Tag kids

Transfer Talk

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Almost a year since I last posted and to be honest not a lot has changed in the last year or so, the same for many of us though I guess. As far as the two bundles of joy in my life the changes are slightly more obvious than myself who is just slowly meandering through time.

My four year old is now a five year old and my one year old is now a two year old. I’ve always been quick with maths..

My 5 year old Fred is now almost as tall as his mum (give or take a couple of feet) and has found his early passion in life, said passion being football. Dusk till dawn you’ll find him playing, watching, drawing, breathing football. Now I’ve always been a football fan so this brings me immense pride and happiness but what I wasn’t ready for yet was the fact that his knowledge would far surpass mine before I even had time to acknowledge I needed to knuckle down and research.

To make matters worse his unwaivering desire to consume all things football has lit the touchpaper of what was a previously unknown football mum. Last night I caught the pair of them during intense discussions over the weeks transfer news.

‘Daddy did you know Martial has gone to Sevilla’.

‘No because I haven’t been invited into the inner sanctum of your transfer talk club!’

This being said I think it brings us all some common ground, are lives are now consumed by this magical sport and I for one am all for it.

Not to forget the little one who scutters around our feet as we attempt to recreate Christiano Ronaldo’s celebration, Nelly is now two and is developing her vocabulary which I can only presume she has learnt from a dictatorial book her mum has left lying around..

She’s a beautiful but bossy soul, although with everyone being consumed in the daily goings on of Jürgen Klopp and co I suppose somebody has to keep us on the straight and narrow..

Spag Bol with Donald Trump

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Watching our ten month old eating I recently came to the realisation that babies have got the simple act of eating down to a glorious fine art.

I can’t help but feel we could learn a thing or two from them. Mindfulness and being aware of our every sense is all the rage right now and food is all about our senses isn’t it, the temperatures and textures of every mouthful..

I imagine if Nelly could talk she would be telling me ‘Why restrict yourself in experiencing the wonders of food with just your mouth, why not follow my example and smear the mash around your face, maybe even let the eyes get in on the action.

Then take the broccoli and throw it around a bit before pummeling it into your face and eventually landing upon the necessary entry for food to actually be consumed’.

I’m sure being sat in a restaurant looking like Donald Trump after my spaghetti bolognese would be frowned upon, but that is exactly what the magic of baby wipes are for after all.

So maybe as we grow up and become aware of how food should be eaten we forget that sometimes shoving our face directly into the bowl of shredded wheat could make the experience that little more fun.

And on that note I think it’s time for dinner..

The Christmas Turkey

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Somehow without any real due diligence I have self imposed two more children under my ever wavering parenting ship.

It seemed like a fantastic idea to get a pet, not ready for a four legged friend yet we decided to get some two legged feathered ones instead.

First job was obviously to name our egg laying machines, easy – Sam and Elvis, took some getting used to but they have quickly assumes their roles as the dominant and subordinate characters.

After being robbed by the pet shop for some chicken pellets and straw it was job done. Time to sit back and watch Sam repeatedly attack Elvis until she looked like the Christmas turkey.

Fresh eggs then, isn’t it the dream.. Well it is until you realise that to get said egg, which for some reason is laid in the hardest to reach spot every single day, you have to hover your arm through a box full of straw covered chicken poo. This to be expected though I suppose, the real surpise that has arised is bedtime, after the baby and toddler are down I have to patiently wait until the chickens decide they’ve had enough clucking about for one day and the allure of that straw can wait no longer.

So the brood has grown yet again, and somehow I can’t help but feel I have literally moved even further down the pecking order..

Toddler sports

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Being a sports fan and having a toddler can be interesting at times.

I have extremely happy memories of paternity leave, not only because the greatest thing that had ever happened to me lay asleep on the sofa next to me, but it happened to coincide with the Euro 2016 finals (I couldn’t have planned it better). I have vivid memories of watching the Belgium v Italy game in the delivery room with mummy as she shouted obscenities in-between passes. Back home a few days later and now we could enjoy sitting down staring at our beautiful bundle of joy whilst the football set the soundtrack to his first few days in this big world. I can’t tell you the amount of baby videos I have with Lee Dixon waffling in the background.

Fast forward to the 2018 World cup semi finals and England vs Croatia. A tense affair to say the least and with mummy at work it was a lads night. 1-1 heading into the 72nd minute and all of a sudden Croatia thud the post, without thinking I scream ‘fuck’ at the top of my lungs. This mistake however led to Fred repeating it for the next 20 minutes as if it was the funniest thing his dad had ever said. Some explaining to do when mummy got home..

Freds first experience of golf saw the heroic efforts of Tiger Woods winning the USPGA, he didn’t seem to take too well to it at first, but as Tiger got closer to that green jacket and my blood pressure rose it culminated in half an hour of us synchronously screaming ‘come on Tiger’ at the tv. This along with Freddie urging every player to hit the ball in the water, clearly he’d enjoy watching his dad play..

Being avid F1 fans it was only normal for mummy to ask me with all my wisdom to guess the order of the grid for Sundays showdown at Silverstone. This however quickly descended into a game of pronounce the funny names and giggle at the results. A highly amusing game providing a solid ten minutes of humour until we made the grave error of trying to predict the grid position of Alfa Romeo driver Antonio Giovinazzi. Lets just say I won’t be asking him to say that again for a while..

Who knows maybe one day we’ll see England win the world cup and even mummy will be shouting fuck.. until then we have many more sports to conquer and I for one can’t wait.

What if..

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What if, a thought that plagues many people on a daily basis,

What if the world really is flat?
What if there is life on Mars?
What if I won the lottery?

At the minute my what ifs are a little bit more mundane..

What if Mayor Humdinger wasn’t the mayor of foggy bottom? Would Ryder and the pups have a sense of unfulfilled purpose chasing their tails everyday in the hope that another meteor crashes into adventure bay.

What if Norman didn’t live in Pontypandy? There would most certainly be job cuts in the fire department and the hero next door wouldn’t seem as much of a stand out star would he.

What if Paddington had smuggled himself into Waterloo station instead? Waterloo bear just doesn’t seem to sit right does it.

What if Mr tumble moved in next door? I mean I like where we live but I’m sure there’s plenty of good schools in other counties.. or countries.

And finally what if Uncle John and Wendy didn’t have a YouTube channel? Oh what a pleasant thought..

Living with Bradley Walsh

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Now I’m a big fan of Bradley Walsh don’t get me wrong, and I’m partial to a bit of the chase myself.

However living with a four year old Bradley walsh can at times become unbearable.

This all started a couple of years ago, our two year old for some unknown reason (strong suspicions it was grandad) became obsessed with the chase. Everyday, every minute you would hear dunsadun dunsadun dunsa dunsa dun dun hello welcome to the chase.. chance win a thousand pounds..

Sometimes I can still hear it when I close my eyes at night.

Anyway this lasted for a good few months and slowly petered out, after the wrap party was finished we thought that phase of our lives was now over.

That was until recently, now I don’t know why this has happened or what we have done to deserve this, I can only imagine he has been so bored out of his mind at home that he has taken it upon himself to become the family entertainer, but nonetheless we have seen the return of Bradley.

This time however we have Bradley 2.0, a much more sophisticated and eloquent version who now pronounces most words correctly and understands the format of his own show. And to our joyous surprise not only do we have Bradley but also Ben Shephard living under our roof. Yes that’s right quiz fans tipping point is now also a firm favourite (tenable did have a look in but fortunately for us didn’t make the grade).

What makes it all worse is that I am no longer even allowed to be a contestant, the iPad has taken over these duties as he meticulously selects the right moment to pause the video on the four contestants up for slaughter on todays show. He’s even made his own stand for authenticity to ensure the visage is not ruined for us.

So that’s it, Dunsa dun is well and truly back and doesnt look like it’s going anywhere in a hurry.

I guess all that’s left to say really is if somehow my 16th follower ends up being you Bradley Walsh, watch your back because I know a very charming and handsome adversary who is gunning for the ITV teatime slot..

To the beach baby

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We’ve all seen the crazy scenes recently of beaches filled with joyous folk just set free from their Covid-19 bunkers.

And anyone who has visited a beach will tell you that those pesky seagulls can cause some serious havoc.

I therefore offer a simple solution to the problem from my at the time two year old son. Such clever wisdom beyond his years has stuck with me two years later.

It’s simple really, so this seagull is trying to steal your last chip with curry sauce. Simply stare directly at the seagull and proclaim the following..

‘We’re not fish we’re people’

Problem solved, you’re welcome..

3 became 4..

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It’s been a while since I wrote anything and to be honest with the world as it is at the minute I haven’t felt like using my phone for anything other than mindlessly scrolling through the internet whilst I sit on the toilet and attempt to take a five minute break from the chaos.

That chaos quickly follows me in to the serene surroundings of the tiled walls as always. Our three year old bursts in looking for something to entertain himself with whilst Boris keeps us under lock and key.

A lot has changed since the last time I wrote and the three of us became four in late December. Our beautiful daughter arrived just in time to celebrate another exciting and food coma inducing Christmas. Our peaceful bundle of joy quickly learnt the hierarchy in the house and has preceded to spend the last 6 months lying, rolling and sitting in every position possible to enable her to follow her brothers every dizzying move.

I think all parents have found a new appreciation for nurseries and schools during this time and we are no different. Fortunately the endless online ordering of ridiculous items (mainly by myself) to keep us entertained also gave us an unlimited supply of cardboard and packaging to erect Pontypandy highstreet, albeit with a few arguments and heated discussions with my son over the structural integrity and characteristics of the stone built buildings, soon to be the scene of Norman Price’s next escapade.

Parks were closed, easy I thought I’ll just buy a swing and slide. Three weeks later and having enlisted mummy to check argos stock everyday at the five o’clock bottle feed we rose with elation when we discovered both golden eggs were in stock. Having navigated the new world shopping experience I felt slightly guilty emerging from the shop with a six foot slide precariously balancing in my trolley whilst people joined the back of the three mile queue snaking around the Sainsbury’s car park.

Safe to say the swing and slide have been used a mere handful of times. I guess being stuck in the garden on even the nicest of days can’t replace the excitement of pulling up to the all encompassing fantasy world of the local park.

The journey continues during this strange and scary world, I only hope that children everywhere find the love and attention they need, even if it falls in the form of your little sister slobbering all over your nose whilst you try to eat your sixth kinder egg bribe of the day..

Peppa.

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A recent trip to Peppa pig world saw myself, mummy, nanny and grandad exploring the world of Peppa and co.

If you’ve ever been sat at 6 o’clock on a Saturday morning watching Peppa as your three year old throws cornflakes at his face in the hope some will land in his mouth, only to wish you could emerse yourself in the world of Peppa then this is undoubtedly the place. Wether it’s the dangerous thrill of grandpa pigs boat or the dizzy heights of windy castle even I was still wanting more by the end of the day.

As we arrived the initial disappointment of having to park in a large flat car park and not on a 45 degree hill was soon forgotten as we saw the enormity of the toy shop walking through the doors. It’s how I imagined a toy shop would look if I was to go back to my childhood, the sort of place I would love to do a supermarket sweep around..

A short pleasant walk through some forested area saw us arrive at Peppa World.. The excitement tangeable with every child in sight dragging their parents already tired and weary bodies closer to this unexplored land. As we walked through the gates to wonderland the first thing that popped into my head was how well kept and clean the place was, this considering every day an army of unruly small people descend on the place with no care for the inch perfect grass or perfectly manicured topiary bushes, I can only imagine their brains whirling at 100 mph in a frantic decision of which ride to try and stand up on next.

The benefit of having nanny and grandad with us, despite the fact that they are Fred’s favourite people in the world is that it meant my knees could occasionally have a rest from being rammed against the dashboard of one vehicle or another. So grandad drove the cars and nanny rode the dinosaurs, and then they took Fred for a go with them as well. To see the joy on his face is what places like this are made for.

Now Fred has never been one for sitting still whilst you try and get a nice picture but for some reason after walking past the photo house he had set his mind on having a studio day. Eventually whilst the others explored we snuck off to get his headshots taken, after spending five minutes deciding the exact setting for this shoot he sat his little bum down on some steps Infront of the green screen. And that was that, he just sat there with a big grin on his face and within a couple of minutes we had a lovely photo of Fred driving grandpa pigs train grinning like a Cheshire cat.

If you fancy a break from the rides even the playground doesn’t disappoint. A hilly mix of slides and tunnels with everything a child could wish for. Fred however chose to ignore all of this expensively purpose built childrens activity equipment and opted for the rather large astro turf hill by a slide. A decision we would later learn resulted in an astro turf burn on his belly from his unusual approach to descending the mountain. A scar to remember at least.

After emptying a pocket full of coins into the rapids and saying a quick hello to Peppa and George it was time to go, all in all a fantastic day and thanks to my beautiful girlfriend I now have a new favourite pair of daddy pig socks..