Hannah and Lauren have each got a pair of plastic high-heeled shoes for dressing up. Despite our best efforts, Hannah insists on calling them her “hee highls”, conjuring up the image of some kind of regimental Nazi footwear. The effect is particularly vivid when combined with Hannah’s unique style of staccato shouting, such as, earlier this evening: “LAUREN! DON’T! GO! UPSTAIRS! WITH! YOUR! HEE-HIGHLS! ON!”
Archive for June, 2005
Lauren came over to me this morning with her chest pushed forwards and some kind of lump in the top pocket of her school dress.
“Look, Daddy,” she said, “I’ve got a booby!” And then, after just the briefest of pauses, added: “It’s not really a booby, it’s a tissue!”
She had me worried for a moment there.
We were on holiday in Spain recently. We stayed in a static caravan that had a round badge on one side with the holiday company’s logo on it. Anyone who’s ever met a four-year-old will know that every sentence they utter begins with “Why…”, and the sad fact is that the vast majority cannot easily be followed with a sentence beginning “Because…”. (Two examples that spring to mind are “Why is Spain blue?” and “Why has Mummy gone for a wee-wee?”)
Anyway, back to the caravan. Hannah sat outside one day, looking thoughtfully at the holiday company logo, and then asked: “Why has that circle on our caravan got three ‘wuhs’ on it?” – “wuhs”, of course, in the four-year-old phonetic alphabet, being Ws.
Oh happy day. Oh happy father.
Perhaps as recently as six months ago I would have glossed over this question like so many others, judging that the girls were not yet old enough to fathom the complex logistics of a global information network reaching into all of our homes. But now, blinded perhaps by some kind of mad holiday euphoria, I decided to have a stab at it. We started with a tour of the caravan, discovering the mysterious mark of “three wuhs” on items as diverse as Mummy’s book, Daddy’s hat, and the mayonnaise.
“Now then,” I said, sitting them both down. I imagined they must have felt a bit like the bloke in The Matrix when he starts to realise the whole world is not as he had thought. “Do you know what the three wuhs mean?”
Two heads slowly shook, slack-jawed with bewilderment. I savoured the moment then spoke again.
“Well… er… you know when we get CBeebies on the computer?”
Nod. Nod.
“Well… it’s bit like that really. You can get the caravan on the computer. Or Mummy’s book.”
Blankness.
“Well, pictures of them really…”
Outside, a tumbleweed drifted past. It was beginning to dawn on me just what I’d embarked on.
“Can we do CBeebies on the ‘puter now?” asked Lauren.
“No, sweetheart. We haven’t got a computer here, have we?”
Another tense pause.
“But when we get home then?”
“Yes, when we get home, of course we can.”
“And can we see the caravan? And Mummy’s book?”
“Er… well, yes… listen, who wants an ice-cream?”
“ME!!!”
Phew.
The rest of the holiday was spent spotting “three wuhs” on just about everything. I tell you, you just don’t notice how prevalent the bloody things are until you’ve got two small girls spotting each and every one for you, as if they’re rare jewels. And as a result of my excellent tuition, Hannah and Lauren now know two new things: (1) three wuhs are everywhere, and (2) that means everything is a bit like CBeebies, but only when it’s on the computer, not on the telly.
I should hire myself out for private tuition, I really should.
Hannah and Lauren have discovered the joys of playing the classic children’s game Guess Who. The trouble is, they’ve discovered different joys to the rest of us, which turns a game with them into a supreme test of will which would challenge the likes of Florence Nightingale or Nelson Mandela.
For the record, here’s how a normal game of Guess Who goes:
Player 1: Does your person have a beard?
Player 2: Yes.
Player 1 knocks down all people without beards.
Player 2: Does your person have red hair?
Player 1: No.
Player 2 knocks down all people with red hair.
And so on. But who wants to play like that… when you could play like this?
Hannah: Does your person haaaaaaave… [long pause]… a beard or a moustache?
Lauren: A moustache.
Me: No, Lauren, just say yes or no!
Lauren: OK, no.
Nicola: You mean yes?
Lauren: Yes. A yellow moustache.
I hang my head in despair.
Nicola: Right, come on Hannah.
Hannah: Sooo… moustaches… down?
Nicola: No, think – their person has got a moustache. So…
Hannah: So people… without moustaches… stay up?
Nicola: No, they go down.
Hannah: Oh yeah!
Hannah and Nicola knock down the moustaches. I suspect Nicola’s knocking down the non-yellow ones too.
Me: Right, our go Lauren.
Lauren: Has your person got a bit of a funny face?
Hannah: Yes!
Give me strength…
