Telling It Like It Is

Day 107 - 09:59am, 17 April 2019

We go to see a puppet show at the library, except it isn't a puppet show, it's two storytellers. They use a Kamishibai - a Japanese paper theatre - where the story is told with the help of a series of visual story boards, along with songs and musical accompaniments. It's a shame how few children there are, particularly when it is free, because the performance deserves a larger audience. I sit behind Little Master so that I can curtail his interruptions. He doesn't get rhetorical questions or intended silence, rather he feels he needs to answer them. And he also feels the need to bring anything and everything back to his Pokemon obsession, whether the topic deserves it or not.

So I have mixed emotions as I do this. It's great to see him engaged, but I don't want his over-engagement lead to under-engagement for others, particularly as in this instance he is probably the oldest child there. I don't want to feel like I am stifling him and not letting express himself, but I don't want him to become the centre of attention for the wrong reasons. Thankfully, the storytellers take it in their stride and even adapt their story as necessary to honour the views of all those who are present. And surely that is what storytelling is all about, giving a voice to the audience to express their greatest hopes and fears.

The Bell Tolls for Thee

Day 106 - 11:41am, 16 April 2019

Tonight, the world stands in respectful silence, looking helplessly on as Notre Dame burns. Thankfully, nobody is killed, but nonetheless we mourn the loss of the 850-years of accumulated history and heritage that was infused in its stone and wood. It also shows for all the technical advances and progress we have made in recent years, us humans - and the legacies we try to leave - are as vulnerable as we ever were. All it takes is the might of fire and the tyranny of four hours to devastate this iconic feature of the Parisian landscape and break the hearts of not just the 13 million visitors each year but people the world over. 

Flying High

Day 105 - 8:30pm, 15 April 2019

I am on holiday this week. Little Miss wants to go see the new Dumbo, but her brothers won't oblige, so she and I combine a trip to the opticians with a visit to the cinema after. And yes, I admit it, I cried. 

This is Disney at its best, a family movie where good always overcomes evil and the protagonist learns an important lesson about themselves. I quickly forget it's a CGI elephant and am completely absorbed in willing him to fly and rooting for him to find his freedom.

Pam Sunday

Day 104 - 3:24pm, 14 April 2019

It is Palm Sunday or Pam Sunday as Little Miss thought it was called. Inspired by some chalked street art on the way back from church, she decides to brighten our path similarly. Except that her and Little Master become a little carried away and are soon out on the pavement and then all the way up to the top of the road. Her handwriting is a little shaky which means that her "Happy Pam Sunday", looks less like someone's name and more like a four-letter word that begins po_ _. Of course, when the rain comes, everything else is washed away, with the exception of the porn reference. The mind boggles as to what the postman is going to think!  

Creme de la Creme

Day 103 - 4:17pm, 13 April 2019

Muriel Spark died on this day in 2006, aged 88. I vividly remember breathlessly reading The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie in high school. It was one of those few books which made such an impression on me that, as well as recalling the story, I can physically see the hardbook cover in my mind's eye all these years later. It was a very particular shade of mint green, unmistakable. It is also the first book that I can recall breathlessly reading, desperate to know how it ended. I really cared for each and everyone of the characters. Indeed, I secretly wanted to be one of Miss Brodie's set, to be special, to be marked out for great things by the attention of a charismatic leader. Thankfully, there was no such teacher at school, but there were some real characters who inspired us in their own special ways.

I Can See Through You

Day 102 - 9:25am, 12 April 2019

It's a guest water spot today - The Regent's Canal, next to the Guardian offices in York Way where my course is. It is the only course where I have been to where I am asked to put my bag and handbag through a scanner before I am given a pass to enter. I don't mind, but wonder what the security guard is thinking when his x-ray vision reveals a large wine-shaped bottle in my rucksack. I am not taking to early morning drinking, but rather there were promoters outside Kings Cross station when I passed this morning handing out free bottles of a non-alcoholic health drink. It seemed rude to pass it by, but by the time I have trekked with it all the way home to Edinburgh, I may yet regret it.

Which Way to London?

Day 101 - 08:17am, 11 April 2019

I am travelling to London for a course tomorrow, so leave work early to catch the train down. I am one part excited, one part anxious. Travelling, particularly on my own, makes me nervous. I think it's the fact that I have no sense of direction. I'm never sure where I am going to end up.

So thank goodness for Google Maps. Now, with a mobile phone in my hand, I don't have to have a sense of direction, just listen when my phone tells me to turn round and go the other way.  

Growing Pains

Day 100 - 09:18am, 10 April 2019

Little Mister is out at the cinema on his own. Not completely on his own, he is there with his friends, but no adults. They have gone to see a 12-rated film, Shazam, which is fine, because he is, but his friends aren't. There is no phone call so we know that he has made it there and from that point on, the waiting begins. 

We assume a couple of hours for the film to end, then allow another hour or so for him to walk home, even though he could do it in half that time. Then, the niggley-wiggleys begin. You try to ignore them but they are there, seeping into your consciousness, every time you brush them aside. Yet, we don't want to phone him, suggest that we don't trust him. So we sit on our worries for a little longer. Thankfully, my hubby gives in, meaning I don't have to. He sends boy-o a text and gets one back to say he is on his way. 

When he finally appears, he is late in coming back but not late late. Turns out they'd got themselves a drink in the coffee shop in the cinema before coming home, but did not think to share this info with us. I think the time has come to brush up on my "I'm not bothered" face, lest he knows what a worrier i am.

Blown Away

Day 99 - 09:48am, 9 April 2019

I walk from the kitchen to the adjoining sun room without bothering to switch the light on. The moon is low in a cloudless sky, a paper-thin slither of luminosity pinned to an ebony billboard. Because I am looking at it through the window, the glass plays tricks on the eyes. I clearly see a giant, celestial dandelion arcing from its base. It is breathtaking. Underneath, a star - or perhaps a planet, I do not know which - is a single white drawing pin left carelessly in the board at a jaunty angle. Or, just maybe, it could be a single dandelion seed that has parachuted there.

Pyjamarama

Day 98 - 8:02am, 8 April 2019

I get up and go off to work, leaving behind a still blackened house. Little Miss has dancing every morning this week and the boys are planning on spending as much of the day in pyjamas as they can get away with. 

It is amazing how quickly you can leave the house when you are only seeing to yourself and not having to marshal the hoards into some semblance of readiness for the day's activities. I had intended to make the most of the situation and leave the house earlier, that is until the siren call of a sleeping household keeps me in my bed and in my pyjamas right up to the last minute. Quite frankly, at this moment, I can see the appeal of staying in them for the rest of the day.  

It's All About the Bounce

Day 97 - 2:37pm, 7 April 2019

It's the last trampolining before the holidays, except it's not, because according to Little Master, they are already on holiday, thank you very much. School has finished, it finished on Friday. Therefore, he is on holiday. So why, oh why, should he have to go to trampolining in the holidays?

Explaining that the coaching week runs from Monday to Sunday is pure semantics as far as he is concerned. Still, with his sister in the same class, he is going. He adopts the shoulder hunched, woe is me look, as soon as he enters the gym hall. You just know it isn't going to end well.

The odd thing is that he loves trampolining. That boy can bounce and would bounce 24/7 if you would let him. The difference between him and his sister though is that she enjoys the discipline of moving her body in a set way, of making the straight lines, engages with the artistry and the anticipated applause. For him, it's about the sensory input, the being able to feel his body land with bump on the trampoline. It's like a full body stim, so telling him how to do it, where his arms and legs should be, is never going to be a motivator for him, particularly as those straight lines do not come naturally for him, as they do for his sister. 

I think his trampoline class days are numbered.