Tag Archives: Bear

Storytime

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Wiser folk than I say the art of storytelling was lost when we started writing things down. I’m sure something changed forever the first time someone put chisel to stone, but we also gained in the process. I love writing. The feel of my Waterman fountain pen on fine moleskin paper, or biro on the shopping list pad, or pencil in a notebook. I love books. Crisp new books, never before touched by human hand. Secondhand books whose history I share with unknown readers who maybe left a shopping list or a boarding pass behind as a clue. Library books shared with a whole community. I love them all. I even managed to save a few books from my own childhood to share with Bear. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Mary Poppins, The Water Babies.  When I was pregnant I bought a book for him each month. My postnatal hormones wouldn’t allow me to read Dogger without crying for at least a year!

I love reading too. Bear calls any book without pictures a “mummy’s book.” I love being pulled in from the first sentence. Well-crafted description is so satisfying. Believable dialogue makes the characters leap out and into a future beyond the confines of the pages. The last sentence of a book can make it or break it. I love a happy ending, but I’d rather have a sad one than fake a happy one.

And yet. Sometimes stories just have to be told for the sake of it. If it’s unwritten, the ending can change each time. The plot can thicken or dilute according to the time available and the audience. Some stories are good only good for the moment. Others would completely lose their meaning if they were written. Sadly, we mostly only tell made-up stories for our children now. Bear even likes stories that are simply about his day. There doesn’t have to be a point to them. His favourite is about going on the Clipper. Before he started school we used to sit on the same bench in the park every Wednesday for the same story about a dinosaur called Eric. He can make up stories too. It’s great. It’s another way for him to make sense of his world. My Dad used to make up bedtime stories for Auntie and me. I can remember them now, but I bet Auntie remembers them differently and Dad differently again. Making up stories for Bear would be too much for him now, but he’s always enjoyed reading to Bear at bedtime. This evening, after Bear had got his pyjamas on and brushed his teeth, he clambered onto the sofa next so Grandad could read to him. Whatever day it is, that’s a perfect ending.

Architect of the Week

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Bear received a set of wooden bricks for his first birthday from Grandma & Grandad. At first he could hold one, appreciate the texture and explore it with his mouth. The first time he put one on top of another, Mr. Invisible and I were very excited. He’s building, he’s building! We were jumping up and down.

They have to be his most-used toy. He probably wouldn’t rate them as his favourite. He’d probably choose some noisy piece of plastic that doesn’t often see the light of day. But he goes back to these wooden bricks time and again. He has built train stations, beds for his cuddly toys, castles, even a playground complete with ice cream van.

This afternoon he came up with an ‘Award Tower.’ His world is taken up with all things Olympic at the moment and it’s still almost three weeks to go! I dread to think how much more excited he can get. At the weekend he built an Olympic stadium with a portable toilet block for the ‘Teddy Bear Olympics.’ I am constantly amazed by his individual thoughts and ideas. I love that that he is a totally separate creative being. He’s definitely my Architect of the Week.

Pardon the Pun

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Bear’s laughter is my favourite sound in the whole world. Before he was born, it was Mr. Invisible’s laughter, so I guess that’s now my second favourite. (Please don’t tell him he’s been relegated, although I suspect he already knows!)

Bear comes into my bed every morning for a tickle. My day is never quite right if it hasn’t been started by the tinkling of his laughter. As he gets older I’m going to have to become more sophisticated to extract my favourite sound. Right now, he likes the usual toilet humour (that girls grow out of at some point.) He laughs at magicians and Mike burping in Monsters Inc and Mr. Potato Head in Toy Story. He even has a favourite joke.

Q: ‘Why did the cow cross the road?’  A: ‘Because he wanted to go to the MOOvies!’

Mr. Invisible and I have to laugh every time. He’s taken a while to come up with his own though. His first, a couple of years ago now was, ‘Knock knock.’ ‘Who’s there?’ ‘Mr. Coffee. (pause) Go on laugh!’

He’s just moved onto the next level. Wearing his firefighter outfit earlier, he held up his toy drill and said, ‘Fire….. Drill!’

Mr. Invisible was thrilled to bits with his protégé and I’d like to suggest an amendment to the definition of a good pun. If it’s one you made up yourself, I’d like to add unless you’re under six years old, in which case it’s charming!

Essential Food Group

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One of Bear’s favourite places is the Larder, the café near school in the opposite direction from home. He’s been known to dig in his heels and refuse to move unless it’s towards the Larder (a ploy that doesn’t work!) Most of the time, I say no. We are often doing something else, or I can’t justify the expense. This afternoon he said, ‘Mummy, please can we go to the Larder?’ I was happy he’d asked nicely and it’s been a while so over the road we went.

Bear had a smoothie and a chocolate-bean-biscuit. I went for a flat-white. The Larder do the best coffee on the High Street (which is saying something!) and the most elegant milky-coffee-leaf on top of the flat-white. I was also desperate for chocolate. I haven’t had any in the house for days and I haven’t been near a supermarket due to a food-glut. The stuff you can buy in the newsagents doesn’t come close for me. So there we were, just the two of us indulging in our favourite treats and catching up on Bear’s school day (another caterpillar has turned into a chrysalis – I seriously hope they make it to butterflydom. Bear expects.)

Anyway, I feel loads better now. The moral of the story – never run out of chocolate. Never let the secret stash be completely depleted, especially when there isn’t even as much as a mint chocolate at the back of the fridge.

For the love of a teddy

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Bear came out of school on Friday clutching a very large blue bag. I didn’t need to ask what was in it. He was jumping up and down and the joy spread across his face left no room for doubt. It was finally his turn to bring home the class teddy for the weekend. Each week he has been disappointed that it wasn’t his turn – again! It’s very difficult to explain to a five-year-old that there are twenty nine other five-year-olds who want the same thing and they can’t all have it at the same time.

I’m ashamed to say that I was far from delighted to see his quarry. We had a busy weekend planned and I couldn’t see how we were going to fit in the necessary photographing, printing and writing in teddy’s book. When we got home and read about teddy’s adventures, I was even more despondent. I couldn’t help feeling that after all those children’s tea parties and days out, teddy might be in need of a stiff drink too!

Teddy has been included in all of Bear’s games, he’s been to the school summer fayre, had stories read to him, been cuddled and loved. This evening teddy finally settled down for his last night with us. Bear was distraught. I have spent most of the evening trying to console him and take away some of the fear. ‘I won’t ever see him again.’,’What will happen to teddy at the end of the school year?’ ‘If he goes up with the class next year and every year after that, what will happen to him when the children all move on to different schools?’ Every time I thought he was settled he would start to cry again. When he said, ‘I don’t see how I can ever be happy again,’ I lifted him out of his bed and into mine. There’s no place on the planet that soothes heartache as well as mummy’s bed. Tomorrow we have to return teddy to school. We may even have tears. But I know for certain that he will be happy again. As Mr. Invisible says, he’s never far from a giggle.

A step outside time

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What an exciting day! Bear’s friend, Precious arrived at our house at 8.30 this morning and is now sound asleep in Bear’s room snuggling her cow-girl doll. Her parents are at the hospital for the birth of their brand new baby. We have done ‘normal’ things all day: had breakfast, done lots of crafting, been to the school summer fayre, played camping in the garden, had dinner, played in the bath, read bedtime stories….. How can such ordinary activities go on when something so miraculous and amazing is happening? Doesn’t time stand still for a new baby?

On these occasions, I am inevitably taken back to Bear’s birth. Each time, the memory is softened so that the traumatic bits have been peeled away a layer at a time. Maybe because I’ve told Bear about it so many times, I’m starting to believe the sanitised version myself. I guess life must have been going on outside, but I had no concept of it. I was doing something far more important. When life-changing events take place, time marches on as relentlessly as ever. You just step outside of it for a while. Anyway little treasure, I’m looking forward to meeting you for the first time and to watching you grow into yourself. Thanks for letting us be part of it!

The Icing on my Cake

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The iced biscuits are ready for the school summer fayre tomorrow and so is Bear. Mr. Invisible thinks that iced biscuits aren’t commercially viable and I’m sure he’s right. It takes ages (even though they end up looking very homemade) and they’ll sell for a song. If it was about the money, I’d donate the cost of the ingredients. But it’s so much more than that. The whole school is really buzzzzzing about the summer fayre. Today was a non-uniform day so each child could bring something for the tombola (mostly booze – it’s my kinda school!) and Bear is asking for a ‘Summer Fayre Helper’ sticker so he can help out at our stall. He’ll change his mind when he sees the side shows and the bouncy castle. I’m excited too now and if I happen to see a small fist or two clutching brightly-coloured vaguely flowery biscuits, it’ll be the icing on my cake!

Bird Necklace

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This week I will be mostly wearing …. a bird necklace.

Spending time on what to wear may come across as a bit shallow, but is it really? The image we portray makes a difference to other people’s perceptions and how we are treated. We could argue that it shouldn’t and we might have a point, but the truth is that people make up their minds very quickly (seconds rather than minutes.) The older I get, the less that bothers me but I still want to feel good about myself – for me. When Bear was a baby, my jewellery stayed in the cupboard, well away from those grippy, curious fingers.

So back to the necklace. I spent some time with my nieces earlier. One is just starting and the other just finishing university. We talk about anything, but what we’re wearing always gets a mention. The youngest liked my necklace. She said it ‘tied-up’ my outfit (a black skirt, brown top and flats.) A couple of years ago I went to the exhibition of Grace Kelly’s dresses at the V&A. I was struck by how plain they looked on the mannequins compared to the photos of them as worn by the lady herself. As well as her elegant frame, she used sunglasses, hair pieces, scarves and jewellery to accent her look. I’m often guilty of being in too much of a rush to accessorise, but when it works it can lift my whole day.

In my twenties I thought costume jewellery was for teenagers and that ladies (such as I was!!!) wore ‘real’ jewellery. I’m so glad I came to my senses.

Weightier topics tomorrow – maybe.

Show and Tell

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Bear came out of school this afternoon clutching the dreaded piece of paper. The one that says, ‘Your child has been chosen for Show and Tell this Friday.’ Whoopee! Not only does he have to choose something to talk about, we also have to remember to take whatever it is.

But then I remembered. Problem solved. It’s easy peasy this time because he recently received a letter from her Majesty the Queen. So I suggested it. ‘No mummy. I can’t take that because I have to talk about it.’ Ok, shouldn’t be too much of a problem. If I’d received a letter from the Queen, you wouldn’t be able to shut me up. ‘No mummy. The other children have to be able to ask questions.’

I could think of loads of questions to ask someone who’d received a letter from the Queen. Why did she write to you? Were you excited when you received it? What were you wearing? (Not particularly relevant but I always want to know.) Anyway, it turns out the other children can’t ask questions about a letter from the Queen.

‘So what sort of questions do they ask then?’ I said. ‘Things like, does it have a button to make it talk?’ So basically we’re limited to plastic or fur that may or may not talk. My question would more likely be, ‘Does it have a button to make it stop? No? We’re not getting one then.’

Anyway, it’s not my show and tell, so I’ll just stay out of it.

Puppy Love

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There’s nothing like the aroma of fresh puppy. Life, longing and wholeness all in one sniff. While I can’t say I’d like it as a perfume, neither can I get enough of it! This morning Dogford and I visited a friend’s nine-week-old chihuahua. The puppy wasn’t too impressed when my pooch wagged into his life and started stealing his toys. I guess it didn’t help that he was smaller Dogford’s head.

We let them settle, keeping the youngster on the floor. He might be small, but he’s a whole dog. Although I was desperate for a sniff and a cuddle, I sipped my coffee and bided my time. Before long the puppy was sniffing Dogford’s foot (about all he could reach!) and turning around to allow himself to be sniffed too.

When Dogford was that young, it was exhausting but so much fun. I can only compare it to bringing a toddler home instead of a baby. Mr. Invisible and I used to play ‘puppy tennis’, where you each sit on the floor in a different room and take turns to call the puppy by name. I cried the first time he obeyed the ‘down’ command without help, he wanted to please us so much. His favourite game is still ‘find the cow.’ The toy has changed over the years, but he still loves to seek it out. He even played patiently when Bear was a toddler and hid it in the same place every time!

Dogford hasn’t read the book that says his puppy days are over. He still turns on the bounciness when he meets a young dog and he still loves a cuddle. He’s calmer now though. He steals food less often and he doesn’t steal underpants or socks anymore. I still love the smell of him. He’s every bit the puppy that came home in my arms eight and a half years ago.

If my friend gets even half as much joy from her dog, she’s going to be very happy!