Language

It has been fascinating to observe Little Phoebe's language development. The last time she had an overnight stay here we were giving her a bath. Shirley was dealing with her front end while I came up from behind with a jug of warm water to pour over her back. She glanced over her shoulder and said, "What's he doing?" which took us both aback. Remember - it is less than a month since her second birthday.

She struggles with some longer words but has always been confident about "marmalade". When putting on her winter coat she will request "Hood up!" Her favourite dessert is rice pudding which she calls "ri puddi" but better pronunciation is gradually coming together now.

"Drawing!" means she wants to sit at the dining table with me to do some drawing in one of her big drawing pads. I bought her dry wipe pens in case she got colour on her hands, clothes or the table itself. I am quite happy to giver her time just swishing the pen around, getting control of it but sometimes she will hold the pen gently as I manipulate her hand to create simple drawings like the little girl in the top picture.

Mum and Dad and Grandma and Grandpa all try to limit Phoebe's screen time but she can be very insistent. "Tubbies" is short for "Telly Tubbies" but she easily says "Peppa Pig", "Gruffalo's Child" and "Twirly Woos". She is also quite fond of "Mr Tumble" who she refers to simply as "Tumble".

Being a little girl, she is clearly bemused by the cultural necessity to add "please" to any request she makes and is often required to say that word. Currently, it arrives as a prompted afterthought. It's funny how saying "please" and "thank you" have become the very  emblems of  politeness in English speaking countries.

As I witness Phoebe's escalating language skills I am reminded that I have almost no memory whatsoever of how my own children's language evolution happened. They were helpless babes who couldn't say a thing and then, as if by magic, they became proficient users of English. It is as if I blinked and missed it all. This blogpost will help me to remember how Phoebe grew and learnt to master our language.

In due course "getti" will become "spaghetti" and "Wickbix" will become "Weetabix" as "cuppatea" will become three separate words.



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Is it me?

 

Is it me ?
Or instead of one past-his-sale- by-date homosexual living a pretty hum drum single existence in a picturesque Welsh cottage 
Does it look ( and smell ) like four hormonal smelly teenage boys live in my house? 
Finishing nights, and after a few hours sleep , I’ve reviewed the wreckage .
Now some of the blame must be given to Roger who not only has gleefully stockpiled three discarded pairs of underpants in his crate but who managed to locate my new beard trimmer from inside a wash bag hidden underneath the bathroom sink and dismantle it over the living room Carpet when I was sleeping.
The rest of the mess , I’m afraid is down to me.
Cups and spoons clutter the kitchen tops, the bed looks like I’ve had a troupe of strippers in and I can’t even share what the bathroom looks like without an antiemetic 
On Friday the place was pristine 
Bugger knows how it happens

I took the dogs around to Trendy Carol’s when I did her shop ( she’s still got covid )  

And I made myself a late bucket of coffee before getting stuck in





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Failure

 Failure

The greatest teacher

The best motivator

The way

To show

You

That 

You’re 

Never too

Old

To be taught


Failure

The tool

In which

Humility 

Is earned


Bless you my friends



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