Gymnastic Fantastic

So my five year old, my eldest child has speech difficulties and some learning delays and I love him more than anything in the world (or at least joint equal with his brother!) I spend a lot of time worrying about his self esteem and thinking of ways to counter balance how behind he is in ‘school’ ways. Mostly he doesn’t notice or talk about it but sometimes he gets all sad and a little moody and refuses to try to do things because he knows it doesn’t come easy to him and he sees his friends do it quickly and with little trouble.

I enrolled him in gymnastics club, when I asked him about football club and multi-skills club he politely declined with a ‘No thank you Mummy’ so I did it in secret and just told him when he was to go. He’s great at running, jumping, rolling and climbing so I figured it would be easy for him to get at least BAGA 1 sewn onto his jogging top.

The first week he wet himself before the end of the session – the teacher was, he said, too busy for him to ask her if he could go to the toilet and he couldn’t find the courage to find the way there himself.

We weren’t down-hearted, he definitely enjoyed it and spent days afterwards doing forward rolls on the rug, sometimes aided with a line of cushions, he also took to climbing on walls with his arms out like a tightrope walker.

Tonight to my delight he was ‘Gymnast of the Week’ – that’s a title I made up really. What really happened was the big girl in the club gave out a sticker and he proudly got it.

He cheered when he got it, arms up in the air with a quick, ‘Yes!’ He skipped all the way home telling me about balancing and stretching and rolling and jumping still in his P.E. kit with the warm Autumn sun on his back.

It even made up for the difficulty I had in understanding what his model was – (this was despite actually seeing the model)

‘It’s a bally – eena’ he said.

‘Oh, I see a ballerina’ I said.

‘Well yes’ he said, ‘But not the type of bally-eena that dances’

‘The type of bally-eena that is in Africa’

‘Emm’ I puzzled.

He told me how one of the other little boys at school – a boy he is sworn enemy of, I might add – said his model was rubbish. I know that’s what kids do, but it still jags my poor Mummy heart!

He then told me about three other friends who said he model was, ‘wicked’, ‘good’ and ‘great’ and I felt warm again!

Then it dawned on me – ‘Is it a hyena?’

‘Yes, Mummy a bally-eena!’ 

‘It’s brilliant!’ I say.

Baptism

My little one finally got baptised this week. He’s very nearly two and it was the first time he’s set foot in a church – I think he liked it! He stood at the front at the right time and noticing that the place was full of all the people he loved it the world began waving like the little prince he is! Yes, I think he liked it! What he didn’t like was putting on a little suit and waistcoat – but he needn’t have fought and struggled so much he managed to make it look scruffy within seconds of the button battle to get it on....... and as for slicking down his hair, well....

The elder boy at least managed to stay fairly smart, breakfast and teeth all done in pyjama’s and right at the last minute only, jumped into his best monkey print shirt and new suede boots.

The day before I’d taken the toddler shopping  and pramed my way round the freezer shop  the Irish Grandma behind the counter had been unable to voice the £6.66 subtotal rather she looked at me wide eyed and shocked– I hoped it wasn’t an omen!

I decided to make a joke, ‘Ooh, It’s his christening tomorrow! That’s not a good sign is it?!’

She laughed, but weakly and kept one eye on the pram just in case!

I understand why christenings take place on babies – the non-mobile nature is definitely a plus – my toddler, big eyed, cheeky face climbing slowly and deliberately up the steps to the altar, seemingly aware of both mine and his father’s reluctance to look bad in front of a priest! Or begin a Benny Hill style race around the church especially in my heels!

The service was relaxed, (kids at the front watching the water pouring and oil rubbing with awe) but moving, all my family and friends there praying for me and mine I did feel calm and blessed and full of love for my two boys.

Then the party, a little panic as the pie man was late but in he came, Desperate Dan cow pies under each arm, bucket of peas balanced on the table a proper grub’s up!

Gangs of kids around the pool table, sliding on the dance floor and eating crisps, whilst making a fuss of the little one, presents and cards stacking up on the table. The newest babies and the oldest Grandparents pulling faces at each other.  My partner chatting to the friends he went to school with nearly forty years ago and me, flitting between groups of family and friends and making cups of tea for the Great Aunts. My brother slipping out to go to the match. My Dad happily snapping on my behalf getting to grips with digital. The in-laws breathing easy knowing the little one is now finally in the faith, protected by God and not destined to spend his eternal life in limbo should the worse happen....

Where's me ...........?

Over dinner my partner uttered the cryptic words,

‘Have you seen J-N......’

I looked blankly at him but before I could question him further he nodded sagely and clarified, in a sort of whisper a la Les Dawson.

‘From the s-h-o-e-s’

(I recently said ‘He’s a bit of a d-i-c-k-‘ to my sister in law about someone and my niece and nephew both mouthed, ’dick’ to each other with giggly cheeky faces then ‘AWWW! Aunty Donna!’ so not sure how long we can communicate like this before being sussed!)

Doh! I thought the five year old had a friend over yesterday after school and they both removed the Jack Nano and spaceship toys from the heel of their shoes – curse you Clarks!

(It’s the latest thing in a long line of marketing ploys to sugar up the return to school for infants – at least I don’t have any girls I’m sure you have to re-mortgage these days for Lellie Kellies! And that’s if you can keep down the vomit from watching their telly advert.)

Seeing his friend with exactly the same pair of shoes and remembering a friends story last year which involved a mammoth shoe swap in year 4 resulting in many children with odd shoes – including one poor boy left with two right feet, I decided to iron on (sew on please? How much time do you have on your hands?!) name tags in his shoes.

Unfortunately I realised I had only one tag left..... left or right then which one is he most likely to loose?!

In the end I think I made the sensible choice.... I snipped it in half, first name in the left and surname in the right!

You see the thing is, despite constant reminders and nagging and hair pulling, and the broken record of ‘if you put it where it belongs you will always find it!’ the five year old (oh yes and the 44 year old!) expect me to know where they have dropped things, (and in a kind of super mum way I usually do!) But even I haven’t been able to spot two tiny toys that fit in size twelve and a half ‘g’s!

Recently at a nursery open day, the nearly two year olds key worker said that his class were not very good at jigsaw puzzles.

‘Really?’ I said before nervously owning up to almost never letting them out of the box at home without extremely strict supervision because it drives me mad when they loose the pieces!!!

Bad Mummy again!

Still, now kids in bed, rug hovered, cushions back on the sofa (why my kids think my soft furnishings are gymnastic equipment I do not know!’), washing up done and candles lit I slowly rest my weary bottom in the chair when.....

‘Ouch!’

Jack bloomin’ Nano!

Found him!