Snow White and the Seven Teeth

Here’s a quick recount of the new things I’ve experienced this week.

I’ve seen snow, so much snow that the world around me turned into a Winter Wonderland overnight! Our garden looked particularly pretty decked out in swathes of frost. Mommy gave me a piggyback so I could get a good view from our upstairs window.

I saw the snow fall too in little swirls of frosty flakes that was simply the loveliest thing I’d ever seen. Daddy didn’t get to watch it with me because he was at work (although most of the country stayed home, according to the news). Mommy said Daddy would’ve liked to have watched the snowfall with me but he had to go out to bring home the bacon. I don’t eat bacon but I guess Mommy would have gone hungry if he hadn’t.

It won’t be long though before I can eat almost everything because I now have seven...yes, seven teeth! Three new ones to join the four I’d already told you about. They are all coming through in a rush, unsettling and upsetting me sometimes, as they ache and itch in a way that makes me want to gnaw on all sorts of (unsuitable, according to my parents) things. I particularly like wire, rubber flip flops, grown-up fingers and buttons, none of which I’m permitted to have!

To make up for all the things I’m not allowed to chew on, Mommy and Daddy baked a batch of yummy triple chocolate muffins on Sunday. Because they are homemade, with the most wholesome of ingredients, I can have little bits as a treat. And they are ever so scrumptious! Mommy must think so too because they’re almost all gone but as it’s the first time she’s made muffins she obviously needs to taste as many as possible to make sure they’ve come out just right!

Anyway folks, it’s time for my rusk and milk so I’ll bid you good night.

Don’t forget to join me in Ashdown Woods; I need all the reinforcements I can get when I go on the trail of the hunny monster!

A Beary Sticky Situation

Last weekend, my friend Chris (Mr. Robin to you) went on a holiday with his parents and left me in charge of his little patch in Ashdown Woods. Chris is practically an adult at 6 years old, that’s why he’s allowed to have his own scrap of woodland, peopled with creatures from his father’s imagination- a bear of little brain, a depressive donkey and a squeaky piggy.

I am too young to have a full fledged world of my own, though I do have the beginnings of one (I know Mommy & Daddy have noticed me playing games of make-believe where my toys live their lives by complex rules I have set them). Still, it was good to have a go at administering an imaginative landscape that’s ancient compared to mine, and fully formed, unlike mine.

I went down to the woods the first chance I got last Saturday to say hello to my new subjects, but there was no-one around! All the windows were tightly shut and on each door hung identical signs- ‘NO WAN ET HUM’!

I stood in the clearing between the little cottages, befuddled, and wondering what to do. Where had everybody gone? Could this be the end of my brief career as the (acting) ruler of a country of fictitious critters? Pom-Pum-Tum (dramatic background music)

I was about to throw in the muzzie and go home when I heard a squeak and a rustle. And then I saw the tip of a curly pink tail disappear quickly into a crack in one of the tiny houses. They were there after all, just hiding!

Ooh, I do love a game of Hide and Seek but I figured I should introduce myself first.
“Piglet!” I cried, “Eeyore and Pooh, come out and play with me. I’ve brought toys and I have so many good ideas for games!”
“Go home” yelled a little voice, “And take your grubby, hunny-grabbing paws with you!”
“Yes” quavered another, “We don’t want your games. We just want our hunny back!”
“But I haven’t taken your honey!” I cried, feeling a tad aggrieved, “I’m not allowed to have any till I’m one. I can prove it...” And I picked up my heels and hurried home.

I wasn’t running away from the problem, you understand, I was heading home to dig into Mommy’s Baby File where I knew I’d find proof of my innocence. I was ever so quiet as I went about my business because Mommy doesn’t like me messing with her important papers. Little does she know that though I may look like I'm playing, I'm really making sure everything is in order as she can be a wee bit scatty sometimes (don’t tell her I said so)! I found what I was looking for at the bottom of a pile of 'Baby Do’s and Don’ts'. Written in bold on the ‘What Not to Feed Baby’ chart were the crucial words- ‘BABY IS NOT ALLOWED HONEY TILL HE’S ONE’!

Just as I was about to scamper back, I was scooped up and held tight.
“Gotcha” Mommy said, “Playing with my papers again!”

Caught red-handed- was this the end of the road for me and my woodland friends?! Pom-Pum-Tum (more dramatic background music)

I was disheartened momentarily till I remembered that this was Mommy and she always understood. So I told her everything. She listened with interest and then suggested that on top of the baby food chart as evidence, wouldn’t it be a good idea to take them a jar of honey to replace what they'd lost?

As I returned to the clearing bearing gifts, all the critters came tumbling out of their hidey holes, at first warily, and then with alacrity as news of that large pot of honey spread.

Eeyore took a good long look at the ‘Baby Do’s and Don’ts’ chart with his reading glasses awobble on his snout, and then declared to the gathering with his usual gravitas- “HEE NUT TEK DA HUNNY”. They cheered loudly in response and gathered ‘round for their share.

I had won the day. And when Pooh offered me some of his small (by his standards) portion of honey, I knew I’d made friends too (I didn’t have any of it, I swear; oh, maybe just a little, but it's not a patch on chocolate)!

All's well that ends well, you say, but one problem remained...

Who had stolen their honey???
Pom-Pum-Tum (dramatic background music reaches a crescendo)

Join me for the next instalment as I return to Ashdown Woods to hunt down the heinous hunny thief!

A Whirlwind Week

Well, folks, I’m back after a week packed with activity and have I got news for you- I’ve now got two front teeth to complement the two bottom ones that had come out earlier!! I’ve also joined a playgroup and I don’t know which is better: the front teeth with which I can munch on crunchier snacks such as baby biscuits and my favourite carrot and coriander flavoured corn chips or being part of a playgroup which gives me access to a whole new collection of toys to play with (bash up, Mommy says). I can also have a sophisticated tête-à-tête with Erin’s mommy or Jason’s gran at the playgroup. Mommy says I’m supposed to mingle with the other babies but can I help it if I find the state of the economy more interesting than ‘goo-goo-ga-ga-poo-bah’? Luckily, it’s not an either-or; I can have both the nibbles and the play sessions!

Bet you’re wishing you could trade places with me, but even a baby’s life is not all fun and games. Earlier this week, I had to look after Mommy and Daddy when, first, Daddy went down with a terrible case of food poisoning and then, Mommy caught a mild strain of the bug. I did my bit by sticking to Mommy like glue and complaining loudly if she left me for a moment, which I felt was the best way to take her mind off their troubles. A big thank you though to Aunties Diane and Cate for being such a huge help to Mommy and Daddy (almost as much as me!) and even to the local doctor who came out to see Daddy when he could barely get up after 16 hours of unrelenting sickness.

We also attended Great Grandma’s funeral last week. Whilst it was a very sad occasion, it was also a celebration of her life and love for family and friends. And so, amidst the sorrow, some funny, some sweet anecdotes about her were read out at the ceremony, as well as swapped at the gathering afterwards. Two of her favourite songs were played (very nice ones; I tried to sing along but Daddy shushed me). Cousin Eleanor and Cousin Matthew who are both about two years old and I (over 8 months now) impressed everyone with our good behaviour during the ceremony. So, despite the overcast morning and sombre event, it was not without joy and I think that’s how Great Grandma would have wanted it.

To end on a happy note, I must mention that my blog has had it’s 500th hit tonight. This is particularly satisfying as I disabled the cookies (mmm, wonder where that last bit of bickie went?) on our own computer from the start, so, when Mommy or Daddy or I visit my blog it does not count, which means some of you out there have returned more than once to read about my adventures! What could be more gratifying to a baby blogger?? Thank you all and good night!

In Vein

I went to the hospital for my kidney tests today. I have had a dodgy kidney since I was in Mommy’s tummy. It is only marginally wonky, but the doctors have conducted a lot of tests on me to find out why it doesn’t work as well as it should. As none of the tests were conclusive, they asked us to come in for a ‘Maggie’. A Maggie is a test where they pass a tiny dose of radioactive fluid through a vein so they can follow it’s journey through the kidney and find the blockage. When Daddy explained this to me, I quite fancied being mildly radioactive like a superhero (which, of course, many of my fans think I am, but I’m not. Not really) but it didn’t turn out to be much fun after all.

I haven’t been very well lately and hadn’t slept much when I was awakened at 6 am (I could’ve said ‘rudely’ but actually Mommy woke me up with milk and a cuddle) to go to the hospital. We arrived early and were shown into a playroom where I found a drum to bang on (give me a noisy toy and I’m content) and thought this may be a good day after all. But it was not to be. I should have guessed when the strange wheezy baby next to me was taken away that this was not a happy place for babies.

First, I was stripped and weighed on freezing cold scales, then stretched on this rack like thing to check my height. As a final indignity before the main tests began, a wee bag was left dangling from a certain part of my body- embarrassing and uncomfortable!

I was then taken down to the ultrasound room where a doctor spread an icky goo on my chest and back and then prodded me for the next twenty minutes with a cold thingammie whilst the very irritating Tinky Winky, Dipsy and Lala pranced on strings above me. What really got my goat was that he totally ignored my cries of protest to stare fixedly at some squiggly grey things squirming on a screen. Mommy told me later that he was looking at pictures of my kidney, which is all very well, I know people find every inch of me fascinating, but couldn’t I have been spared the torture of the dancing Teletubbies?

Finally, the big moment arrived and I was put on another icy table to be prepped for ‘Maggie’. I had a grim foreboding that this was not going to be a lark when they put numbing anaesthetic gel on my hands and feet. As if not being able to feel your extremities wasn’t bad enough, the nurse then brought out a battery of needles and started sticking them into me! I howled and howled. I howled so hard that Mommy burst into tears! Daddy carried on stoically jiggling a purple spotted bear (was it ill?) in front of me but I could see he wasn’t too keen on proceedings either.

But it was all in vain (it’s a good thing we, babies, have short memories, I can now see the funny side of this morning’s events). Once they had jabbed me in every conceivable place looking for a vein to stick the intravenous tube into and drawn a blank, they had to call it off, but not before I’d managed to pinch the nurse hard for making Mommy cry and me, feel like a pincushion!

I slept all the way home after that and woke to kisses and cuddles from Mommy and Daddy, and milk, the cure for all ills (sadly, not for a loopy kidney)!

Unfortunately, this story doesn’t end here as I may be recalled for a Maggie when I’m slightly older and have less elusive veins, but we are all keeping our fingers crossed that the consultant looks at the results of the string of tests taken today and declares me well enough to be given the ‘all clear’!

Missing you, Great Grandma.

Love
Syon
xxx

Months of Milestones

What a year it’s been (well, just short of 8 months, really, for me)! So packed full of milestones that I don’t know where to start when it comes to rounding it up for my readers...

First, of course, there was my birth in May which was quite eventful according to Mommy and Daddy, though I don’t remember that much about it. I gather it took a long time and quite a bit of pain to bring me into the world (even I remember those nasty forceps)! Mommy says what she got in the end (me!) was worth all the pain and she would do it again (but just the once more).

Then, there was getting to know all my family and friends, and their generosity, as visitors bearing gift after wonderful gift arrived at our home following my birth. As I’d mentioned in an earlier post, I quickly organised my new toys into a smoothly functioning unit of cohorts with me, firmly, in charge! That was just the beginning of all the things I learnt to do in the space of a few months. And now I can walk a few steps unaided (as long as I can grab-a-hold of something sturdy)!

Most of all, I can now show Mommy and Daddy how much I love them in return for all the love and care they shower upon me. My face lights up when I see them, I smile when they smile and my little arms reach out and hold them tight when I want to demonstrate how much they mean to me.

I also got to know and love my Grandma and Grandad, and all my English family, with whom I went on my first holiday to France (and with whom I spent my first magical Christmas, but I’ll get to that later).

I also spent a fantastic month with my Dida who flew to the UK to meet me. We grew to know and love each other, as I did the rest of my family in India. With the latter, mostly through phone calls and webchats because I haven’t met them yet but will very soon! I did get to meet my uncle and aunt from Switzerland who visited me when I was very young and though, regrettably, I can’t remember them that well, the Jumperoo they gave me opened up a whole new world of fabulous adventures for me.

While my Dida was here, we celebrated my first solid feed or ‘Annaprashan’. I was fed from specially inscribed lovely silver crockery sent by my Indian family, with all my English friends and family in attendance, which made it a very special day indeed. My Dida left soon after but I am still singing the songs she sang to me while she was here.

The year ended with a brilliant Christmas celebration at my Grandad and Grandma’s house where we ate and drank and made merry but we also missed Great Grandma’s presence as she fell ill and had to, sadly, be hospitalised (thinking of you as I write this, Great Grandma, and hoping you get better soon). I got so many terrific toys, colourful books and attractive clothes from all of my family and friends that I wouldn’t know where to start if I had to list them (best not to, in case Santa thinks he can skip next year)!

But before that, on Christmas Eve, I clocked up another exciting first when I went on my first train ride from Chesterfield to Sheffield as Mommy and Daddy took me to meet their friends and workmates. I met Liz and Karen from Daddy’s team and spent a fun few hours with Unca Brian and Aunty Carola in Sheffield, nipping across to Mommy and Daddy’s old workplace (where they'd met!) to meet Unca George and Aunty Hana too. Off we went to Donny after that, touching base with my friends Eddie and Evan before we got down to the serious business of a family Christmas!

Phew. What a momentous few months it has been. And I’ve got so much to look forward to in the New Year starting with the long awaited trip to India to meet some very special family members like Dadu and Mashi and Budida.

2009, are you ready for me? Coz here I come!!!

Note: Do watch my Christmas slideshow for all my festive photos.

A Merry Missive

To
Mr Santa Claus
North Pole
SAN TA1


Dear Great Unca Nick,

This is the second letter I’m writing to you, this time to let you know that I have found the perfect gift for Mommy and Daddy and won’t need your help after all. Do you remember I said I didn’t know what to get them (they seem over the moon having got me this year and are always saying there’s nothing more they want)?

Well, I thought about it long and hard and decided that since they say I’m the best thing they’ve ever had, I should really get them something along the same lines; no, not another baby, they’ll have to ask the Stork for that. But I could get them a better version of me (I know you're thinking, like Mommy and Daddy, that that's not possible)!

Let me explain. Remember Jack Nicholson in ‘As Good As It Gets’ telling Helen Hunt that she makes him “want to be a better man”? Well, Mommy and Daddy’s infinite love and care makes me want to be a better baby.

Don’t get me wrong- I’m no angel and never will be! My world wouldn’t be the same without my daily diversions of pulling Mommy’s hair and pummelling my toys with my plastic hammer. Persistently throwing things from my high chair so my parents pick them up time and again is a teatime treat I couldn’t live without. And I really couldn’t get through a meal without grabbing my spoon and dashing it to the ground just as Mommy brought a big, wobbly spoonful to my mouth. You’ve got to admit giving these innocent little distractions up would be asking too much of any spirited baby. And that’s not the kind of cold turkey I have in mind for Christmas!

What I have been doing in my spare time (in between feeds and play sessions; I don’t nap, such a mindless waste of time- yawwwn) is perfecting my crawl for Mommy. I’ve been practising when her back’s been turned so she thinks I can’t crawl properly yet, but I can really. I’ve been pulling the wool over her eyes (a marvellous metaphor for a Christmas post, methinks!) with my deliberately ungainly caterpillar crawl but come Christmas morn, I shall unveil my new super-smooth slither! I figured it would be a good gift for her because I can then go wherever she goes without her having to pick me up as I am getting quite heavy (and she isn’t very big for a ‘big person’).

For Daddy, I’ve sussed sitting up unassisted so we can have a man-to-man grapple and play other macho games when he comes home from work every day! But there's this little business of falling over I still do which I need to straighten out before the big day. I’ve been trying to learn to stand without support as well but I don’t think I’ll have that wrapped up for Christmas. And although I can’t stand yet, I do have my feet firmly planted on the ground and know that that might have to be my Valentine to my two favourite people (always a forward-thinking baby, me)!

I suppose Valentine’s pressies are outside your remit Santa; you wouldn’t have Cupid’s address, would you?

Christmas Cuddles,
From Syon

Lincoln Green

We went to the Christmas Market in Lincoln last Saturday with Grandma and Grandad. I was left to look after them the evening before when Mommy and Daddy flounced off to a Christmas do with our neighbours. I had a great time with them although I think I rather worried them with my histrionics at bedtime (but what’s a thespian to do?)!

We had seats on the morning train to Lincoln. However, despite getting there in time (against all the odds), we weren’t allowed on because they had overbooked! The next train was a whole hour away so we decided to drive to Lincoln instead. I suppose we were a little bit green (a good colour to be, at Christmas!) to think that the path to Lincoln would be smooth on a day when 80,000 visit their festive market, but I would have loved a ride on the ol’ choo-choo. Maybe we’ll try an Indian train when we’re there next year (though Mommy says they get a tad crowded too)!

Once we got there, we had a brilliant time although we were very, very cold. At least, that’s’ what my parents and grandparents said as they knocked back brandy, liqueur and mulled wine! I kept warm by snuggling against Daddy (in my sling).

The market took up all of the historic quarter of Lincoln; stalls dotted the cathedral close and jostled for space in the castle square. And swirling around each was a tumultous sea of beady-eyed bargain hunters. Mommy, Daddy and my grandparents all agreed with me that we should return on a weekday next year, because although the Christmas market was wonderfully colourful and cheery and bags of fun, it was so packed we couldn’t get close enough to the stalls to do any shopping and all we came home with was a handful of nuts (yummy cinnamon coated ones though)! Oh, and a lovely Christmas wreath of orange peel, dried chillies and cinnamon sticks that now hangs in our hall.

On Sunday morning, Mommy, Daddy and my grandparents helped me do up our six-foot Christmas tree with pretty baubles from India, England and Germany, and a very special new one with my name on it which Grandma and Granddad had brought me for this, my very first Christmas!

With the house looking festive and the shopping done, I’m all set for my first Christmas. I would count the days if I could count but what I can do is keep my very sharp baby ears pricked for Santa...

Is that you I hear on the roof?!!

Busy B

I’ve been a very busy baby lately that’s why I haven’t posted anything new on my blog for a while. But yesterday when my fans staged a protest march and a hunger strike outside my home, I felt compelled to issue an apology for my silence. I did not want rumbling tummies on my conscience, nor Mommy upset about people peeping through our windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favourite baby blogger.

I am truly sorry I haven’t written, but my fans will have to learn to occasionally get through the week without my pearls of wisdom to guide them, because my diary is simply heaving with engagements all the way up to the New Year.

This week I’ve been Christmas shopping. I shopped till I dropped (off to sleep) but I still have some gift hunting left to do. Such is the plight of a baby with a large social network. It does seem unfair that Mommy and Daddy can sit back (unlike me) and let Santa get all my gifts from the list I've sent him!

I also attended my first birthday party. Not my own, as I am just over 6 months old, but a really fun party thrown by my much older (a whole 6 months!) friend Sol in Sheffield. While all the girls swooned over me and Sol, Mommy tried all the desserts. Daddy wouldn’t let me sip his champagne but we shared a banana which kept me happy till tea time.

Then, on Monday, we took Mommy to hospital for her operation. She put on a green tent-like thing and disappeared behind some doors. I couldn’t wave to her although I wanted to, because I couldn’t move my arms much in my big warm overalls, which I was wearing for the first time as it was a particularly frosty morning. I didn’t get much time to feel sad about it though because Mommy popped out of the operation theatre just a quarter of an hour later to say that she didn't need one after all! The doctor, who’d seen her a month and a half ago, had had another look and was pleasantly surprised to see that the problem area had (finally) healed and no intervention was necessary, which was fantastic news.

And that was the week that was, folks. I promise to try and write again real soon although I have another busy week ahead, full of parties and more shopping and my first trip to the hair dresser (sadly, not for me, though I quite fancy a new look to go with my new teeth)!

A Fangtastic Development

After months of angst (and dribble), I have got to the root of my troubles- there is a growth and it’s in my mouth. In fact, there are two (and a half) of them and they are called teeth!

They look and feel a tad strange, like bits of chewy baby rice I’ve forgotten to swallow. I was in great discomfort when they were coming through but now I wouldn’t be without them (although I will have to part with them in a few years, I’m told, but only to make way for others). What are the advantages of teeth you cry, my baby brethren, when they cause us such pain and grief?

Well, for one, I have a dazzling new smile. Show me one Hollywood hunk without pearly whites and I will show you…a baby; a baby who will only ever do the one role and then disappear from our screens forever! And it’s not just about superficialities like appearance, everything I do seems to have more bite (hardy har har).

Chomping on my parents’ fingers is so much more satisfying than it used to be; the occasional anguished scream when I sink my new teeth in is also quite exciting! Plus, I can now show my two toy pooches, Popsi and Pru, who’s boss with a well placed nip or two. Two can play at the same game, you see!

But most importantly, my gastronomic horizons have broadened beyond belief. Just yesterday I was having milk, milk and more milk. Today I can have nibbles, finger foods and little snackeroos I can play with before I eat! It makes my head spin just thinking of all the wonderful new munchies I can get my two (and a half) teeth into!

What more can I say to persuade you to grow teeth, my infant friends, except that it is your passport to foodie heaven? Talking of Foodies, this one must now toddle off to have his tea...

I Can Be Obama

Yes, I can.

Mommy cried when Barack Obama gave his US presidential election victory speech at 4 am on Wednesday (or maybe she cried because I’d kept her up all night). She told me that Obama is a beacon of hope for many people around the world. Then she said I was the light of Mommy and Daddy’s life (Daddy verified this so it must be true) therefore, I am their Obama, only smaller and cuter (though he isn't half-bad, according to her). When I grow up, I could be as inspirational as he is (or more, she said; my mommy doesn’t expect much)!

Mommy and Daddy said (all this at the crack of dawn) that I have a lot in common with President-elect Obama. I am a ‘half-outsider’ like him with an ‘unusual’ (but beautiful- Daddy emphasised) name. They hope, like him, these things can be my strength rather than my Achilles Heel (some kind of wonky body part). Like him, they hope, I can succeed on my own terms, shrugging off labels and stereotypes, proudly owning both sides of my heritage, and never watering down who I am to suit other people.

Barack Obama didn’t run to the Deed Poll people when his countrymen couldn’t tell him apart from Osama Bin Laden. When they made fun of a picture of him in a turban, he didn’t disown his Kenyan background, nor did he distance himself from his white family when some people questioned whether he was truly ‘black’. That’s the man Mommy and Daddy believe I can be (not half-Kenyan and half-American, you understand, though I could legitimately sport a turban).

If I am that kind of guy, Mommy says, the world would be my oyster. Maybe a half-closed oyster that has to be prised open, like it is with a lot of people outside the ‘mainstream’. I might have to chip away at it long and hard before opportunities open up to me, but if I have talent and guts and determination (which I shall have in spades, my parents said), then I could make it mine.

I can be Obama. Yes, I can.

But I’d rather be Lewis Hamilton (it looks like more fun)!

Note: Pictured here with my running mate Gerry the Giraffe, who is of African origin; a truly diverse partnership!