Tonight's quiet play before bed involved some drawing on the new easel Squawk received for her birthday. After the usual gamut of flowers and monsters (and the truly baffling instruction to "draw blue! using green!"), Squawk asked me to draw a picture of her: Then she wanted a picture of Dad: So then she drew […]
Today, spurred by a last-minute reminder and possessed of an odd amount of energy for a Saturday morning, I packed Squawk on to the train and we trotted into town to catch Shaun Tan's "The Singing Bones" at the No-Vacancy gallery. I very nearly didn't go: Squawk is tired and cranky on Saturdays, which meant […]
Squawk sings — constantly, about whatever she last overheard, or whatever stray thought passes through her head, or who knows where she gets her inspiration. I don't. This morning… this morning I overheard her crooning a dirge to Ani about hairballs.
Yesterday Squawk was questioning me about ambulances. She knows they're for treating sick people, and whenever she sees one she'll put on her face of earnest sympathy and proclaim "Someone's feeling sick!" — but yesterday she wanted to know why this imaginary person was feeling sick. (We've been in the "…whyyyyyy?" phase of toddlerhood for […]
Squawk asked for "two hair ponies! On a same side!" … and now she looks like someone Dr Seuss drew.
To celebrate a successful settlement, have an audio grab of Squawk pronouncing rhinoceros:
Squawk has figured out her dad's first name, and when she wants his attention I'll hear this wistful little "Stuieeeee….!" Often she'll get stuck in a loop, repeating his name over and over, but this time she immediately got distracted by Nanna. Who is currently over a thousand kilometres away, so I've no idea why […]
In order to get Squawk to eat baked macaroni1, I have to eat it with her. At this point in the proceedings, in fact, I have to eat it for her. I find I am entirely okay with this. And because she's extremely cautious around food, I know I'm going to need to eat it […]
I drive past this sign at least once a week, and it never fails to amuse me. Must be the cynic in me.
I've taken to singing. All the effing time. I have songs about burps (they're nasty); nappy changes (they're awesome); boredom grizzles; the fear of sleeping; the necessity of sleeping; the insidious and all-too-easily-missed-or-mistaken nature of weariness; socks that won't stay on; the loveliness of whichever drink bottle, chandelier or featureless wall she currently finds fascinating […]