy is pretty well-travelled but she’s never had to drive on the wrong side before.  I don’t think my feedback at high volume helped with the general mood.

Then the warning light came on the dashboard.  A quick consultation with the manual suggested we could continue, but at a vastly reduced speed.  A quick call to the others in front and both cars continued, limping along at a snail’s pace.  At about 5km out (they don’t measure distances  miles sur le continent) the others pulled off to the side of the road and stopped, hazards on.  Who would have given odds of both cars breaking down en route. (I’m really getting in the lingo!)

It was at this point that the fun and games really started.  We, and I say we because any one of us (the grown-ups really, but I don’t want to point fingers) could have checked the breakdown cover, yet no-one had.  It was getting dark, we didn’t know where we were, our command of the language would be just about enough to get us directions to the library, and to top it off, it was gone 6pm on a Sunday evening so nothing was open.

So began the bickering and veiled insults reserved solely  for loved ones on a family holiday.  One car could hobble on, but both cars were absolutely full to bursting with luggage, food and associated stuff we didn’t need to bring.  The Great Balloon Debate began, everyone arguing their case for a space in the working car to stumble onwards, with the losers having to wait on the roadside for the driver to return.

Mummy went a bit primal at that point.  I don’t think anything would have stopped her getting herself and her baby in that car!  Needless to say, we got there first.

The house was incredible.  Just stunning.  Called La Brasserie, it was exactly what you’d imagine a traditional French farmhouse to be, and very sympathetically decorated.  My cousins quickly thawed the atmosphere when they arrived and the party was all together again in a way that only children can, and we started the holiday properly the next day.

I didn’t take pictures of the broken cars on the roadside, or the cross grown-ups arguing.  My picture is of Mont St Michel, which we visited a couple of days later.  It was quite something!  It’s a proper little town with shops and restaurants, and as I was travelling in my sling, I got a close-up view of it all.  I don’t think the buggy would have fitted through some of those narrow little streets.  Mummy always wanted to visit MSM, so she’s ticked it off her list now.  That and the Bayeaux Tapestry, but I slept through that.

CB

A Memorable Birthday For Mummy

Quite the little joiner, I’m taking part in Sticky Fingers’ The Gallery for the first time.  The theme is travel. 

Like so many entries before me, it’s very difficult to choose a single image.  I’ve chosen this one.  It’s of my mummy on her tenth birthday (a long time ago!) watching the sun rise over Mt Bromo on the island of Java in Indonesia.   She was living on Java at the time and I know she has really fond memories of her time there, so it seemed like a good shot to share with you.

Mummy’s far better travelled than me but I hope to catch her bug.

CB

Credit Crunching

I know this is a bit heavy for a Wednesday night, so I’ll try not to make it too depressing.  Mummy and Daddy are talking money a lot at the moment because it seems that Mummy’s job is at risk.  Something to do with efficiency savings and streamlining.  Sounds like cost-cutting to me.  Thankfully, I’m too young to really understand what Recession means, but I gather it’s affecting a lot of families at the moment.

There are an awful lot of references to the credit crunch these days, everywhere you look, so I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of children not much bigger than me are starting to realise that the term isn’t that pleasant. I suppose then that mummies and daddies are faced with the challenge of how much detail to go into.

You either go down the route of preserving childhood innocence, and do everything you can to shield your little one from the harsh world beyond the front door, or I guess there’s a great chance to provide some educational experience and lead by example; talk through money-saving intiatives and the consequences of saving and spending.

If you fall into the first section, you’re probably the sort of person frantically making all sorts of personal sacrifices so your children’s routines and habits are unaffected.  I read about one mummy who even went as far as not dying her hair any more (at least not at the haidresser) to save a bit of extra cash for dance lessons to continue.  Mummies really are devoted! 

Money-saving as an education needn’t be bad news either.  My cousin is a real bargain-hunter and loves finding a good deal.  She’s not even ten yet, but my aunty knows she can sniff out value, so it’s my cousin that surfs the internet for airport parking for the family holiday.  She sees getting money off as a challenge.  Good girl!

I imagine which option you choose has a lot to do with how old your babies are, but I don’t envy you mummies and daddies – it sounds like just another thing you have to worry about.  On top of everything else.

I think Mummy and Daddy will take a combination of both when I’m old enough.  Once I can talk properly, I’m sure they’ll want me to feel I can ask for anything (not that I’ll necessarily get it!) without having to be told no because we can’t afford it.  At the same time, once I’m a bit older, I know they’ll want to teach me about the value of money, how important it is to save, and how if I don’t spend all my pocket money on sweets and tat every week, I’ll be able to buy something much more valuable.

CB

Get Out Of The Pushchair And Get Some Exercise!

Is it me, or are we getting completely obsessed with weight and exercise?  It seems everyone has an opinion on what we should eat, how much, how frequently.  My friends and I have all had our 12 month checks relatively recently and while you’d expect us to get weighed and have diet discussed in some detail, we each had contradictory advice.  Weird.

Now, according to several of the national newspapers, we have to do at least 3 hours of exercise a day, too!  I am genuinely amazed that there are official guidelines for how much activity babies and toddlers should be doing.

Of course, it’s the parents’ fault again because you ‘restrain’ us in highchairs or buggies, and that’s now risking our health.  What?!  I’m afraid I just cannot believe babies spend so many hours a day strapped down that a report has to be written specifying how much activity we should be getting.

At least it acknowledges that this ‘exercise’ isn’t meant to be like adults – you’re not going to be seeing a rush of toddler treadmills hitting the shops – because often we’re not even walking, let alone ready to grapevine our way across the sitting room.  That’s where it loses the plot a bit though because it suggests the activity takes various forms including skipping and riding a bike!  Ha ha!  Now it might be that I am very behind the times, backward even, but I don’t know anyone under 5 who has a bike, let alone can ride one.  I can just about shuffle a little wheelie car.

I don’t watch television, I’m too busy emptying my Mega Bloks all over the floor, or washing my socks in Hairy Dog’s water bowl.  I would say I’m always on the move, so hopefully that discounts me from this prescribed, timed power-walking!

Don’t forget to stretch afterwards!

CB