Paul Davidson
Weeknotes 049: Franny-Annie
It’s that one hot, sunny week in September. Piglet chose a summery dress from her wardrobe and demanded bunches. We chased—in the specified order of me, Piglet then Mama—across the moor to the Hancock via the park and pizza. A shade over a mile and Piglet pretty much ran the whole thing. Those legs are getting stronger. I blame all the jumping in the new bed.
Probably the best thing about the Hancock was the concrete rhino outside. Except maybe the elephant. Hello elephant.
Back at work on Monday, the morning was spent in meetings that could have been emails. Happily I had the afternoon off to bimble round a warm beach. We got home the same time as the neighbours and Piglet conquered her fear and went in to play. She took her emotional support flamingo and it was rechristened “Franny-annie”, which is the single funniest thing that she’s heard. She was still giggling to herself about it when we put her down to sleep.
To free ourselves from the prison of endless patting and singing, The Chef trialled two songs and a goodnight. The first two nights went smoothly and I copied. We’re one week in and waiting for the regression, but we have a self-settling toddler.
It being that one sunny week, we snuck in the last BBQ of the year. Granddad’s rubber arm was twisted and he consented to a couple of beers.
The Chef is struggling to shift a chest infection and I’ve relocated to the spare room away from her impression of a chainsaw with a faulty motor. Lying there I realised my dreams have shifted from vivid lockdown tedium back to being forgotten on waking. Can’t say I going to miss them.
Piglet’s newest request is to “have a chit-chat”. It revolves around a little boy on a bike whose shoes have run away and he’s chasing them. It’s been unfolding over the week and I’ll keep you updated if he manages to catch them.
We’re trying to raise her in a considerate way and she has a couple of toys who use they/them pronouns. Piglet hasn’t a clue and the only three genders she recognises are mummy ones, daddy ones and baby ones.
I took to drastic measures on Duolingo to complete the achievements. Frustrated with the score-getters (shut up, I see the irony) and skipped Monday to enter a league with more chill people. And look at this shiny fella:
It totally wasn’t worth it, but I can relax and go back to studying normally now. I don’t understand the people doing it just for the scores; I lost one week to someone with over a million points who’d only learned 800 words. They were literally signing in every day for years and doing the first dozen lessons over and over to rack up high scores. I mean, why?
Anyway. Inspired by the Department of Enthusiasm I’ve made a playlist of the miscellaneous tracks that get mentioned on here. The latest track is from Little Sims, which the whole world (Mercury excepted) thinks is marvelous. Have a gander and chuckle at my atrocious taste.
We rounded off the week with a final pre-6 am start for Daddy-Daughter day. Nap time worked against us for meeting for the playout on the village green. But we took the balance bike out for a whirl regardless and had our first bit of independent whatever-the-balance-bike-equivalent-of-cycling-is.
12 September 2021