Wedding shoes

You are going to be attending Auntie Dawn and Uncle Tom's wedding this weekend and these are the coolest shoes in the world we got for you to go with the suit. To you they are just shoes. To us, they are really cool shoes. Uncle Tom is going to shit himself when he sees how cool they are.

Stupid gender specific toys

Gender specificity has never been something to even enter our consciousness, Noah. These days, we walk this minefield in every waking moment. Sleep is sweet, sweet relief. You see, your mummy and I are coming to the conclusion that the dark, dark truth about our culture is that indoctrination with regressive and oppressive gender-defining doctrines is rife. We claim to be in a free society where we have complete equality between the sexes but the fact is: that's all bullbob. Yes, women have the vote; yes (though this is arguable) women have equal pay; yes they can drive now and whatever; but none of this indicates a free and equal society.

Bullbob.

All the high profile, 'important' jobs are done by men. And even where they aren't, women are more of an exception to the rule rather than the norm. People will argue with you about this but it is true. Let's take for example the following scenario. I would like you to try to picture this scenario as clearly as possible in your brain:

You are in a room somewhere, enjoying your Nobel Prize winning party, let's say, and in walks a doctor.

In walks a company director.

In walks a surgeon.

In walks an engineer.

In walks a Michelin Starred Chef

In walks a professor.

In walks a mathematician.

In walks a scientist.

In walks a pilot.

Now, when you read that list, how many of these people were female? I guarantee, young man, there were none. That is because we are in a painfully unequal society where the females are held back, and the men are given free reign. The societal indoctrination has already done its work and your brain had told you that these jobs are strictly for the men.

We think this all starts with gender stereotyping from the day you are born. When you were born and everyone found out you were a boy, we had countless people say, 'You can paint the nursery blue now, then!' And, to our shame, we did. This is how it starts, Noah. The moment we start treating you as a 'boy' rather than a person, we have immediately fallen into the trap. The good thing is that you are a boy and therefore we aren't truly holding you back by doing this. After all, you have free reign, remember? But we still need to lead by example so you can grow up and do your bit changing the world. 

If you had been a girl, we could have painted your room pink and bought you a pretty dress. We could have told you every day how 'pretty' you are and filled your tiny soft head with the idea that this, for you, is the definition of success: to look pretty for, let's face it, boys: the important gender. 

Then we would have bought you a doll so you could dress it up and look after it and learn how to care for babies yourself. We could have bought you a dollhouse so you can use these dolls to simulate a family situation in your already damaged imagination. One of these dolls could have been a Barbie and you could have looked at it with your perfectly innocent eyes and your brain, using all the other clues you have bombarding you from all directions, you would subconsciously strive to be that doll. The impossibility of this task means that you will always feel inadequate by comparison: a hang-up you will drag with you all the way through adulthood.

We could have bought you an oven set with food and a little microwave. Again, you could begin to sharpen your skills of homekeeping, in order to have a lovely, tidy home for your man to come home to after a long, hard day as a pilot or a surgeon or a scientist. 

There is so much more I want to clarify for you here, Noah, but, trust me, this is not a popular ideology and you will be met with resistance from both males and females. 

Just remember to always try and look at everything as though you are seeing it for the first time. 

Row Row Row Your Boat

It only struck me once I was a parent just how profound the lyrics are in the first verse of this classic song:

Row, row, row your boat

Gently down the stream

Merrily merrily merrily merrily

Life is but a dream

If the boat itself is a metaphor for your body; your entire essence of being, then that leaves the stream to be a metaphor for life. The fact that this is a 'row' boat rather than a motor boat implies that you need to work your way through life and that nothing is simply going to be done for you. The repetition of, 'row' also appears to represent the idea that you need to keep on 'rowing' to move this life forwards: it is a constant and unending task. By this I mean that there are no lines or verses that suggest you should, 'Stop rowing for a while and chill out'. However, the fact that is says to do this rowing, 'gently,' suggests that if you have nothing in mind but the end goal, you'll end up missing what is right in front of you in the present; in the very moment you are in. So keep up the rowing, but do it gently so that you enjoy the scenery around you. Moreover, this rowing should be done, 'Merrily'. The composer stresses this fact four times. Even when times get tough, you should always endeavour to keep a smile on your face and do what you do with happiness and merriment.

It is the last line that is the most poignant, however. 'Life is but a dream,' has echoes of Descartes, cogito ergo sum - 'I think therefore I am'. Life is as fleeting, illogical and difficult to grasp as a night time dream. This throws the whole of the previous three lines into chaos. It suggests that in spite of these things: having to try hard and keep merry, the inescapable fact is that life is a brief spark sandwiched between nothing but oblivion before and after.

This leaves two wildly different interpretations about life, then. Either it is pointless in the end so try hard to make the most of the short time that you have; or it is pointless in the end, so don't even bother. Either way, it is pointless in the end.

You tell me what you think, Noah.

The Grabber, MK2

Noah, when daddy was growing up, he had one main nemesis: the grabber. The grabber and Dandand were never seen in the same room together, leading to rumours that they were the same person, but these rumours are unsubstantiated and vociferously denied by Dandand and those who represent him.

With that having been said, you now have your own nemesis. Behold: The Grabber (MK2)

Dawn and Tom are getting married

"Yes Noah, you can make another impossibly cute video to celebrate Dawn and Tom," relented Mummy after hours of your non-stop nagging.

Auntie Dawn and Uncle Tom are getting married at the weekend. We are throwing all our stuff in the blue one and going down there in a couple of days. We are all terribly excited, not least because we get to see you wearing a suit!

Here is the video you made:

http://voice.adobe.com/v/REBNjNxsU_s

Happy 1st birthday Adelaide

At the weekend just gone, Adelaide had her very first birthday. We went up the Stone to celebrate with her. It was a lovely, lovely day and we all ate too much cake. Grandma and Caz had created a very spectacular cake indeed. 

It had a rainbow in it. 

This day was an early example of daddy feeling the ever so protective parent. A number of other children also at the party were calling you a 'tortoise' and running away from you so you would chase them. This was a little heartbreaking to watch, knowing that the word 'tortoise' implied that you were slow. You were slow, to be fair. You did seem to love chasing everyone and never catching them. I think you just loved being involved in a game with them. 

It turned a bit when they all stood round you and were laughing then one of the other children flicked their fruit shoot at you. Daddy used his teacher tone at the children and they stopped. 

Adelaide had a lovely wig which she wore to melt the heart of all who laid their eyes on her. Harvey arrived about 7 hours late, but at least he arrived. Grandma sent him to Leek, apparently. 

You were so excited for the whole day. You were so excited for Adelaide. In fact, the last four pictures of these below, illustrate that fact rather nicely.

Poor Adelaide.

Happy Birthday! (On the 31st)

An early grasp of your own mortality

Recently, Noah, we found a moth on the floor of the bedroom. It had seemingly died of natural causes. I say this not as a veterinary professional, simply because of the fact that it was perfectly preserved and appeared otherwise undamaged. 

Your mummy and I try our best to expose you to as much of the world as possible, so you and I laid down in front of the moth and I showed you its body. Whilst gently pulling the wings, I explained that they use these to fly. I told you about how moths like lightbulbs at night time and how they love to eat holes in clothes (those are strictly the only three facts I know of moths). The whole time, you watched and listened, open-mouthed. 

I went to to explain that the moth was not moving any more because it was dead. You waited then said, very softly, and with the deference the moment required, "Moff. Dead." I agreed.

Then we flushed the thing.

Fast forward about a week and a butterfly broke into our house and was terrorising the living room. We rushed to get you so you could see it before we let it out, but Happy got there first. Your mummy took this brilliant video. In the middle of the video, he uttered the words that had troubled him the previous week:

Moff. Dead.

Gardening

We are not naturally green-fingered. All the bother of cutting grass and pulling up weeds is such a bore to your mummy and I. 'If I had the money, I'd tarmac the lot and be done with it,' your mummy said, truthfully.

We think you know that because when we force ourselves to spend some time making the gardens look nice, you do your best to help out.

Your favourite thing is when you find a worm. 

It's funny because you shout, 'WORRRRRM!' and, whilst in a deep squat, you point with both of your forefingers.

Cold water: the 'factory reset' of Noah

Your new favourite thing in the bath is having a cup of cold water poured over your head. You love it.

I mean, it must be such a shock to your system and it can't be particularly pleasant, you'd think, but no. You insist we do it. 

When we do, something very funny starts happening. It's like a factory reset occurs. You say such random stuff. It's like your brain is re-booting and the first words that come to your mind start blurting out.

In this one, you just kept saying: 'MARDIES. AMAZING.'

My favourite, that we didn't get on camera, was when you said, 'FOOTBALL! FINISHED!'

We hadn't been watching any football. 

Noah the bum

As a present the other day, we let you have a prawn cracker. You loved it so much that you instantly took it and chilled out in front of the tele. 

When you chill out, you look like a lazy bum.

By 'bum,' we mean homeless, useless young man.

The white one puzzle

The other morning, I took the, 'White One,' out. The 'White One,' as you call it, can be seen, below.

When I saw that the, 'Blue One,' was in the way a little bit, I couldn't be bothered to move it first. Instead, I just thought I'd squeeze out the gap. It was only later on, after your mummy had taken this picture and emailed it to me from her work with the subject line, "How the hell did you get out?!" that I realised how baffling it was. 

By the time you read this, I am probably so old I piss myself and can't remember my own name, but once upon a time, I was bloody good at getting a car off a drive. 

Known for it, I was. 

Up the park with dad

Whatever you do when you read this blog, Noah, don't look at Daddy's tummy in the second photo. The pleats in my shirt give the illusion that there is a bit of a belly under there. There isn't 

There's nothing but a fierce six pack. 

Me and my daddy

It's been a while now, and you are showing signs of coming out of it, but you are still in the grips of a 'Daddy phase.' Sometimes you are downright cruel to mummy, telling her to, 'Goway, Mummy. Goway!'

In the middle picture here, we were looking at the clouds. You told me the birdies were playing. It was funneh.

Compare the Meerkat

You are currently at a funny little age. Every day, you seem to wake up with another hang up or fear. This month, you woke up with a terrible fear of our horrible meerkat doll. It just happened. There is no real reason for it. Your mummy walked it up to you and used a funny voice to try and entertain you. You closed your eyes very tightly and said, "Frightened! Frightened!"

As you can imagine, we had a little bit of fun with this.

This wasn't just for us to get a kick out of. We didn't want you to have this hang up. The best way, we thought, would be exposure therapy.

We saturated your waking hours with the meerkat.

The next day, when you went to nursery, you insisted on taking the meerkat in with you. Emma didn't mind. Neither did Daisy.

Hot enough for salad

It has been absolutely scorching this month (tropical thunderstorms aside) which means one thing: FACTOR 50! You have been blessed with alabaster skin (yes blessed, don't let anyone tell you otherwise) so to keep it perfect, we smother you in suncream. Then daddy puts you in the shade. Indoors. With the curtains drawn. 

Anyway, here is a picture of you playing with Hope next door. About an hour later, you came home screaming because you hurt your thumb on the slide. 

A quick word about this blog title:

Many years ago, before mummy even knew daddy, she overheard some disgusting, fat chav in a tracksuit in Iceland say, on an equally hot day as today, "Is it warm enough for salad?" To which her pondscum male counterpart thought and replied with a sneer, "Naah," before punching chicken dippers and smiley face potatoes into their trolley.

At a little over a year old, you demanded an olive.

That is called, juxtaposition, Noah. 

The order for these blogs is all wrong

Be that as it may, here is a video of you blowing the shit out of some dandelions. I do hope your coordination gets better soon.

Noah makes a call

Just before we got hold of some dandelions, you wanted to make an important business call to Dandand. Mummy left the camera rolling. Hilarity ensued.

Blowing dandelions

I don't really know exactly how it came about, but you adore being outside. In the morning, when we first go into your room, often the first few words out of your mouth will involve the word, "Outside." The other day, we went to the park and we showed you how to blow dandelions.

You can't do it. 

Look at the magnificent faces you pull when you do it. Your mummy magnificently captured them for everyone's amusement.

Skuttlebug

Poor Richard next door has suffered a stroke. He is blind and lived alone. He often got confused with things so when his confusion got really bad, no one was quite sure what to make of it. Long story short, he had a stroke and is now moving into a home. You love Richard. You spend a lot of time talking to him when he stands at his front door. 

Anyway, his lovely sister, Jackie, gave you this little Skuttlebug thing. You love it. Like everything else you have, you push it around like a broken down car. That's your favourite thing.

In the night garden, in the bath

When your mummy and daddy first saw In the Night Garden, we simply didn't get it. For the uninitiated, In the Night Garden is from the same makers of Teletubbies. The premise revolves around a child who is falling to sleep and as they slip into sleep, all kinds of mad shit starts happening. There is a Ninky-Nonk and a Pinky-Ponk and there is Iggle-Piggle and Oopsie-Daisy. You can see why we didn't really get it, can't you. 

Then we utterly changed our minds. Now, we love that flippin' show. It is brilliant. We love it almost as much as you (that is to say we love it as much as you love it; not that we love it almost as much as we love you.)

Your daddy's and mummy's favourite character is Makka Pakka. He lives underground with a stone in his bed; he walks round a three-wheeled trike and he washes everything he sees with a sponge and bar of soap; and blows a horn. He is definitely representative of someone quite far across the autistic spectrum. He looks like this:

Lazy Mummy and Daddy

Noah, don't think that it hasn't escaped our attention that the frequency with which we update this blog has begun to slip. It will be something of a new resolution, starting from.............now, that we will update more often. It isn't that there isn't a lot going on. Far from it! It's also not that we haven't been taking many pictures or videos. Again, we have loads, it's just sticking them on here. Don't worry, though. We are all over it now.

As I write this, your Mummy is busy at work. At the minute, she works at a company called Monro. It looks like this:

And that is in a place called Coalville. Coalville looks like this:

Meanwhile, your Daddy is on school holidays so he is as smug as this:

And Mummy would like to be off too, but she can't, so she looks like this:

Update complete.