One day, not so long ago LP came into our lives and totally took over. Whatever we were doing before seems like a dress rehearsal for having our we girl. YM and I had to wait way too long for our daughter, we must have been in the remedial Mummy and Daddy class and put back a few terms, but all the cool kids are, I guess! So, if I plan this right Gentle Reader you should be reading this whilst LP is fast asleep cuddled up next to her new best friend “Dooigie” whilst YM and I run about like headless chicken’s, wrapping prezzie’s and finishing off preparing Christmas dinner in order to allow me the opportunity to sit down for an hour and a half on Christmas Eve to become an emotional wreck, and it takes very little to push me over the edge these days, watching Marley and Me.
LP asked me to say, “Babble dum bab da bum de”, which, as I
am sure you are all aware, means Happy Christmas to you all of you with love
from LP and her Mummy and Daddy
YM and I have the best Christmas present we could ever wish
for…………… a Dyson handheld vacuum
Nah, only kidding………J
Two Happy Parents….
A wee while ago LP was delivered into our lives by the
Stork. YM and I both remember the day the time the moment when we first saw her
and fell totally and utterly in love as she blew a snot bubble from her right
nostril. We realised that from that moment forward, life would never be the
same for any of us ever again and we would have to face facts that our lives
were over and “snuggle time” would be a thing of the past.Talking of love, YM and I had met and fallen in love on or about the day that YM organised a motorbike escort to take us to my mother’s funeral (Loooong story) Life before this, for me at least, could best be summed up by the words of Grace Potter, who sang “life ain’t good, but it ain’t boring”. I felt like I had lived a life less ordinary (Wee tip of the Hat to Graham Greene) before YM and I ever met and that, for the decade before LP came along, we enjoyed ourselves for the most part, filling our lives with work, friends, a rather crazy hound and a love of papier-mache modelling to 1:24 scale. Despite all this, YM and I always knew there was something missing. Trying to fill this void caused both of us a world of heartache and pain. The years passed by until one January we thought “What if”. This “what if” started as a hope and then, in time, grew into a reality. The route of the Paris to Dakar Rally (I’ll avoid using the term “journey”) is most probably smoother than the one we travelled. Despite the twists and turns neither of us gave up, in my case, probably due to the fact YM would have maimed me. Step by step, every obstacle which was placed in our path was overcome and took us closer until…
One warm summer afternoon we were greeted by LP.
Three Boogie Babies……
Ah Boogie Babies, The Real Housewives of Broughty Ferry, the
exquisite Pecan encrusted Tray Bakes, the singing, the interpretative dance and
the wonderfully enthusiastic, and matronly in a good way, if you know what I’m
sayin, Boogie Lady. Need I say more?
Goodness yes. LP loves her Friday morning visits to the BB Chapter House and I
try to make the most of “creative flexi” in order to attend with her. I’m not
convinced that the Boogie Lady is as enthusiastic about me accompanying LP, at
least not after the “unpleasantness” which I have been instructed by the Courts
not to speak of, however if you were of a mind you would be able to read about
in my previous ramblings.
Unfortunately I was unable to escape from doing good work in
the community last week in order to
attend the Boogie Baby Christmas party, however, I was press-ganged by YM into
baking two dozen cupcakes for LP to take along to the party as her gift to the
ruddy faced Children of Broughty Ferry, one of whom had previously stolen
Daddy’s traybake and was then forced to hand the masticated sweetmeat back to
me by his mother who was oblivious to the fact that I am not too keen on
sharing my own daughters snot, never mind a complete strangers. So thanks to a
hefty dusting of edible glitter there will be a lot of sparkly poo happening
for the next few days which will no doubt disturb both parent and child.
Apologies for the ‘scatter gun approach’ but in every conflict friendly fire
seems, sadly, to be expected….
Nice one LP. Revenge is sweet.
Four Baby Gates........
Dear Santa, I have been an OK Daddy for the past 5
months. Can I have another Baby Gate and
a bag of tennis balls, please?
I was considering
using the Tennis umpire cry of “New Balls Please” but I figure it may be too
obvious. Alas I am not attempting to follow in the footsteps of our very own
Sports Personality of the Year (sorry Andy and readership, but I find the title
ironic as my fellow Scot is not known for his Jeux De Vie) but I do require
said tennis balls to cover the gonad height metal bolt which sticks out and
becomes Preditor movie style invisible as I walk towards it. In life most
pointy things appear to be covered with a burst Tennis ball, especially in
church halls,perhaps reflecting in a biblical way the protection of faith and
acting as a green beacon of hope to those unfortunates who would impale
themselves. Furthermore I would envisage that said tennis balls would give the
hound hours of fun as she attempts to, but fails abysmally to extricate them from
the gate. It’s a win win situation really. That said, YM, forever the voice of
reason (!!!!) thinks I should simply get used to shutting the baby gates all
the time as this means that we will never leave the gates open and prevent the
problem of LP climbing up stairs and playing with the pneumatic Nail Gun.....
Again. Good call Mrs Health and Safety. One Day LP will be old enough to dispense with injury inducing stair gates and go to B&Q, so that I may vicariously learn how to hammer a nail in straight, or, as recent weeks would, sadly prove, lay vinyl floor tiles.
For the sake of this Yuletide ditty I shall attempt never to speak of such things again....... Save to say...
There are times when our normal chatterbox LP will suddenly go a little quiet, perhaps a
little too quiet if you know what I mean. Observe the pursed lips the frown and
then the demonic smile. Gentle Reader, LP has just completed an, apparently,
quite satisfying code brown before your very eyes.
One, two, three AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARG!
Six Emergency Dummies........
I have a feeling that YM will pop out to the shops to buy a pound of Lorne Sausage.. or “Sassaj” as they say round here, and the next time I will see her will be on GMTV with Lorraine Kelly (Yum) live from a run down Court House surrounded by mastachioed Police Officers (YM not, dear sweet Lorraine).
Where is this going? Yes, I can hear you ask... or is it the
voices again... Hmmm. Anyways YM has the ability to secret Dummies about her
person and then whip em out (so to speak) on que. The que in question being an
LP meltdown which can’t be addressed by singing I’m a little teapot (with
moves), raspberries to the tummy or indeed Calpol. In these circumstances it’s good to
know that YM will be able to, no matter where she is, reach down, in or indeed
up and grab a dummy with which to pop into LP’s mouth.
I never cease to be
amazed by YM and the valuable lessons she learned whilst on a Gap Year
in Thialand.
Seven Clothing
Malfunctions....
One winter, many years ago I worked as a Chef in a French
ski resort. T’was in that sleepy
mountainside village that I wore White
Stuff for the first time. Over the years, prior to LP, it would be fair to say
that I amassed a rather large collection of White Stuff clothing and
accessories all before it became the Uniform of Harry and Kate at St
Andrews. Sadly those days are gone now
and in the past they must remain....as the song goes, for both YM and I now
realise that with a homemade Strawberry Jam and Brioche encrusted LP any
thought of dressing with even a smidgen of sartorial elegance goes out of the window. A fellow survivor
who, it should be said, was never really known for his dress sense advised me
that cargo pants are the way forward as they can be filled with a cornucopia of
handy items which allow LP to go outside in relative safety. Nappies, Sudocrem,
bonnie wee hat, gloves, stun gun, those wee scissors for cutting bairn’s nails
as LP seems to be able to grow super sharp ones and then attempt to carve her
name in, thankfully, inanimate objects, maragolds and in place of coal tongs,
which would cause all sorts of questions to be asked by passers by in ASDA,
doggie poo bags, which in may respects are so so wrong yet soooooo right.
Talking of dogs... in a round about way. I like to think I
am a man who can carry off a pink shirt of an evening. My metrosexual bent is
however in jeopardy for the same reasons as we had a beige flat (including carpets).
Beige, Gentle Reader, covers a multitude of sins. A fact I was unaware of in my
youth, but one which might have prevented a lot of awkward questions. It was clear
that having the Hound for one week required us to spend the next eight years
painting the flat Forth Road Bridge style in Beige paint to cover up the many
doggie related incidents. In the same way I have taken to wearing beige in an
attempt to make it less obvious when I have been secreted on by LP.
Beige is definitely the new black.
Eight missing screws.....
Gentle reader, let me explain. Many of you will think I am
talking of myself and my seven imaginary friends. This is not the case. I am actually talking about missing screws.
Here’s the thing, I have many tools, more tools than I know what to do with and
operate with any degree of safety. I’m not sure of the difference between a
wood and a metal drill bit, I tried to use a coving (mmmmmm, coving) mitre box
as a regular mitre box to cut skirting board. Nuff said about that, save to say
YM had to buy an occasional table to hide my shame. You get the picture though.
Screwdrivers. I have many. Some Flatheaded some Philips, some which light up
when I attempt to play with electricity prior to isolating at the mains... note
to self: Don’t make the same mistake twice). Anyway what I don’t have is a wee
teeny screwdriver. In reality I have many but I don’t put things away properly,
or so I am constantly reminded. LP has many toy’s. I have a feeling Santa will
bring her many more. The wee screw that secures the clip on the battery
compartment of various toy’s and automatons did not mean a whole lot to me
prior to LP. I would simply hack into it with a pointy knife and loose it in
the shag pile. No longer. Gentle reader, Since LP came along I now understand
the true meaning and indeed value of this screw. Never again will it be abandoned
as it is the front line in preventing LP accessing the battery compartment and
attempting to stick them up her nose.
Little Person/Duracell Bunny.... Just say No!
Nine broken phones....
OK so slight exaggeration. It’s not nine broken mobiles. Two
well chewed mobiles and two malfunctioning TV related remote controls. From the
get go LP has had a fascination with mobiles and remotes. I find it hard to
remember a day going by when YM and I don’t find ourselves frantically looking
under furniture and checking bins for these objects. At this time of year it’s
probably worse. I blame myself, I really do. In an attempt to moderate LP’s
wild ways post white chocolate consumption I have taken to making idle threats
that Santa won’t be visiting unless she behaves. Of course all these idol
threats are indeed idle and hardly real threats as LP, for some reason, know’s
that as soon as I mention Santa’s name she can pick up anything which resembles
a phone and communicate directly, in her own special language with the big man
himself. I should imagine that every Little Person has a hotline to Santa. Our
LP just does it sooo much better.
Ten quality breakfasts.....
It would be fair to
say that the Hound is not a vegetarian. Not that our doggie has anything
against vegetarians and would probably eat a whole one at a push. Thus,
breakfast time see’s a rather happy LP and a less than happy hound. The hound
has taken to circling round LP’s highchair Jaw’s fashion in order to wait for
any foodstuffs which LP decides that she can’t really be bothered with. Sadly,
for the Hound at breakfast time there are slim pickings. LP’s breakfast would
be applauded in the finest restaurants in Europe for its colour, nutritional
value and all round loveliness.....Much like Lorraine Kelly. Even in the depths of winter and thanks to a
scant regard for Carbon Footprints LP can enjoy fruit from around the world,
some of which I have failed dismally to remember the names of and have to rely
on Monica my anally retentive Manager and our, in many respect, collectively
unnatural ability, to play Charades in order to differentiate between Physalis
and a Mangosteen.
Eleven swimming
lessons....
LP smiles that sweet Chucky smile as she sits happily in her
safety flotation device which looks like it could be used to save many a poor soul
lost at sea. Swimming with LP is fun if fraught with danger. Oddly enough the
danger is not necessarily water related. Like most things these days, going
swimming with LP necessities leaving the house two hours early and employing
Sherpa’s to assist taking all the necessary accoutrements with us. Swimming is worse! Gentle Reader,
quite simply this is due to a rather lazy YM who apparently has the lung
capacity of a sparrow with emphysema. I am sorry to name and shame YM , I
really am. LP enjoys a bob on the water
in her life preserver which as mentioned previously should have supplies
stashed about its hull and the means to erect a mast...O’h and a flair gun too.
Considering the size of this vessel may I suggest to YM that she deflates it
before shoehorning it into the car.
For shame YM for shame.
Twelve .... well Twelve Hundred, Twelve Thousand, who knows, Friends....
Actually it’s more than twelve but (thankfully) this song only goes up to twelve so twelve it is. I know YM and I am totally biased but LP seems to bring a lot of people a lot of joy, not least YM and I. For those of you who don’t know who Oor Willie is, he’s a character from a long running cartoon strip from around this neck of the woods. You may feel inclined to Google. His tag line of "Oor Wullie! Your Wullie! A'body's Wullie!" rings true in the life of LP too. No matter where you are in the world, there is a little bit of all who care for her with her.
Hopefully you have enjoyed these vignettes. Happy Christmas
and a Good New Year to you all.
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