The Creator

Ah, half term holidays: a time when the girls can take not-getting-ready-in-the-morning in all kinds of new and exciting directions.

The following conversation took place this morning, Nicola at the bottom of the stairs, the girls in their bedroom after some 30 minutes or so of “getting ready”:

Nicola: Girls, are you ready yet?
Lauren: Er… nearly!
Nicola: Come on you two! Get dressed!
Lauren: [in cod American accent] Sure mommy, whatever the creator of my life says!

This was around half an hour ago and they’re still in their pyjamas. I’d better go and jog them on a bit or there’ll be hell to pay when the Crucible of Life finds out.

Neckophobe

Lauren revealed to us last night that Hannah is a “neckophobe” – that is, someone who has an irrational fear of having their neck pinched.

Sounds like she’s inherited that from me.

Farewell, 2009

Farewell then, 2009. Next year the girls hit double figures and turn 10, the age at which children generally (so we’re told) stop putting marshmallows up their noses.

I’m not sure if I’m feeling relieved or nostalgic right now.

How do you solve a problem like this?

8:05am. As tradition requires, the girls have been reminded/politely asked/told/commanded about a thousand times to get dressed. Hannah is now dancing around the room in the nude, singing “How Do You Solve A Problem Like Naked?” in a trill operatic style.

My friends, I fear all hope is lost.

33, 34, 35, 36

Hannah to Nicola: “Mummy, do the numbers 33, 34, 35 and 36 occur to you?”

Nicola: “Occur to me? What do you mean?”

Hannah: Y’know, do they ring a bell?”

Hannah is standing half in her wardrobe. She is “getting ready for bed“.

Nicola: “No, not particularly.”

Hannah (producing theatre ticket stubs with a flourish from within the wardrobe): “High School Musical seat numbers!”

Nicola (slapping forehead): “Of course…”

3D Specs

They’re right: things look somehow better in 3D.

24 Angry Chocolates

There’s been a fascinating and seasonal legal case developing at home this month which I thought you might like to hear about. The case was brought by Lauren (“the Plaintiff”) and facing her across the courtroom is the formidable legal mind of Hannah (“the Defence”). Sitting in session is Judge Dad. The case concerns two chocolate advent calendars purchased by the Plaintiff and the Defence in November 2008.

The substance of the Plaintiff’s case is that, subsequent to the purchase of the two calendars, it was discovered that the Plaintiff’s calendar (Milky Bar-themed) has only 24 doors, whilst the Defence’s calendar (High School Musical) has 25. The Plaintiff is therefore requesting an extra chocolate on 25 December to address this shortcoming.

The Defence’s argument (presented in the most robust of terms) is that this is “well not fair”, since both calendars were selected through free choice and in the absence of duress. The Defence finds it plainly unacceptable that the Plaintiff should subsequently request special treatment in respect of circumstances which, it might reasonably be argued, she brought entirely on herself.

The Judge, after careful deliberation and consultation with his judicial colleague Judge Mum, ruled in favour of the Plaintiff and ordered the court to obtain a packet of Cadbury’s Chocolate Buttons and distribute one such to the Plaintiff on 25 December.

The Defence leapt to its feet to object but was swiftly overruled by Judge Dad who was running late for work.

However, subsequent investigations carried out by the Defence as part of the appeals process have revealed an intriguing twist which was not disclosed to the court at the time of the original case. Looking at the back of each calendar it was discovered that the Plaintiff’s (24-door) calendar has a net weight of 85g, whilst the Defence’s (25-door) calendar has a net weight of only 80g. The Defence has therefore mounted a dramatic counterclaim, stating that not only should the original ruling in favour of the Plaintiff be overturned, but it should be reversed, with the award now directed towards the Defence.

There followed unruly scenes, during which the Judge was obliged to clear the court.

The Plaintiff is currently preparing its appeal case and is thought to be considering a “well not fair” plea: controversial, to say the least, in light of the line taken in its original prosecution.

The Judge is currently ensconced in his chambers, searching the Internet for one-way tickets to Mexico.

Dreaming

This from Lauren last night, in the car on the way home from school:

Daddy, I’ve just made this up, right: imagine there’s this girl, right, and her name’s Suzie – I don’t even know why she’s called Suzie, I’ve just made it up! – and she’s asleep, yeah, and she’s dreaming, but in that dream she’s dreaming, and in that dream she’s having a dream, yeah, and in that dream, dreaming, and in that dream, dreaming, and in that dream, dreaming, and so on, right, until she gets to, like, one-hundred-and-eleven dream, and in that dream… she’s thinking about little doggies because she really loves doggies.

That’s pretty much word for word. (She really did say “and so on”!) Note the lack of full stops because, as we all know, full stops are where you pause to take a breath.

Daddy, Hannah said I have breasts!

Back when this blog started, almost 4 years ago, I’ll admit I was entertaining some rose-tinted notion that, as time went by, the ratio of getting-ready-in-the-morning to full-on-conflict-resolution would improve. I probably thought that by the time they were, say, 8 years old, they might get washed and dressed most mornings – or even just some mornings – without requiring the intervention of Nelson Mandela and a United Nations peace-keeping force.

Ha!

That 2005 version of me was an idiot. Nowadays I’m far more realistic about the scale of the task we face. If you want a picture of the future, George Orwell might have told me, imagine a small foot stamping deliberately on its sister’s foot – forever.

Last week’s case in point came from Lauren, just as I was getting out of the shower.

“Daddy, Hannah said I have breasts!”

I went into their bedroom to find them both inspecting each other’s naked chests. (This was, I should point out, after some 30 minutes of “getting dressed”.) I told them to stop being silly and get ready but instead they chose to have a discussion on the differences between:

  1. breasts
  2. boobies
  3. nipples
  4. willies

I have to admit it was all rather fascinating, even if I got a bit lost in the detail: I’m pretty clear on the difference between boobies and willies, less clear on boobies v. breasts. In any case, the consensus after a few minutes of robust debate seemed to be that they both have (or sort-of have) items 1-3, but definitely not item 4.

“Don’t we, Daddy?” said Hannah. “Don’t we?”

The path of least resistance beckoned. “Yes, girls. Now get dressed.”

“Aha!” cried Hannah, turning to Lauren with a triumphant finger in the air. “You breast my case!”

Fat Cherry or Baby’s Bottom?

The girls have recently devised an ingenious classification system for chins. Frankly I’m wondering how we as a species have come so far without it.

Pinch your chin between your thumb and forefinger. If it forms a cleft, you’re a Baby’s Bottom. If it just sort of bulges out, you’re a Fat Cherry. For some reason the Baby’s Bottom seems the desirable chin-type to have, to the point where the Hannah and Lauren will carefully create a chin-cleft with another finger before submitting for official adjudication. Although interestingly, anyone else caught trying the same thing is clearly the worst kind of chin criminal and is instantly branded a Fat Cherry.

Two Fat Cherries, two Baby's Bottoms

Here are the results from our family. So, what kind of chin is yours?

A tale of two pennies

From Lauren at tea-time tonight:

Imagine if you had two rabbits, yeah, and they were both called Penny, and you were dropping one of them off at the train station, right, and then her owner said, “Let’s go and pick up Penny,” but you thought she meant Penny the pasta!!

It turns out she was referring to penne. Hannah laughed so hard she almost choked.

When is a prawn not a prawn?

The girls continue to hone their joke-telling skills, using me as their unfortunate foil. This morning’s selection came once again from Lauren.

Joke 1
Q. How do you make anti-freeze?
A. Lock her in the fridge.

[Aside: One of my earliest memories is wondering why this joke got such a big laugh when I didn't even understand it. The reason, it turned out, was because I was asking "How do you make granny freeze?". I was just wondering where Lauren got such a well-polished joke from when out tumbled another one.]

Joke 2
Q. Why did the prawn go out with the fig?
A. Because he couldn’t get a date.

I loved that one, especially the nicely random prawn touch.

It was at this point that Hannah came running in, clutching the Puffin’s Brilliantly Big Bumper Joke Book, and shouted, “No, Lauren, it’s prune!”

The Happy Adventures of Hannah and Lauren

Sorry the blog’s been so dead recently! I thought I’d try and liven it up a bit with this video I put together a few years ago which I’ve just uploaded to video-sharing site Vimeo. I think you’ll like it… ;-)


The Happy Adventures of Hannah and Lauren from Mark Whitaker on Vimeo

A loaded question

Hannah came wandering into the room the other day. Maybe I’m only saying this with benefit of hindsight, but I’m sure I was aware of Lauren hovering just outside the door.

“Daddy,” said Hannah, “what would you rather have had: girls or boys?”

Well there’s only one way you can answer a question like that, and Hannah knew it.

“Ooh, boys,” I said, dreamily. “It’d be great! Just think, we could watch Star Wars every day, we could…”

“You’re fired!” said Hannah, spun round and strutted out of the room, where she and Lauren proceeded to fall about chuckling.

Pink, glorious pink

There’s a reason this blog is pink. I wonder if you can work out what it is whilst looking at this photo of Hannah and Lauren decorating their bedroom today…