Kwazii finger-puppet

ToddlerGirl's love of Octonauts is such that we record it and incorporate it into the bedtime routine, the only slight downside being that if it ever comes on TV at its scheduled time, a look of dismay crosses her face: "It's not bedtime, Mummy!" (Some days, dear heart, I wish it was. When did sleep start to be something you look forward to, rather than to be avoided at all costs? Is it just when your own kids arrive?!)

We're a bit short on Octonaut toys though, as I mentioned previously. It seems that Amazon, Tesco and Argos do have a some in stock, but they're a bit pricy, if you ask me. (And if you don't ask me, I'll still think it anyway.)

So, we make do. And if I say so myself, I'm quite pleased with how this turned out, although I didn't involve the kids in its creation. You'll have to bear with me as I try to describe how I made it, there were a lot of adjustments made as I went along. The first hummus pot measurement is as precise as it gets, and then everything thereafter was adapted in proportion to that. (Should anyone does want more accurate measurements, let me know and I can get my ruler out again!)

I had the felt lying around from a project some years ago, various coloured 20cm x 20cm squares, so that was my starting point. I'm thinking about making Captain Barnacles and Peso versions, when my needle-stabbed fingers are up to it. I'm pretty sure I wasn't a seamstress in a former life...

Take
1 square orange felt
1 square black felt
1 square blue felt
1 square cream/pale yellow felt
Some stuffing (about enough to fill an eggcup)
Cotton of various colours


Cut out a circle of orange felt - I used the lid of a hummus pot to draw around.
Using running stitch, stitch around the edge of the circle, leaving a thread trailing behind where you start, so you can pull this thread as well as the end of the thread where you finish up.
When you've stitched all the way around, pull both ends of the thread to pull the edges of the circle together, bunching it up. Don't pull it tight yet!
Add stuffing, and pull tighter. Knot ends together as tightly as possible (without snapping the thread! From personal experience, it's very annoying when that happens. There may be a small gap in the centre, but I think that's okay.)
Cut out a small square from the orange thread, then cut in two diagonally to make two triangles.
Place one triangle at the top of the ball, with the long edge touching the ball.
Stitch halfway along the long edge, then bend it 90 degrees before stitching into place to form the ear.
Repeat with other ear.
Cut out an eye and and eyepatch from the black felt. The eyepatch needs to be a similar shape but larger than the semi-circular eye shape.
Stitch eye into place.
Cut a long, thin strip of black felt to form the band for the eyepatch. Stitch into place.
Stitch eyepatch into place, over the band.
Cut a figure 8 shape from the cream/yellow felt (but without cutting out the internal holes)
Stitch onto the face using pink thread in the centre of the shape, to both secure the shape and form the pink nose.
Put a few white stitches into the eye.
Take a brown felt tip pen and add freckles to cheeks.
Cut a rectangle out of the orange felt, long enough to fit onto and around a finger.
Stitch rectangle into a tube, turn inside out and stitch top of tube to Kwazii head.
Cut a rectangle of blue felt. Stitch the top of the felt around the bottom of the Kwazii head, to cover the join between the tube and the head.
Cut a square of blue felt, and cut it in half.
Stitch the two short sides together, and turn inside out. Fold edge of triangle back on itself, to form hat.
Stitch hat onto head.
Treat self to glass of wine.

Voila. Be warned, this finger-puppet did necessitate an hour talking in my best Kwazii voice to the toddler yesterday. Yow!

On teething

My neck is not a teether
My ear is not one either
Do you mind if I enquire
How I've raised a half-vampire?

It is hard to keep calm
With teethmarks in your arm
But I'm sure that adoption
Isn't really an option.

And you might want to kiss her
But you just bit your sister.
Please don't do it again.
(Take deep breath, count to ten.)

Oh, how can such tiny teeth
Cause disproportionate grief?
I wish teething would end,
My poor, sore gummy friend.

Numberjacks: Number-flapjacks

My toddler has been insisting for ages that Numberjacks is called Numberflapjacks. She's had flapjack on a few occasions; obviously it's made an impression.

I would love to be able to say that I could whip up proper Numberjack-shaped flapjacks, but I don't think the properties of flapjack lend itself to sculpting. (There's a reason oat products didn't feature in my GCSE Art & Design course.)

But what is Numberjacks, I hear the uninitiated enquire? It's a bizarre series where animated number characters (with strangely stubby eyelashes) solve problems in the real world, such as foiling the evil Numbertaker from stealing all the legs from a chair, and various other objects. It's odd, but I like the vaguely educational slant it has to it. My daughter likes numbers at the moment, so she gets more out of it than, say, Alphablocks, at this stage.

But on to the flapjack! It will do the waistline no favours but gets hoovered up in no time. This makes a batch that fits our 25cm x 16cm tin.

Take:
150g butter
100g sugar
2 generous tablespoons of golden syrup
400g oats
1 large bar of chocolate (you'll probably only need half the bar for the flapjack, but we melted the whole bar and then the leftovers mysteriously vanished...)


Melt the butter, sugar and golden syrup over a gentle heat.
When melted, add the oats and stir well.
Press the mixture into a baking tin.
Bake at 180c for 25 minutes.
Now comes the tricky bit...
When the mixture is cooked, leave it to cool in the tin for a while.
Cut out number shapes from greaseproof paper to use as stencils.
Stick number shapes onto flapjack - I used a bit of golden syrup to stick them on, although I wonder whether sticking the numbers onto the mix before baking may have worked better.
Melt chocolate over a bowl of hot water.
Paint chocolate over flapjack, using the back of a teaspoon and being careful around the edges of the stencils.
Wait til chocolate has cooled so it is no longer runny but is not rock-solid, and carefully peel off stencils. (If you stick it in the fridge and let the chocolate set completely then it becomes tricky to get the stencils off. But if you peel it off before it has set enough, it will ooze.)

Ta-dah! Tasty number-flapjacks!

64 Zoo Lane: Crocodile

64 Zoo Lane is, in some ways, a poor man's Tinga Tinga Tales. But it is on during Cbeebies Bedtime Hour and if Baby Boy's struggling to get to sleep then it can stretch a tired toddler for an extra ten minutes before bath.

It is hardly cutting edge animation, and the stories are so-so, but the idea of a girl who lives next door to a zoo being told bedtime stories by the animals is quite cute. I take exception to the theme tune however, which sings that "some are slimy" while showing wriggling snakes. Annoys me every time. Everyone knows snakes aren't slimy, don't they? Or am I being a pedant?

(Flash back to our most recent zoo visit: another mother pointing at a gorilla, saying "look at the funny monkey" to her toddler. My daughter points at the animal and asks me what it is, I tell her it's a gorilla. Which it is. Other mother shoots daggers at me and mutters something like "monkey, gorilla, whatever". It's none of my business what she tells her kids it's called, does that not cut both ways? It's not like I made a point of mentioning that a gorilla's an ape, not a monkey. That, I feel, would have been pedantry.)

Anyway, 64 Zoo Lane's crocodiles are pretty basic and easy to mock up. (Mock croc, geddit?) I don't know why my daughter decided an egg-box should become a croc, but she did, and it did.

Take:

1 long thin box (I used a breadsticks box)
Half an egg-box (the bumpy half)
1 piece of card
Plain paper
2 googly eyes if you have them, a bit more paper if you don't.


Cover the long thin box in plain paper.
Cut jaws out of one end of the box.
Stick the egg-box half onto the top of the box (I used glue and masking tape to secure it).
Cut 4 feet and 1 tail out of the piece of card and attach to bottom and back of box respectively. I folded the 'fat end' of the tail over to make a tab for the purposes of sticking.
Croc at this point looked like so:


Next, paint crocodile in colours of toddlers choice. Ours was green, yellow, red and blue. And sludge where they all mingled.
When crocodile is dry, stick on two googly eyes, or make two paper eyes.
Cut pointy teeth out of paper, and stick to jaw end to give a toothy effect.

You can "feed" the crocodile bits and pieces by pushing it through the teeth, or make fish shapes from the spare card if you like.

It didn't take that long to make: as projects go, it was pretty snappy! (Ok, I'll stop now...)

Peppa Pig: Fairground game

The fairground episode of Peppa is a classic. Don't mess with Mummy Pig! She wins all the giant teddies at various fairground games, spurred on to victory by dismissive comments from the stall-holders. "You've got no chance, it's impossible!" says Miss Rabbit, but I think it is Mr Bull who has a line something like "Archery is a game of skill, too hard for women!" Watch Mummy Pig's eyes narrow... You can see why Daddy Pig wants to stay on the right side of her.

We were in town the other week and the fairground was set up on the common. My daughter was very excited to see it, so we had a wander round. I had no idea how expensive those things are these days! She had a go on the bouncy castle, a carousel, and a trampoline, leaving no change from a fiver. Lord help us when Baby Boy's old enough to want to go on things too. Peppa Pig's fairground only charges £1 a go! Our was between £1.50-£2.00. That's inflation for you...

Behold the mutant offspring then, of too much Petit Filous and cost-cutting skinflintery. Our very own DIY fairground game.

Take:
6 empty yogurt pots
1 piece A4 paper
Some old wrapping/tissue paper

Decorate A4 paper, and then cut into strips to wrap round the (cleaned) pots
Stick strips onto pots (although you could probably not bother with the decoration if so inclined)
Screw up the old wrapping or tissue paper into a ball
Stack pots and throw ball at them - well, you get the idea.

Baby Boy liked knocking down the 'towers' of pots, squashing them and trying to build them up again. My toddler liked playing the actual game, so it pleased both of them, provided they both weren't both trying to play with it at the same time. I think I need more pots!

Luckily(!), given the amount of yogurt we get through between the two of them, we're in no shortage of the darned things... I'm wondering if they're potentially good for potting seedlings if I have another go at growing stuff again next Spring. 101 uses for a yogurt pot?

Dipdap: Snow-shaker

Dipdap is an odd little cartoon. At only two minutes in length, it's quite convenient if my toddler wants to watch one more thing before we turn the TV off. There's no dialogue, it's all music and sound effects - great for export, one would imagine. It's very simply drawn, and for a character with no facial features other than saucer-eyes, Dipdap conveys quite a range of emotions. It's an amusing little animation. Baby Boy thinks so, anyway.

Dipdap lives in a world where The Line creates random situations around him. It's great fun trying to guess what the Line is drawing, and what will happen next. Rolf Harris would love it. Probably.

In one episode, Dipdap finds himself inside a snowglobe. The shaker inspired by this isn't exactly a snowglobe, but both kids seem to get a kick out of it.

Take:
1 plastic see-through bottle
Some sequins/metal table confetti
Some olive oil (a few tablespoons or so)
Some water

Pour water into the bottle.
Carefully add the sequins/confetti.
Add the olive oil.
Close lid - tightly!

Baby Boy just likes shaking it and watching the bits fall. My toddler likes the 'bubbles' that the oil and water make when they mix. The oil was a last minute experimental addition, but it definitely makes it more interesting: the confetti goes down, while the oil bubbles go up. Hours of fun! (Well, minutes, anyway...)

I'm scared of my bathroom

Oh, September. Or should I say Spidertember? For it is that month once more, when the eight-leggedy-ones scuttle out from wherever they lurk, humming Barry White tunes and looking for lurve.

I will have to lock down my bathroom as some sort of biohazard, due to the Tegenaria Gigantica (Giant House Spider to its mates) who thinks my shower vent is an ideal love-nest. It's the only sensible option.

(Have you seen that Phill Jupitus sketch on spiders? He would understand.)

Noddy: Pirate ship for the bath

I've never been a fan of Noddy, although I remember the original books from when I was little. I found the characters hard to like and the plots too preachy, and while the TV series has been updated it still doesn't float my boat (pun intended).

Most of the stories revolve around the naughty goblins trying to mess up whatever Noddy's doing and generally episodes end with them being punished. Note that the goblins are never actually invited to join in with anything the Toytown toys do, and they live far away from everyone else. Add to that, the goblins are ugly and very visually different to the rest of the toys, a palette of sludgey grey-greens rather than vibrant primary colours. I don't really like the "good = pretty, bad = ugly" message that comes through in a lot of kids stuff - Disney in particular is quite bad for that - and in general I think there are undertones which are quite unpleasant to the whole goblin plot-device. I know it's a kids programme, but some gestures in the direction of empathy would be nice. There are some episodes which are a bit more developed than the "goblins try to spoil the fun" plot, so I try and filter viewing on that basis. Noddy and the pirates being a case in point...

The pirate plot revolved around pirates hunting for treasure, mistakenly taking some that doesn't belong to them, and Noddy helping to resolve the situation. Pirates seem to be pretty ubiquitous these days on kids TV, books, etc., so it's no wonder they're fairly big in our house. Peppa Pig gets a commendation for being the only kids programme I'm aware of to feature pirates which also includes girls, at Danny Dog's pirate party. (There were actually quite a few female pirates in days gone by. It's interesting reading, although I wonder why these particular 'criminal types' have been rehabilitated as suitable children's fodder? Why them and not highwaymen, say? At this age I don't need to get into the finer points with my kids, pirates are just funny people who sail boats and look for treasure, end of.)

Of course, every good pirate needs a boat, be they imaginary-cushion boats or ones for the bath. We approximated our own bathtime pirate-boat as follows:

Take:

1 plastic bottle (we used an olive oil one)
1 piece of paper
1 piece of blu-tak
1 chopstick or similar mast (beware pointy ends!)

Using a sharp knife to get started, then switching to scissors, cut a hole in the side of the bottle, to create the hollowed out boat-shape. File any sharp edges down with a nail-file.
Decorate a piece of paper for the sail.
Make two small cuts in the sail and slip the mast through. (I used a bamboo chopstick, which gave me an enormous splinter: I'd recommend filing them down too!)
Stick blu-tak at the bottom of the bottle.
Stick mast into blu-tak.
Sail away! (Enya soundtrack optional).

We added a couple of Little People as passengers/pirates, and I was gratified to see that it remained quite stable. The sail was good for blowing on to make the boat move, although a longer stretch of water would have been better. There are only so many times you can turn the boat round in a bath. I'd also suggest not getting too attached to the sail as it will end up soggy... Spares are good!

Please don't batter your brother

Please don't batter your brother,
It really is awfully rude.
He thinks it's good fun,
To play with someone:
He doesn't know you're in a mood.

Please don't bash the baby,
It stresses me out to the edge.
You say that you love him:
So hug him don't shove him,
Or I'll really jump off the ledge.

Please don't pester the puss-cat,
She'll likely do more than demur.
You just want to play, see,
But that ukelele
Is not made for stroking cat-fur.

Please don't slap your sibling,
I tell you it's really not on.
It might be your toy,
But keep hitting the boy,
And mummy will make it be gone.

Please don't mither your mother.
It's been an awfully long day.
The only thought in my brain
That's keeping me sane,
Is bedtime is coming, hurray!

Mr Bloom's Nursery: Ladybird nibbles

We're not an especially green-fingered bunch. My daughter kills plants with kindness (over-watering) while I tend to kill them through neglect - with two kids and a cat, something's got to give! However Mr Bloom's Nursery rekindled my interest in gardening, and I like the idea of my kids knowing where their food comes from (and I don't mean Tesco).

The initial spark sputtered a bit after I realised just how quickly weeds grow back (who has time to weed every week?!) and that a bit of effort is required beyond chucking some water on when it's hot. My style of gardening boils down to sticking it in the ground and hoping for the best, and it delivers mixed results.

Our tomatoes, however, proved hardy sorts, and my daughter has enjoyed watering them with a special watering can from her grandparents. (The previous watering can was of less traditional construction, shall we say: an empty plastic milk bottle with some holes punched in the top end with a screwdriver. It did the job though.) After much waiting and watering, finally - finally! - we had some red tommies. Behold!



They were harvested with great enthusiasm, but when it comes to eating them, enthusiasm dips. I think perhaps Mr Bloom may have some responsibility in that area... I think the programme is great, teaching kids about how things grow and all that, but I wonder whether having animatronic vegetables - Sebastian the Singing Aubergine, Margaret the Cabbage, Joan the Fennel to name a few - is sending out mixed messages. Put it this way, when we are in the veggie section of Tescos, and my daughter points at the butternut squash, she doesn't shout out "Look, mummy, squash!", she shouts "Look, mummy, Raymonds!"

I had thought that having grown them she might have been more inclined to try them though. Baby Boy will chomp them down happily, but he's an undiscerning sort, bless him (and so was my toddler at that stage). Taking my cues from Mr Bloom and our garden friends, I tried dolling them up as ladybirds instead. I wish I could report that she then gobbled them up with gusto, but nay. But if you want to try similar, here's what I did:

Take:
2 tomatoes
4 raisins
Some balsamic vinegar

Using a sharp knife, cut the tomatoes in two.
Position tomatoes on plate with raisin placed at top, in the dent where the stem was.
Taking sharp knife again, dip it in balsamic vinegar, and draw a line down the tomato halves, and then dip again to add each spot. (This can be a bit fiddly).

Job's a good'un! I did try this with marmite instead of balsamic vinegar, which was frankly revolting, although more aesthetically pleasing. I also tried brown sauce, which was also less fiddly but possibly an acquired taste. Our tomatoes are quite intensely flavoured so with a blander (shop-bought) type, I'd give brown sauce another go.

Ladybirds are our friends, says Mr Bloom. I think my daughter has taken this too literally: every time we see a ladybird, she has to stop, greet it and give me a full report on what it's doing... Our walks have become epic. Thanks, Mr B...

Something Special: Mr Tumble's spotty bag

There is a new series starting on Monday, cue much excitement in our household. In honour of the occasion we have made our own spotty bag:



Take:
1 cereal box
1 piece of card (or side of another cereal box)
1 bin-bag
1 piece of paper

Next:
Cut down one edge of the cereal box from top to bottom lengthways, and across the bottom edge widthways, so you create a flap down one of the long sides (see below).
Tape up the opened end of the cereal box (i.e. where you originally opened the box), leaving just the flap you have cut free.
Cut other piece of card so that it can be stuck overlapping the flap you created (and stick it thusly), and bend it so it forms the 'main flap' which overhangs the bag.
Round off the bottom two edges of the card (as shown).



Cover box with white paper (or papier mache if so inclined).
Paint white paper yellow.
Draw around various circular objects and colour in the circles to make the spots. (My toddler had lots of fun looking for circles. We used a bottle lid, cotton reel, beaker, etc.)
Cut a strip from the binbag lengthways to form the strap of the bag. Attach to inside of box with sellotape.
Cut more strips from the binbag to form the bag detail (two strips down front of bag, strips around bottom edges and across bottom of box. Do I need to tell you to be careful about binbags and suffocation/bag-strap strangulation risks? If I do, consider yourself told.)
Stick spots onto boxes.
Finally, admire your toddler modelling bag.

(Postscript - Mr Tumble's got a new bag for the new series! To make the new bag, simply omit the black strips and leave the bottom of the bag yellow.)

Help! I'm covered in Petit Filous

Help! I'm covered in Petit Filous!
It's all over me and it's all over you.
It's gone on the cat and on Daddy's shoes,
Why did I give you that spoon to use?
You're only 10 months and you've got to learn how,
But I don't think it's sweat dripping down Mummy's brow.

I've cleaned this floor twice now, and that's just today,
But what you want food for aint eating, it's play,
And Mummy is mean if she takes it away.
Tell me now, please, is there some other way?
I wail on my knees while I'm scrubbing the floor,
"Surely this is not what my life's work's meant for!"

And sometimes I wonder would it really be rude
To have our all mealtimes entirely nude?
It'd save on my washing, it might be a laugh
And time-saving to stick naked you in the bath.
But I'm saying 'oh bother' instead of a curse,
And thinking that chocolate just might have been worse.

Three meals a day, seven days in a week.
I know each one's special, each one is unique -
But how many, pray tell me, just how many more,
Til he learns how to eat and I'm freed from this chore!

(Based on his sister, another 18 months... sigh.)

Something Special: review

Something Special is a masterwork; the crowning achievement of the ubiquitous Justin Fletcher. Cbeebies seems to rotate the series, and the producers seem to have nailed the format by about series 3 or so (you can spot the difference based on whether Mr Tumble or Justin introduces the programme). Mr Tumble comes into his own in those later series, and indeed we don't call it 'Something Special' in our house, it's known simply as 'Mr Tumble'.

I've watched it with my kids from a very early age, as what I found fascinating is that, throughout the programme, the presenter/characters use Makaton, a form of sign language. We did baby-signing with our kids in a rather half-hearted fashion using a book to teach ourselves, and that is, I think, derived from Makaton.

It's more a comment on our commitment than on baby-signing in general that the only sign that seemed to stick with either of our kids was 'milk', but it is amazing the difference that one sign can make. Just the other day, my grumpy boy was squalling and I couldn't figure out what he wanted - it was too soon for food or sleep - and then he starts desperately clenching and unclenching his fingers, a distress beacon of flashing digits. Ah! thinks dozy mummy, it's afternoon milk time...

Anyway, the reason that they use Makaton in Something Special is that the series is aimed at children with special educational needs, so where perhaps speech may be a problem, Makaton is another way for them to communicate. The children which Justin meets often (but not exclusively) have special needs. From a diversity perspective, I think it is great that my kids get to see a whole range of people represented on television, and I really like Something Special for that reason.

Another reason I really like it is the range of scenarios that Mr Tumble and Justin encounter, a wide spread of activities, from shopping to sailing. I find it quite interesting to watch, and I have picked up quite a bit of the signing myself without realising it. My daughter likes the signing too, and will often do that while she talks, which is sometimes a bit odd when we're out and about, but who cares... My little boy also seems to have picked up a bit, and will wave at the TV at the appropriate moments at the start and end of the programme. I really like the gentle humour of the series, the friendly tone, and that the kids actually do learn quite a lot from it, not just the signing but also about the wider world. I think Justin Fletcher does an excellent job presenting it, it is pitched perfectly.

It was quite an exciting moment last year when one of the series we were watching featured, as Mr Tumble's house, a holiday home we stayed in a couple of years prior. We went back there this year. It is a gorgeous house (see above,) so I will quite happily glaze over and pretend I am still there, looking at the sea view and enjoying the sunshine. I didn't tell my daughter we were staying in Mr Tumble's house. I think the lack of spots would have confused her.

Peppa Pig: The 10 second den

This doesn’t look much like a treehouse, does it? Well, that’s because our trees aren’t sturdy and my curtain-raising skills are lacking.



But The Pig has a treehouse, and so shall we... sort of.

To do this, you ideally need a bed that is a converted cot-bed, or a bed with a tall headboard and bottomboard (or whatever the technical term is for the bottom bit).

Take:
1 sheet – preferably not elasticated

Basically, what you’re creating is a giant knotted handkerchief-hat, so:

Knot one corner of the sheet.
Stretch the sheet across to another corner of the bed and tie another knot, slipping the sheet over the end of the bedhead.
Repeat with other two corners, tightening any knots as necessary to create the right tension.

Lastly, establish the password to gain admittance. (Although it is a kids bed and sturdiness must be a consideration, so I don’t suggest piling multiple occupants in at once, unless of the cuddly toy variety.) “Daddy’s big tummy” is Peppa’s preferred password, if you’re in need of inspiration...

Octonauts: Fish Biscuits

We all enjoy a bit of Octonauts. I love it as I (and the kids) get to learn about bizarre new marine life - Dwarf lantern sharks! Spookfish! Blobfish! - and it's all factually accurate (as far as I can tell, not being a marine biologist). My daughter loves it because of the adventures, and my son loves it because of the pretty colours and bold animation (I assume that's it, as for a while, when he was a newborn wracked with wind, Octonauts would be the only thing that could temporarily distract him).

The gist of the programme is Peso the penguin, Kwazi the cat-pirate and Captain Barnacles the polar bear have exciting adventures following their mission of "Explore! Rescue! Protect!" There's a supporting cast of Shellington the scientist (and otter), Professor Inkling the squid, Tweak the rabbit (the engineer and one of the two girl characters), and Dashi the dog (the other girl who just seems to take photos. I'm not sure what her role is, if she's a scientist, journalist or what, really.)

Their adventures are amusing, exciting, and all realised in a very cute style of animation I want to call "anime" but will probably be corrected... The merchandising doesn't seem to have caught up with this programme yet, there don't seem to be any associated products available in the UK yet, other than some storybooks. Which may be no bad thing.

I can't even find a proper recipe for 'fish biscuits', which are the staple food of the Octonauts, cooked by Tunip, a Vegemal (a cross between a vegetable and an animal, we assume, and of indeterminate gender). I'm not interested in the Lost 'fish-biscuits' which are fish-shaped but citrussy, I don't think those would satisfy a polar bear, let alone a cat-pirate.

So, I have created my own.

Fish biscuit recipe

5oz flour (I used self-raising but plain may work better)
2oz butter or margarine
1 egg
1/2 can tuna flakes in brine
Tabasco sauce
A little milk

Rub in butter and flour.
Beat egg and stir into mixture.
Drain tuna flakes well, press out as much moisture as possible, then stir tuna flakes into mixture.
Add extra flour if mixture is too sticky, until it becomes a dough-like texture.
Add a few splashes of Tabasco sauce and mix well.
Roll out onto a floured board.
Cut into fish shapes (or, for perfectionists, make a fish template out of greaseproof paper and use that to cut around).
Place on greased baking tray and brush with a little milk.
Cook Gas Mark 6-7, or around 220C (in our fan assisted electric oven) for about 8-10 minutes or until golden.


"Oh my god, you've actually made fish biscuits," uttered my husband, in tones bordering on horror. "Did you have to?" And then he ate one, admittedly under duress. The verdict? It was "Surprisingly okay, actually."

My daughter ate the whole of one before deciding she didn't want a second, and Baby Boy chomped through two (half of each ended up on the floor, but that's par for the course). So draw your own conclusions on taste. I personally think they'd have benefited from more bravery with the Tabasco sauce, but they were pleasant enough. (If you've ever had cobbler, then they reminded me of the pastry you get on top of that.)

Another thing I like about Octonauts is that when my daughter plays pretend-Octonauts, she has to be Kwazi but I have to be Captain Barnacles, which I am pleased to think recognises my place in the pecking order of the house. Daddy is Dashi, apparently. 'Nuff said.

3rd & Bird: Cowboy hat and boots

3rd & Bird is a mainly song-based animation centred on Rudy the cockatiel, Samuel and his sister Muffin (who are lovebirds, I think). The key messages are usually around teamwork, understanding, and perseverence. It's quite fluffy in many respects, fairly gentle after a busy day. I'm a bit confused about the 'worms and birds should get along' line they keep promoting (we have ravenous blackbirds in our garden, no wormy harmony here) but otherwise it seems harmless enough, and my son likes the songs.

So a recent episode had little Muffin wanting to be a cowgirl, which sparked the desire in my daughter for cowgirl hat and boots. It's cheaper, if not quicker to knock something together at home, especially given how quickly she grows. Et voila.



I was going for a ten-gallon style hat but perhaps would make it shorter next time.

Ignoring my husband's comments that the hat looks like something out of The Nightmare Before Christmas, I'm reasonably pleased with it, and my daughter enjoyed getting stuck in with making and painting the hat.

To make this, I took:

1 cereal box, of a size that it can fit round child's head
1 box which is long and fairly narrow (like a Mr Kiplings cake-bar box)
1 paper plate
Some brown paper
Newspaper and papier mache paste
Paint

For the hat:

Cut the cereal box in two, so the end of the box is intact. Squash the end of the box slightly to create a dip. Frill the end of the box so you can attach it to the plate. Using sellotape, attach the plate to the cereal box as shown.

Cut the centre out of the paper plate, leaving the edge of the plate intact, and leaving about an inch within the edge intact also. Snip this extra inch into a 'frill', but do not attach this to the box - this frill is to aid the fit of the hat.





Then, make up a papier mache paste (flour and water in roughly 2:1 proportions, and a bit of salt) and dip newspaper strips in the mix. Cover hat in strips and leave to dry.

When dry, paint brown. Add a strip of brown paper above brim for decoration if desired.

For boots:

Take a box that your child's feet can fit through. Cut box in half, removing ends so you have two tubes. Shape top edge into cowboy boot shape. Cover with brown paper.

Take some of leftover card from cereal box and cut into approximately a 10cm x 20cm rectangle. Fold into three and cut slits down the folds of around 5cm, as shown. Stick onto brown paper, roughly 30cm x 25cm (the paper shown here was a bit wider than 25cm, I trimmed it off afterwards).



Trim the brown paper level with the middle section, leave the outer sections of brown paper longer. Attach middle section to bottom of boot-leg section (you may need to bend the boot-leg section to make it rounder as you do this). Take the two strips of brown paper and overlap them with each other at the back of the boot. Secure with sellotape, to make boot-backs.

To be fair, the boots would benefit from some elastic underneath the foot to keep the sides squarer, but I don't have any elastic at present. Without this, the boots make fabulous duck-feet, don't you think?

Baby Jake: Footprint fun

Have you seen Baby Jake? A relatively new addition to CBeebies, in that style of animation I find a little creepy with people but fun with cats. But one of the rare TV offerings both my under-1 and nearly-3 year old both like.

So: Baby Jake. A bit bizarre. Don't look too closely at the rabbit. The longer you stare, the freakier it gets.



It's fine, is Baby Jake. It's repetitively familiar, same basic plots, same characters, same songs (both my kids love the "goggy gia" one and that other one he always sings - I want to call it the "oggy oggy oggy" song, but suspect I am conflating my references). It keeps both kids quiet for 10 minutes which is a rare gift and not to be argued with.

Anyway. There was an episode which was a "snowy adventure" and centred on footprints which captivated my toddler. And so the following activity was born, the closest approximation I could manage in the circumstances.



Take:

Flour
A tray/dish
Toys

Add flour to tray. Stamp toy's feet in flour. Make footprints.

Get bored of making footprints. Add water to flour. Make playdough.

An easy way to kill an hour... And if you are super-organised, you can even then transform the playdough into papier-mache adhesive.

Which was a thought that only struck me as I made up the papier-mache mix later that day.

"Magic baby see, magic baby do", they sing at the end... Which always reminds me of a certain Nirvana song, which is as tenuous a link as I need to link to it.

"Mummy, what have you done to yourself?"

Is not the response I was hoping for to my new haircut.

Why feminism matters if you're raising girls (or boys, for that matter)

Someone recently told me that we didn't need feminism any more, and things were pretty equal now. As I picked my jaw up off the floor, I barely knew where to start in pointing out just how far there is still to go. Feminism should be about equality, and we don't have that. We have damaging stereotypes about women, and damaging stereotypes about men; although the former outnumber the latter, it doesn't make either right.

The arrival of my daughter really brought this into sharper profile, as I start to look at the way things are marketed, and what it means to be raised as a boy or a girl. Leaving aside behavioural expectations, and 'sugar and spice' vs 'slugs and snails' ridiculousness, look at the visual signals. (I'm not going to get into the sexualisation of kids argument here, I haven't got time - the Bailey Review seemed to flag up some of the issues without setting anything in plce to actually deal with them.) But let's start with pink. Trying to find clothes that aren't pink, or don't feature some girly pink detailing, is extremely difficult. Part of me thinks that this is just so you 'have' to buy twice as many clothes if you have a girl followed by a boy, or vice versa. My son will sleep in pink babygros, and his jeans have pink trim on as they are hand-me-downs. It's actually easier to put a girl in boys clothes, as you can get more 'neutral' colours, and in trying to mix up her wardrobe to escape the pink-purple colour palette, yes I've bought boys clothes. (And, by the way, have you watched toddlers try to climb in dresses? It is a good tactic if you want to slow them down, that much is true.)

But it's not just clothes that are so clearly 'gendered'. Today I tried to buy a water bottle for my daughter, for preschool. One brand offered me either "Mighty Fighters" or "Pretty Princess". Pick a side, while I sign myself up to the 'Pink Stinks' campaign...

It may seem like a small thing to be hung up on trying to avoid wall-to-wall pink and princesses. But I do believe there is ultimately a knock-on effect. For instance, there was an interesting article on "princesses and the patriarchy" on a blog (which is sadly now defunct, but try this instead) which was brought to mind on reading an article about divorce: boredom is now the most commonly cited reason (phrased as "grown apart" or "no longer in love") and 7/10 divorces are initiated by women. (Feel free to read the comments below that article for a taste of misogyny in 2011.) I can't help but feel this situation might be related to the "princess met her prince and lived happy ever after" message that starts out in fairytales and continues to be played out in films, novels and TV aimed at girls/women. Most men aren't perfect Prince Charmings, and I'm not a perfect Princess either. But that's what we're sold.

In so many kids TV programmes, the boy characters outnumber the girl characters. Shows with a lead girl-character tend to be home-centred, (Peppa Pig, Olivia, Miffy), while shows with leading male characters are set in a wider range of contexts. We love Octonauts, but how often do the two female characters get to go out on missions, rather than it just being the central three males? I do wish Peppa Pig could be the 'brave knight' instead of the 'sleepy princess' in their role-plays. What it is to be a girl is drummed into kids, and to us, from a very early age. Becoming acclimatised to it takes the edge off, and makes it all the more insidious.

What got me thinking about this this morning was a feature on the news about how female contestants on University Challenge are likely to have abuse aimed at them online, in a way that just doesn't happen to their male counterparts.

And then there was some American businesswoman who had been invited on to comment (I'm unsure exactly who she was or why she in particular was on), and she says "In the nicest possible way, men are children". Frankly, that's just patronising to all concerned. It's not an excuse, and it shouldn't be put up with, just because "men are children". Men are not children. Men are adults, and responsible for their own behaviour. If they're not, how come they've got the right to vote?

There are so many ways that we don't have equality, and this woman's attitude of "keep your eyes on your goals and ignore it" whiffs of an "I'm alright Jack" attitude. Ignoring it doesn't change it, and things need to change.

Just look at some of the facts:

The gender pay gap in the public sector is 11%; in the private sector it's still more than 20%. That gap is unlikely to close in mine or my daughter's lifetime.

Neither I nor my daughter will live long enough to see equal representation for women in parliament.

GirlGuiding UK shows that girls under ten are linking body image and appearance to happiness and self-esteem.

Combine this with the fact self-esteem and happiness amongst girls are lower than ever, while eating disorders and body image obsession are starting younger and younger

Meanwhile you get pink products which say "I'm too pretty to do math" Hilarious, no? Why, in this context, am I surprised that female University Challenge contestants are getting abuse?

So yeah, there's a long way still to go before equality arrives on the horizon. Now excuse me while I get off my soapbox, I'm getting vertigo...

If you're interested, these people do good work and are worth supporting:

The Fawcett Society: The leading campaigners for equality between men and women in the UK
Pink Stinks: A campaign to challenge the culture of pink aimed at girls and promote positive gender role models
Object: Campaigning for a vision of a society free of 'sex object culture'

Feeling like Jeremy Paxman

"Daughter, where's the box for that game you were playing with?"
"Where's the box please? It's time to put it away."
"Where's the box?"
"Daughter, I need the box, please."
"The box, daughter. Where is it?"
"Where's the box?"
"Can you find me the box please?"
"Where's the box?"
"Where's the box?"
"Where's the box?"
"Where's the box?"

And still not getting an answer.

Waybuloo: paint butterfly

While we don't usually watch Waybuloo, chicken pox drove us to strange things. One episode we happened upon inspired this paint-fest:



Lest it be not obvious, to do this you simply:
Take your paper, fold it in two
Paint on one half
Re-fold and give it a good smoosh down (my toddler especially enjoyed this bit)
Unfold and behold!

It also works for faces, if you get bored of butterflies, and the big-eyed Waybuloo creatures were good subject matter.

It provided a bit of a diversion from the usual 'hand 'em a paintbrush and let 'em get on with it' painting. (When I say 'and let 'em get on with it', a truer reflection would be 'and try valiantly to contain paint to protective newspaper and intended paper'. Admire our technicolour floor.)

I'm not a fan of Waybuloo. I don't like the strange moon-faced Pipling animals, but I have no justifiable reason for disliking them other than personal taste. Perhaps it is that they subliminally remind me of alien 'greys' No? Just me that spent too much of my youth watching X-Files then... Give me the Clangers any day. (Oh lawks, am I really turning into one of those parents?)

What really irks me is the way they use the third person all the time. My kids are trying to learn to talk, so why are you teaching them that they should always speak like this:

"Yojojo love bananas!"

"Yojojo not eat bananas! Laulau paint bananas. Yojojo wait."

Mummy not like that. When kids acquire language through being immersed in it, it's not very helpful to be reinforcing the wrong patterns of speech, in my humble opinion. I can appreciate that the choice of pseudo-childish speech and made-up words are perhaps designed to work with the 'otherworldly' feel the programme-makers are trying to create, but as someone once said, you have to know the rules in order to break them. If you're still learning the basics, then I think a lot of that intent will go over the heads of the target audience. Then you're just left with badly formed verbs, traumatised pronouns and confusion.

As for the 'yogo', I don't have any time for the anti-yogo "religious indoctrination" argument. It's just exercise. But why not call it 'yoga' and be done with it? Is it because it's not strictly yoga? If not, why not? It's near enough, surely... I would have expected my daughter to enjoy the 'yogo' as she usually likes copying that sort of thing - witness her mimic my exercise DVD, feel the demoralisation of her managing the 'supermans' with complete ease - but it doesn't seem to grab her.

On the other hand, the 'Peeka' game (a.k.a hide and seek) is more engrossing. That's where the children, who are called Cheebies (again, why can't they use the proper word?) have to find the Piplings. To me, completely tedious; to her, mildly diverting. Fortunately, Waybuloo isn't one of her favourites. I don't think I could stand the linguistic abuse on a daily basis.

As I feel my blood pressure rise at the thought, it's probably time for a nice sit down, a calming cup of tea, and a reflection upon whether I am over-analysing these things, yet again... oh, the perils of being a former English student. Peppa Pig, all is forgiven.

First day at preschool

It was my eldest's first day at pre-school today! So I can add 'making packed lunches' to mummy-duties now...

I may have oversold the 'packed lunch' part of pre-school. My daughter hated her last nursery, so I was keen to make the distinction between preschool and what had gone before. She's always had a thing for picnics, and a packed lunch is close enough to make her happy. We made biscuits yesterday, figuring I may as well start out with good domestic goddess intentions (although there are Mr Kipling cake bars are in the cupboard - and I almost needed them, as I accidentally overcooked the biscuits by 15 minutes).

So, as I had told her that the biscuits were for preschool, my daughter was somewhat outraged when I picked her up that 'we didn't have biscuits mummy!'. I checked her lunchbag, and it was still sitting there in its bag. It turns out that while I need to send her lunch, their snacks get provided. Who knew? Hopefully that's the only preschool faux pas we'll make.

Anyway, while I spent an anxious day, fretting how she was getting on, her day - despite lack of biscuit - seemed to go well. She seems to be quite keen to go back... which is possibly the upside of being confined to the house for three weeks while we dealt with the chicken pox...

Peppa Pig: The Scarecrow

Or perhaps that should be 'bearcrow'. Either way, it's going to give me nightmares.



"Mummy! I love it!", she says. I feel a curious mixture of pride and revulsion towards my creation. This must be what it feels like to be Dr Frankenstein.

Look at it. It's like an extra from a Slipknot video.



This hat used to be cute. Now it's just freaky.

This is what comes of watching too much Peppa Pig. There is, of course, an episode in which Peppa and her brother George make a scarecrow with Grandpa Pig, which is the only thing that I can think which may have inspired my daughter's request to do the same. (Although there is the dingle-dangle scarecrow song too, which is an occasional favourite, if not for some time.)

The clothes which Baby Boy has outgrown are sitting in what we shall call a well-ordered pile at the bottom of his wardrobe. So it seemed a sensible plan to use those as the basis for construction, but then I realise I've basically made an unsettling baby-sized effigy.

My daughter's reaction of delight and wonder contrasts sharply with my husband's. "What is THAT?" he asks.

It's a scarecrow, obviously. Want to make your own? Here's how:

Take:

1 wooden spoon
Newspaper
String
Old clothes (suggest a hat, a long-sleeved bodysuit and trousers for ease of assembly)

And:
Tie off the ends of the legs and sleeves of the clothes with string.
Insert trousers through leg holes of bodysuit.
Stuff trousers with newspaper.
Insert wooden spoon into sleeves of body suit.
Stuff body suit with newspaper.
Stuff hat with newspaper.
Tie bottom of hat off with string.
Tie hat to wooden spoon with string.

Ta-daaaah! Now I just have to work out how long I have to keep it in the house before I can get rid of it without daughter getting upset...

We don't do matching socks in this house

It's reached the stage where people expect our kids to have permanently mis-matched socks. Clean socks, always. Matching? No. The above is a triumph, as both socks came from the same pack. That's about as close as it gets.

I did hear a rumour that the wearing of odd socks is one of the warning signs social services looks for, but I've been assured that's just a myth. (And if anything, parental wearing of flares should be judged more harshly.)

Tiny socks. Before you have kids, they look all cute and small. After kids, they're just a pain in the ass. (It would be unkind to say the same about the kids themselves. And mostly untrue, chicken pox tetchiness notwithstanding.)

My sofa is insatiable

What's my son's favourite toy? Could it be any of the carefully selected age-appropriate toys, such as the push-along fire engine (which is quite popular and in my view rather marvellous - doesn't need batteries, comes with a fireman and firelady, and is made in Britain!)? No, it's not even one of his sister's toys either. It's the remote controls.

I don't know what it is about remote controls, but my daughter was the same. We went out and bought a 'baby mobile phone' for her, which I figured was roughly equivalent, nay, even better than the real thing. It had rubbery buttons, was roughly rectangular, and bits lit up and made noises when you pressed the buttons! (So many things in my life post-kids light up and make noises. It's a bit like living in the Blackpool Illuminations.)

Of course, she would have no truck with it if there was a real remote control to hand, and nor will Baby Boy. A boring old remote control, that doesn't do much, unless you press the right button which makes Mummy go "Aaargh! No! I need that back now please!" as the TV comes on/goes off/gets very loud/opens up a menu I have never seen before or will again.

The upshot of this is that finding the remote control at any given moment is always a bit of a treasure hunt. To complicate matters, there's one remote control for the PVR, one for the DVD player, and one that makes the TV come on (and can make a DVD play, but only if it doesn't have a menu you need to navigate). So not only do you need to keep track of where one roving remote has been deposited by Baby Boy, you have to keep track of three. Or else witness me howling with frustration as I try to do my DVD workout without the DVD remote, thereby trapping me in an eternal loop of Intro > Medical recommendations. So near and yet so far, never able to move the menu selector down to 'Workouts'. It's a trial almost worthy of Greek tragedy.

Which is the situation I found myself in the other day. Daddy had the kids, it was a rare moment in which I had the house to myself. And could I find the remote contol I needed? Of course not.

I spent 30 frustrated minutes going through the living room trying to find the damn thing before giving up in a fit of pique.

Husband comes home and lends a hand with the hunt. Now I'd already looked in the sofa, shoving fingers down the sides and giving them a good wiggle to try and make contact with anything remote-control-ish, but it wasn't. And while there was a fair quantity of gubbins skulking in there, I didn't have time to clean it out. Boy should I have done.

Husband industriously retrieves the pile of clothes that had managed to migrate under the side panels and down the back of the sofa:



That's half a washload on its own.

Whilst taking joint-responsibility for not keeping on top of the situation - out of sight, out of mind - how has the sofa managed to absorb that many items of clothing?! Personally, I'd like to blame poor sofa design, as the side panels are wide enough for things to wedge themselves down, but not wide enough for you to stick your hand down to retrieve said stuff without leaving most of the skin off the back of your knuckles down there too.

Baby Boy is no longer allowed to play with the remotes. And the remote control I needed wasn't down there in the end. It was sitting on the other sofa, in plain sight. Where I'd looked three times already. Whoops.

Slummy mummy, out and proud...

The Scarlet Letter for the 2010s would be an S for slattern, surely? Yet I am a slattern. I am coming to terms with this, and deciding life would actually be happier if I stopped beating myself up over having a house that is more sideshow than show-home.

We don't live in filth, per se - my filth-tolerance is lower than my other half's. Or at least, I get more upset about it than he does. If only I had known than "fondness for housework" should have been on my wish-list for the ideal man. (No, really.)

It's so pointlessly futile: the constant battle for order against the forces of entropy. Clean against kids.

I clean the floor under the dining table, a proper on-your-knees-scrubbing job, three times a day. I have to: Baby Boy spreads his food liberally around the general area of consumption. My daughter often encourages this by blowing raspberries at him while he's eating. He, of course, imitates and sprays a fine layer of porridge/spaghetti/rice pudding across everything. Including me.

So following on from that, I don't see the point in making that much effort in my appearance, if all I am doing is child-wrangling. (When I am working, it's different. I have, to my knowledge, only turned up to work once with baby-snot on my shoulder.)

My nails are short, as I don't want to scratch my little ones, and there's the small matter of the washing up, which wrecks any attempt at encouraging non-flaky growth. I know I could put gloves on to do it, but it's rare that I get to stand at the sink and focus on washing up. It's usually a case of rushing a couple of plates through while making sure the kids stay within line of sight. There's the washing up from breakfast, lunch, kids tea, grown-up dinner, plus sundry drinks receptables that gets done.

There's all the washing of clothes to get done. That's about ten washloads a week by the time you take into account the bedding, the towels, the kids clothes, my clothes. Kids get through a lot of clothes - paint, food, other stains you don't want to examine too closely... Husband does his own washing as he doesn't trust me not to wreck his clothes. I don't know how this state of affairs originated, and it annoys me that he thinks I can't do it, but I'm quite happy not to have the extra washing, all the same.

My hair, like my nails, is short for practical reasons. It's not that hard to untangle baby-fingers when they clamp down on two-inch lengths of hair. As my daughter knows, let them get tangled in anything longer and it'll bring tears to your eyes. I'm quite happy with short hair though, it suits me and I am in and out of the shower, dried and dressed within 10 mins, or the length of an episode of Squiggle It. It baffles me how my husband seems to require so much longer. I think I've lost the knack of taking over an hour to get ready these days...

As for shoes, there's no point in wearing ones you can't run in when you're out with toddlers. My daughter's pretty good, but I wouldn't like to guarantee she'd not bolt off at any given moment, with me in hot pursuit. (Last time it was in Waitrose. That'll teach me to get ideas above my station for supermarkets!)

There's another reason wearing heels isn't really an option at present, which is due to ongoing back problems endured since Pregnancy The Second. It is no fun having a dodgy back, even less fun with two kids. I really feel Victoria Beckham's pain. But at least high heels aren't at the cornerstone of my persona.

I love my trainers. I am more attached to my current Punkrose than I have been to a pair of trainers in years, but I'm mentally preparing myself to part with them. They're getting a bit (whisper it) stinky. And with a suede finish they're not going to wash well. They've been the most comfortable shoes I have had in ages, accommodating my wide great-for-yoga-not-for-shoe-shopping feet. And I love the star motif, it's what called to me from the shelf before I bought them. They're not doing too badly either, considering they've been worn pretty solidly for six months. Look:



It's a shame they're just not as fragrant as could be desired. And I do feel a bit slovenly as I slip them on to leave the house. Like I should be wearing 'grown up' shoes by now, or something.

I have a mixed relationship with shoes. I buy them, and then somehow on the way back from the shop, the stylish yet comfortable footwear I tried on morphs into some torturously uncomfortable instrument of pain. (I admit there may be an element of self-deluding optimism that I will 'break them in', some kind of temporary insanity that overwhelms me at point of purchase.) But life is too short for painful shoes. Shove 'em to the back of the wardrobe, they won't be lonely...

Which brings me back to the subject of heels. On one hand, I do think they look good, on the other I'm aware of the feminist argument against heels. But the bottom line is that I don't have the patience to be bothered with shoes that hurt my feet. Harking back to Victoria Beckham, bunions are something my life can do without. (And it doesn't always stop at bunions - my feminist bosom heaves disapprovingly at the idea that right now in the 21st century "some women are even going under the knife to shorten their toes or inject padding into the balls of their feet to allow their feet to fit more comfortably into a pair of stilettos (Sherr). While these may be oddities of fashion, they gesture toward an exciting array of fashion choices women have today." "An exciting array of fashion choices"? I can't really get excited about foot mutilation...)

So here I sit, in my stinky trainers, food covered jeans, looking at cat-hair tumbleweeds roll across my floor and I think should I be making more of an effort? And then I think, nah, Baby Boy will be up for a feed in an hour or so, I'm off to bed...