We were waiting for checkups with our family doctor today, playing with Emma in the waiting room. Imagine our surprise when the receptionist called out: "Ok, Anna, you can take Caroline into the back room and strip her down on the changing table. I'll come in in a minute and weigh her."
She was extremely embarrassed when she realised her error. It must have been our fits of laughter that clued her in.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Favourite programs (Anna)
You hear a lot about the potential dangers of tv watching for young kids. But is there any research on the developmental pros and cons of an almost 10-month-old spending several hours camped out eagerly watching the washing machine?
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Foolish moments (Anna)
For most of my life, I've been told that my jokes aren't funny, so you'd think, by now, I would have learned to keep them to myself, wouldn't you? But no, they continue to slip out of my mouth at inopportune times, even in Canada where people mostly don't even realise I'm joking (humour being a distinctly cultural feature). (I should mention that in Australian and England, people don't think my jokes are funny, either, but they at least know that I'm attempting a joke...sometimes...)
And today, it happened not once but twice in the space of 45 minutes.
I took Emma to the toddler gym at the new local community centre - she's been more or less living there this week since we discovered it. We paid our money and got a receipt. I gave Emma the receipt to hold, and she waved it at the staff member on the way in, who took it. I said, in that singsong voice that parents do so well, "Say thank you". The staff member, at the same time said, "Thank you". I thought it was funny, so I said cheerfully, "Actually I meant her, not you!" The staff member went bright red and stuttered, "I was just thanking her for giving me the receipt, because it's nice to say thank you and I'm trying...", and she trailed off. And she looked at me like I had ruined her day, and I felt ridiculously embarrassed and so did she, and I remembered that I'm a huge idiot who should just keep her mouth shut.
And then not long later, Emma was walking around the gym with a push toy, proudly showing off her balance. A kind Dad nearby smiled at her cuteness and then picked up a ball - which was red - to put in her push toy. Emma immediately grabbed it and started chewing on it with delight, totally animated, grinning and jumping up and down. So I said thank you to the Dad, and added, before I had a chance to censor myself, "When you need to give a baby some energy, give her a red ball" (a play on the caffeine energy drink "red bull"). He gave me a look like I was from another planet and sidled off. He clearly regretted having been kind. I shoud have just said, in a singsong voice, "Say thank you."
So there we have it. It's obviously too late for me, but let's hope that her royal cuteness doesn't pick up my sense of humour or she's going to have a lot of awkward moments in her life.
And today, it happened not once but twice in the space of 45 minutes.
I took Emma to the toddler gym at the new local community centre - she's been more or less living there this week since we discovered it. We paid our money and got a receipt. I gave Emma the receipt to hold, and she waved it at the staff member on the way in, who took it. I said, in that singsong voice that parents do so well, "Say thank you". The staff member, at the same time said, "Thank you". I thought it was funny, so I said cheerfully, "Actually I meant her, not you!" The staff member went bright red and stuttered, "I was just thanking her for giving me the receipt, because it's nice to say thank you and I'm trying...", and she trailed off. And she looked at me like I had ruined her day, and I felt ridiculously embarrassed and so did she, and I remembered that I'm a huge idiot who should just keep her mouth shut.
And then not long later, Emma was walking around the gym with a push toy, proudly showing off her balance. A kind Dad nearby smiled at her cuteness and then picked up a ball - which was red - to put in her push toy. Emma immediately grabbed it and started chewing on it with delight, totally animated, grinning and jumping up and down. So I said thank you to the Dad, and added, before I had a chance to censor myself, "When you need to give a baby some energy, give her a red ball" (a play on the caffeine energy drink "red bull"). He gave me a look like I was from another planet and sidled off. He clearly regretted having been kind. I shoud have just said, in a singsong voice, "Say thank you."
So there we have it. It's obviously too late for me, but let's hope that her royal cuteness doesn't pick up my sense of humour or she's going to have a lot of awkward moments in her life.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Nice moments (Anna)
Emma took her first steps today holding onto our hands. She's been building up to it for a long time, crusing on the furniture and on push toys, but, up to now, her knees collapsed when it was just us. She was so proud of herself (and we were pretty proud of her too).
I tidied up the office today, which happened to have about 100 CDs strewn across the floor (I can't imagine how they got there). I had just finished and turned my attention to something else when Little Miss Mischief makes her way over to the CD rack and happlessly pulls them back off, looking at me all the time to see I am watching. She was very proud of herself (and, alright, we were too, in that begrudging kind of "You're adorable, but you're wreaking havoc" kind of way that seems to be a staple of parenthood).
She spent several hours today exploring the contents of her toy box. Every new discovery made her say "Oooh" and hold it out to show us what she had found, as if she had never seen the toy before. Kind of makes up for the fact that our living room is now covered in things that are furry, things that squeak, and things that rattle (and she is yet to learn how to put things back in as well as take them out...maybe that will next month's milestone?).
Blowing raspberries together - the kind where you wobble your fingers gainst your lip to produce that satisfactory blubalubalub noise. She can do it herself, but likes to just blow and pull our fingers up to do the wobbling for her. It's a lovely glimpse into the older kid who has a sense of humour and wants to play with us.
Having a nap on our bed with her. Waking up to hear her babbling to herself...in another room. Apparently, somehow (how? how?) she has mastered getting herself off our bed without crying (and without even waking us) and wandering off into her nursery to look at her books. Luckily she was apparently not interested in the unprotected stairwell she had to crawl past to get there. It spells a new era of independence for her...and vigilance for us.
Summary: A beautiful child. A satisfied parent. I'll be sad to go back to work next week.
I tidied up the office today, which happened to have about 100 CDs strewn across the floor (I can't imagine how they got there). I had just finished and turned my attention to something else when Little Miss Mischief makes her way over to the CD rack and happlessly pulls them back off, looking at me all the time to see I am watching. She was very proud of herself (and, alright, we were too, in that begrudging kind of "You're adorable, but you're wreaking havoc" kind of way that seems to be a staple of parenthood).
She spent several hours today exploring the contents of her toy box. Every new discovery made her say "Oooh" and hold it out to show us what she had found, as if she had never seen the toy before. Kind of makes up for the fact that our living room is now covered in things that are furry, things that squeak, and things that rattle (and she is yet to learn how to put things back in as well as take them out...maybe that will next month's milestone?).
Blowing raspberries together - the kind where you wobble your fingers gainst your lip to produce that satisfactory blubalubalub noise. She can do it herself, but likes to just blow and pull our fingers up to do the wobbling for her. It's a lovely glimpse into the older kid who has a sense of humour and wants to play with us.
Having a nap on our bed with her. Waking up to hear her babbling to herself...in another room. Apparently, somehow (how? how?) she has mastered getting herself off our bed without crying (and without even waking us) and wandering off into her nursery to look at her books. Luckily she was apparently not interested in the unprotected stairwell she had to crawl past to get there. It spells a new era of independence for her...and vigilance for us.
Summary: A beautiful child. A satisfied parent. I'll be sad to go back to work next week.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Emma amuses herself (Anna)
I was just watching the video that Caroline posted, of Emma on the rocking chair stool. Emma was on the floor of the office playing. She heard herself on the video laughing and looked up as if to say "What's that?" I told her it was her, and she started chortling to herself. Apparently, we're not the only ones who find her highly amusing!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Emma's first Christmas (Caroline and Anna)
We had a wonderful Christmas.
A while ago, Caroline found a wooden rocking horse in a second-hand shop. We decided to strip it down and re-paint for Christmas for Emma. And now, we are happy to introduce the newest member of the family: Neptune, the sea horse.
(If you're wondering whether it was a lot of work, yes it was, and by the end, we were completely sick of it, but we're also kind of proud of it).
Emma is not quite old enough to sit on it and rock by herself...
But she loves holding onto it while it rocks.
The tree on Christmas Eve, with all the presents under it.
The grand opening.
The living room on Christmas afternoon, after the opening of the pressies. Emma loved the wrapping paper.
Emma trying on her new hat and sandals (in a baby's world, sandals are things to eat) from Granny Heath and Grandad - an inititation into Aussie culture.
Emma's high chair set for Christmas.
And...
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