Paul Davidson
Weeknotes 167: Where is your ball of hair at the moment?
2024 started like 2023 ended—on holiday, ensconced in family and panda-like in our lounging. Albeit with different haircuts than we started the week with, but more on that later.
Piglet got to play up to all her heroes on New Year’s Eve and was so pumped she had to be put to bed four times. More of an endurance feat for the adults. When we woke, Grandma stuck her head in and offered to take the kids so we could both lie in. Golly gosh. Our post-fry up lolling about curtailed by a change in Piglet’s energy to a go-outside-or-murder-her mood. Luckily for her we chose to walk along the seafront. Grandma and Granddad are used to knocking it out in 30 minutes, but Piglet stretched it to a healthy two hours by finding interesting sticks and benches.
We’d have loafed about there all day, but the start of the year is also Lǎolao’s birthday and we weren’t missing out on hot pot. They’ve set the spare room up with beds for both kids. Piglet was beyond excited. Even more so as she put up hundreds of wall stickers. Again, she was too pumped and had to, eventually, be moved to Lǎolao’s room to get any sleep.
We built the next day around a solid core of supine laziness. The intention was to buy tickets for Japan and China, but I’d left the passports at home.
Spent the rest of the week at home with our lovely, lovely, perfect bed. Lying in it we could see the goldfinches feeding on the birch.
Flights got booked that evening. We’re going baby! Bagged the bassinet row for an infant who’s certainly going to be too big for one. To celebrate, I fixed Jellyfin so we can watch Ghibli movies before we go. Piglet tried leaving bed while we were booking and we shut that nonsense down. She generally gets three warnings. The first covers accidents. The second is most likely malice on her part. The third is when the repercussions land. Got her in bed in two.
Like everyone else, I enjoyed the 45 year old face of a 16 year old darts player. For reasons, the Cricket Dads Away Day is likely to feature no cricket this year. I found a trip to combine the arrows and the Euros, but it’s on Piglet’s 5th birthday weekend and I’m not sure she’d appreciate a drunken video-call from a lederhosen-clad dad in lieu of actually being there.
While the girls were at The Three Bears me and the Wee Free Man watched Baby Club. If I want to recreate his delight noise Jurassic Park-style when he’s grown, I’m going to need a budgie and a spaniel. Related, he’s learned how to stick his tongue out while blowing raspberries and it’s fair to say he’s delighted by this development.
He’s also rejoined the polite society and is back on the growth charts. A svelte 98th centile. Not that you’d be able to tell from his weaning. Smashing food without regard to stomach size. He’ll be weaned before we head on holiday.
We donated to Daft as a Brush after a wonderfully over the top fireworks show at their Christmas light switch off. Dark skies are back now. We continue to stay up too late playing games and reading. Daytime naps fill the deficit. I’ve bought a cheap mouse to replace a cheaper mouse that doesn’t work to make things easier. Small wins for the big wins. Of which there’ll be more about in Yearnotes when I get round to them.
As I was off, I got to go to CommuniKids with the Wee Free Man, ably abetted by Piglet. Baby classes are inherently fun. Headed to the play cafe in the late afternoon for grub and accidental booze. We were joined by the neighbours friends1. The kids all twerking to Britney was fabulous.
Music this week is courtesy of the algorithm. I’d not heard of Khurangbin, but Anh shared them in her Top 5, so I figure they’re real enough.
The final Saturday before work was spent cajoling Piglet out of pyjamas to head out. Reader, it did not work. We ended up doing animal impression photos and drawing the animals on top with the markup tool. Followed that up byindoctrinating her in her first Tyne-Wear derby. It started with, “Wow! He kicked the ball!” and finished with cheering the “good guys” and booing the “bad guys” for cheating. Got told off by The Chef for that. Made up for it with a fillet of beef which was, even if I do say so myself, woof. Earned my chicken drumstick.
Piglet asked me what wise meant while reading one of her stories. I floundered that it’s using your head and your heart together. If doesn’t really work; it’s more using your head for a long time, but it’s led to a series of cute explanations that she’s using this (points to chest) and this (points to head) before she does anything.
Which made her curious decision when we got home from swimming2 and the cafe even more curious. A stage that, apparently, all small girls go through. She headed off for an afternoon nap (it’s been the season) and when I popped in to check on her she wasn’t there. A brief search turned her up in our bathroom shouting, “Don’t come in!” When she emerged she had a ball of hair in her hand—her secret treasure—and a big grin. We don’t have scissors in that bathroom, so she’d spent half an hour diligently chopping with cuticle scissors.
I’ve not changed my style in 20+ years. The Chef ummed-and-ahhed for nigh on a month before cutting hers. Piglet told us she was going for a nap, snuck out and chopped with abandon. The Chef helped tidy it up in the evening and she’s got a really rather cute bob now. And the Little Princess Trust get some hair out of it.
The Wee Free Man still isn’t crawling.
It’s a word I over-think even in my 40s. Bluey has taught me to be more chill about using it. Anyhow…↩︎
On the way back from swimming Piglet decided she wanted a cat. We told her she couldn’t get one while we have a guinea pig in case Treacle gets eaten. Without missing a beat, she offered, “Treacle will be dead soon. Can we get a cat then?” Cold.↩︎