Angry Bird Pop Up Book

I'm perversely proud of the fact I have had the same mobile phone since 2004. It is a Nokia, of some description, which has survived various soakings, droppings and assorted toddlers that would see off most whippersnapper smart phones. I do not have the technology to have apps though, and so the Angry Birds phenomenon largely passed me by. Until The Girl wanders off to play on Grandad's laptop, and shortly thereafter loud explosions can be heard. Cue maternal intervention...

So some time after, the The Girl says she would like a pop-up book. It's been a while since I've done any paper engineering, but birds I can do. It's only after I create it, I realise it does bear a resemblance to an Angry Bird. But never mind, eh? At least it wasn't Plants vs zombies... I didn't really want to have to explain zombies to a 3 year old. I would much rather have the conversation that goes:

"Why are the birds angry, Mummy?"
"Because the pigs stole their eggs, darling."

Than:

"Why are the zombies attacking, Mummy?"
"Because they want to eat your brains, dear."

If you would like to make your own Angry Bird pop up, take:

2 pieces of paper
Pritt stick
Felt tips
Optional stickers

Fold each piece of paper in half
Take one folded piece of paper, and with the outer edge of the fold facing you, snip a 2 inch or so slit in the paper.
Then bend the paper so that the slit folds up to create a diagonal fold between the edges of the slit and the middle of the page. Do this both at the top and bottom of the slit to create the 'beak'.
Stick the outer edges of the paper with the 'beak' (beak side out) to the other piece of paper to create a 'book' fold.
Add features to create your bird! Open and shut the 'book' to make it 'squawk'!

The bird's beak can also be adapted to become a frog or fish. Or, if you are feeling adventurous, a dragon. But definitely not a zombie's toothless maw...

That's Doctor Ariel, to you...

So when I found out my firstborn was going to be a girl, I took a bit of mild ribbing from some quarters about what I'd do if she was a girlie-girl, given that I'm, well... put it this way, I never played with Barbie or Sindy as neither held much interest for me, but I can hold my own in any conversation about Transformers, He-man or Thundercats (not the new versions, mind!) The joys of having a brother! Although I'm pretty sure that the He-man figures were mine first...

I do remember some princesses featuring in my childhood though... how I longed for the more exotic name of "Melisande" - the princess from "Flight of Dragons"- which after "Samantha" (worryingly, after Sam Fox) I thought was the most beautiful name in the world, ever. And wishing I had long blonde hair, something they both had in common. I was definitely mid-primary school when the name-changing blonde-hair yearnings began.

I'm not sure why Ms Fox passed across my childhood consciousness, but I think just from hearing her talked about in the media, in the way that Jordan is now (only with Ms Price it's even more so). Possibly also Top of The Pops, which tallies with the timescale. So in the context of page 3 girls, are Disney Princesses comparatively harmless?

I have to say I'm really not keen on some of the messages that 'Disney Princesses' in particular put out there - the point of life is to be pretty above all, to be passively rescued from your fate, meet your Prince, get married, keep being pretty, yawn - but my position's been challenged lately, as the Girl's friends are big on all that franchise... So the dilemma then becomes how my principles mesh with the reality of child-raising. I'm not raising my child in isolation from other influences. How can you? But do I exclude her from 'princess parties', grudgingly go along with it, or try and keep some perspective...

I'm aiming for the latter, and taking the line that princesses are probably like a box of chocolate: not that you never know what you're going to get, more that if you have the odd one now and again, in context of an otherwise varied diet it's fine.

And while I'm not a fan of princesses, I will make an exception for Princess Pearl. She of the 'zog' book, from the 'Gruffalo' stable of Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler. I'd forgotten about her, til we had that story for bedtime tonight. She gives up being a princess to become a doctor - sensible choice in these stormy times - and with a small suggestion from me, the Girl was pretty keen for me to make a 'white coat' for her Ariel toy. Although she's still a bit confused as to why Ariel wears 'silly shoes' that she can't stand up in (that'll be because her hair makes up about half of her bodyweight, dear).

"You don't wear silly shoes, do you Mummy?"

Um. Well, sometimes. Maybe. *cough*

If you want to make a white coat, take:

Some white paper or plastic.
Cut a rectangle of appropriate size.
Cut holes for arms, and put on doll.
Secure with appropriate fastening (yes, I know the rubber band makes it look more like a kimono)
Bodge together optional stethoscope with pipe-cleaner. Ta-dah!

Princesses. Huh. These days, I'm more likely to be carried off by a man in a white coat than a knight on horseback, but hey...

Wrapping paper jewellery

"And so this is Christmas, and the bin-men don't come / Our blue-bin's overflowing, and what can be done?"

Well, we'll just have to wait til next Friday when they will come. Stiff upper lip, chaps! Just step over the piles of coke cans and boxes in your way...

It's not that I think a weekly collection is necessary the rest of the year, but at Christmas they come late anyway and we have acres of packaging to dispose of. I am sure there is some inverse proportion between the age of the person getting the present and the size of the box it comes in. Fortunately, for once, this year what was in the big box - a play kitchen - was more interesting to both kids than the box it came in. Result!

In the meantime it's back to reusing whatever we can... Got too much wrapping paper left over from Crimbo? Turn it into fabulous jewellery!

The idea for this came loosely from decoupage, which I was reminded of walking along the river looking at the houseboats. Which in turn reminded me of Rosie and Jim, chugging along on the Old Ragdoll. Which got me to thinking about Ragdoll Productions. Bear with me, there's an interesting and random fact coming...

For some reason I thought Rosie and Jim was the first thing Ragdoll had done, but it turns out it isn't -but that's not the interesting fact. They've done loads of things, including DipDap, In The Night Garden and Teletubbies, and that I didn't realise that shows I really should be paying more attention to the TV. (Or perhaps the reason it hasn't registered is that I am paying so much attention to my kids. Yes, that must be it.)

Turns out the latest thing that Ragdoll are up to is my beloved Abney and Teal - that's not the interesting fact either, but here it comes - and looking on their website I discover that Shingai Shoniwa, who is the voice of Teal, is also the lead singer of The Noisettes! Who knew? I keep listening to 'Never Forget' and trying to superimpose "That was an adventure Abney!" over the top. It's blowing my tiny mind! Or perhaps that's the fumes from too much PVA glue again...

Fancy getting all gluey?

Take:

Old wrapping paper - the shinier the better!

PVA glue

A straw - or a pencil will do

Some string or old parcel ribbon

Cut the wrapping paper into long triangle 'pennant' shapes - the longer the pennant, the fatter the final bead.

Place the straw in line with the base of the triangle, and roll the paper around the straw once. Hold in place and then cover the rest of the paper with glue.

Roll straw to roll up the rest of the paper around it. The glue will probably squidge everywhere, but that's okay.

Slide the straw out.

Smear squidged-out glue over the outside of the bead to seal.

Place bead on-end on a surface you don't mind getting gluey - a plate, or something plastic is good. Not paper!

Repeat to make more beads, and leave to dry. You may need to wipe the straw between beads depending on how gluey it gets.

When dry, thread beads onto string or old parcel ribbon to make into bracelets or necklaces.

Teddy Sledge

Things we have had to explain to ToddlerGirl about Christmas this year:

* It's not guaranteed to snow on Christmas Day
* Just because it is snowing doesn't mean it is Christmas Day
* Father Christmas and Santa Claus are the same person; you won't get presents from both

Actually, she won't be getting presents from either, as we're not really comfortable with that tradition. Why? Well, we're not religious types and the idea of an omnipresent person who watches and judges you and rewards you accordingly isn't something that I choose to subscribe to. I'd ideally prefer moral compasses to be directed by internal values than external incentives. The whole "you must be good or you won't get stuff" thing can have unintential side-effects in the long-term, and I'd refer you to Alfie Kohn (or my previous post) for further info.

However, recognising this is a sensitive subject and trying to be respectful of other people's beliefs makes the 'not doing Santa' line harder to walk. Father Christmas already came to preschool and gave ToddlerGirl a book. I'm telling her that's her present from Father Christmas. She will be getting stockings and presents on Christmas Day, but that's not contingent on her behaviour; I don't have a mental tally of how good or bad she has been and therefore which presents she is or is not entitled to. Although it is amazing how many people just assume everyone does Father Christmas... How many times already has she been told "have you been a good girl for Santa?", "I hope Santa brings you lots of presents", or, when she doesn't want to leave somewhere she's having fun, "you have to go or Santa won't know where to bring your presents" (if he "knows when you are sleeping, knows when you're awake, knows if you've been bad or good", surely he knows if you are in your own house or not?)

You can't apply a logical approach to Father Christmas, though I know of several children that are terrified by the idea of a strange man breaking into their house, which seems utterly logical to me. And I know of children incredibly distressed as to how Father Christmas will get in if they have no chimney. At times, they're more logical than you'd credit, kids.

So I'm telling her Father Christmas doesn't come to our house. He may visit other people's houses, but we have lots of presents already. I'm hoping this is an adequate compromise. I don't want her to be "that" child in the playground the other mothers hate for shattering illusions, but equally I don't want to be railroaded into a tradition which has no real benefit. If I'm going to lie to my kids, I need a better reason than that. Anyone wailing about "the magic" will get short shrift. There's plenty of magic to go around; just watch my toddler playing in the snow. There's no need to fabricate it. I've long believed Father Christmas is more for the adults' benefit anyway. If Santa's so lovely, how come he's so often used as a threat? "If you don't behave, Father Christmas won't come!"

We're treating Father Christmas in broadly the same terms as Peppa Pig. Father Christmas is in around 90% of the Christmas Specials I've seen thus far anyway, I'm not going to be so "bah humbug" as to ban any mention of his name, or any image of his face from our home. In that spirit, when ToddlerGirl asked if I could make something out of an empty nectarine tub, I couldn't think of anything other than a sledge... It's not a Santa sledge, though she insisted it is pulled by deer.

Look at my beautiful balloon deer! Technically it's probably an antelope as it has horns rather than antlers but I've only been trying the old balloon modelling thing for three days so as improvs go, it'll do for me...

If you want to make a sledge for teddy, take:

* An empty fruit tub
* Wrapping paper
* Tinsel
* A bit of curling ribbon

Wrap the tub in the wrapping paper, sellotaping it down inside the tub.
Sellotape tinsel around the top of the tub
Sellotape ribbon to front so that sledge can be pulled along by optional deer.

Fairy hat

"Mummy, I need a fairy hat for the party, can we make one?" she says. My mind flicks through all my fairy-touchpoints, from Tinkerbell (the hatless hussy) to Fairy Godmothers (kindly but also hatless), and I can't think of a single fairy that wears a hat. I wonder whether the request comes from watching Ben and Holly's Little Kingdom, but Holly wears a crown and ToddlerGirl tells me that just won't do.

Turning to my old friend Google, I find this video on how to make fairy hats, and look, it works! And all you need is some newspaper, sellotape and curling ribbon. Not technically hats, as such, but I've made a couple and they turn out remarkably sturdy. They do not, however, stay in place when your fairy is bouncing on a bouncy castle, which, given she spent pretty much the whole party there, rendered the whole hat-making process somewhat obsolete...

Thinking about it after the event, as I tuck into some fantastic Victoria Plum jam (from Dream Preserves, aptly named), it hits me - why did I not think of Victoria Plum? She had the best hat ever!

Victoria Plum made a big impression on me as a toddler. So much so, that I wanted to call my baby brother Benjamin after her friend. Sadly my nan had named her dog that already, so it was not to be. I like to think Ben Elf from B&H's Little Kingdon is a distant relation of Benjamin's. Or maybe Ben is just a good name for elves. Take note, J.R.R. Tolkien.

When it comes to hats, it is hard to beat Victoria Plum's bindweed flower. I used to love picking these flowers for my toys to wear as 'hats', and never could understand why my mum hated the stuff. Even though it runs riot in the garden, I still think it is the prettiest of weeds. But you could probably make Tinkerbell's entire outfit out of one bindweed flower these days.

Maybe the feeling that Tinkerbell is a bit too sassy compared to Victoria Plum is just a sign I'm getting old, though I've never liked her; I thought she was quite nasty in the original Peter Pan book, albeit truer to the original idea of faeries as fickle and malevolent creatures. The smart-talking added-sass Disney version of Tinkerbell does not sit well with me either. Look at Betty Boop - a cartoon character aimed at adults in the 1920s, a self-confessed sex-symbol - and see how Tink's been borrowing from her wardrobe. Interesting how things change.

But then I look at the Victoria Plum and wonder just how practial a long skirt is for woodland-living, and wonder why no fairies wear trousers. Or capri pants, even. And as I look a little longer at Ms Plum, with her 80s hair full of fluffy bigness, I realise that's probably why she wore a hat. What a nightmare that would be to manage! But if ToddlerGirl decides she wants a fairy hat in future, I think that's the way to go.

Drum kit

(Note for readers: for some reason Blogger appears not to 'see' capital zs - so excuse the lowercase where it should be uppercase below - if anyone knows a fix to this problem, do share!)

I was vaguely aware of the launch of zingzillas, but I don't really like the 'people dressed up' style of childrens' programme. It was probably for that reason that I glossed over it until relatively recently. "Oh, people dressed up as monkeys pretending to play in a band, yawn..." said my brain. How wrong was my brain! The characters are growing on me, but the format of the programme looks at a different style or aspect of music (and sometimes associated dance) each week, and it's actually quite interesting. My 1 year old loves it - and there are few more hilarious things than watching a 1 year old dance. I'll put zingzillas on, he watches it, I watch him...

As musical introductions go, I'm much more a fan of that than Space Pirates. I chanced across that briefly a couple of weeks back. The gist is that some kids ask for music based on a theme (e.g. 'holiday'), and the Space Pirates find and play them three tracks; one a 'classic' music video, one a live performance and one a pop-song interpreted by spacerat-puppets. But I never needed to see this again, where I least expected it, lurking inside an apparently innocent kids' programme:

My ears! My ears!! Get back on the Vengabus, you Euro-pop-manglers!

Continuing the musical/ear-punishment theme, I 'made' BabyBoy a drum kit, very loosely based on Tang's from zingzillas. It's approximated as best one can when one's working in the medium of rubbish... 'Made' sounds rather grand when it basically involved collecting tubs and kidding yourself that you needed more Betty Crocker icing. He loves it though, and the sound is not bad... Certainly quieter than the real thing, which is a plus in my book!

The drum-sticks were more properly 'made', to please my husband's paranoia of eye-putting-out, and have taken a fair amount of battering well. They are firm enough to get a decent "whack" but not so pointy as pencils or whatever else might work for impromptu purposes.

Take:
Tubs of various sizes
Some newspaper
Sellotape

For the drums, clean and arrange tubs... Er, that's it.
For the drumsticks, take two sheets of newspaper and roll them diagonally to form a long tube.
Twist the tube in on itself to make a stronger 'pole'
Bind pole tightly in sellotape.
Chop pole in two and tidy the ends. (I also wondered about 'frilling' the end of the newspaper before binding in sellotape, so you could create a 'sweeper' brush for the drum, but I haven't as yet got round to it.)

DIY story book

I suppose, if anything, Driver Dan's Story Train inspired this activity. When it comes on, I always have to pretend to be Driver Dan, ToddlerGirl is Hip and BabyBoy has to be Hop (rabbits, donchaknow). Sundry cuddly toys get to rotate the task of being Twinkle. The redeeming feature of the programme is the stories, which the eponymous lion reads in the later half of the episode - proper books! The first half is some loosely thrown together plot which has something to do with the following story. I'm not really a fan, but it is completely inoffensive and it is a good introduction to some stories I, sorry, we may not otherwise encounter. I've recognised a couple that have come on, but most are new to us. (Another way to find new books is #fictionfriday on Twitter, championed by HomeDad.)

ToddlerGirl's very into her imaginative play. She has a slightly disturbing fascination with pretending dried apricots are babies, and that she is a troll who lives under the bridge (for that, read dining table) who pops up to steal the babies and eat them. She likes it best if I pretend they are my babies and she has to wrest them from me with some semblance of a struggle... There is some deeply disturbing sibling rivalry subtext to this, isn't there? She also likes pretending to sail boats, while pretending her brother's a big fish roaming the seas, so it's not all baby-eating. Honest. She throws him back most times.

Anyway, today I decided to try and channel some of that imagination, as I was tired and wanted to do something sitting-downy. So I made a blank book and got her to tell me the story while I wrote it down. She then drew pictures to go with the words. It was quite good fun!

Take:

Some A4 paper, folded widthways in two (I used 5 sheets)
A needle
Some thread
Coloured pens

Take the folded paper and make two big stitches in it with the needle and thread to hold it together as a book. You could use staples if you wanted, but I couldn't find the stapler. And this way I don't have to worry about the staples coming out and getting eaten or embedded in feet/fingers/other.
Get toddler to tell you a story, and transcribe!
I went for the minimal intervention approach, although I did point out when we were starting to run out of pages that maybe we were getting to the end.

For those of you who are interested, here is the story ToddlerGirl wrote:

Once upon a time...
There was a car and a rabbit.
The rabbit was stuck up a mountain.
The car was stuck in the water. The car was sinking.
Fireman Sam likes rescuing things.
He is going to rescue the rabbit first.
He is going to climb up a ladder and rescue the rabbit.
Now the rabbit isn't stuck any more.
Fireman Sam is going to sail in a boat and rescue the car.
Fireman Sam loves me.
Let's have a picnic for Fireman Sam.
Everybody is happy!
Then Fireman Sam got stuck!
What a silly Fireman Sam!
The car can't reach him.
But the rabbit can jump up high and reach him.
The rabbit jumped high and rescued Fireman Sam.
What a clever Fireman Sam!
Now Fireman Sam isn't stuck.
The rabbit jumped down and they had a picnic and a tea party.
And nobody got stuck again. What silly things!

Small potato prints

I love Small Potatoes. It's like Creature Comforts but with potatoes: sing it with me! "Small potatoes on the moon! Small potatoes in the sea!" Utterly random, but hilarious. And remarkably short at 3 mins or so.

Being so enamoured, I did then feel a bit like a axe-murderer as I hacked into my Baby Charlottes for a spot of spud printing.  I was doing my Christmas shopping online (yes, I am that organised, sometimes) and found ChattyNora's wonderful posters, which although they are hand-drawn have a lovely retro-print feel. And then I had this idea that the kids would like making Christmas cards for the nearest and dearest - told you I was organised - and wouldn't it be simply darling for them to print lovely festive symbols and then shower them with glitter?

Yeah, right. There is a place for glitter, and it isn't all over my floor. I am reminded of the conversation I had with my husband earlier this week about getting a real fir tree for Christmas. There are not enough hours in my day for that amount of hoovering. It gets everywhere. And, with a TMI warning, I mean everywhere - and what goes in must come out. You know what I'm talking about. Glitter makes many things nicer, but the contents of nappies remain unimproved.

But if you wish to pursue the potato printing route, sans glitter, take:

Some small potatoes
A sharp small knife
Some paint
Some paper

Cut off the end of the potato to create a flat surface to work with.
Cut shape/pattern into the end of the potato - simple is best, in my experience. Holly leaf, snowflake and stars, for instance. The areas left raised are what will print, so you need to cut away quite deeply in order to get a clear stamp.
Splat spud into paint, wipe off excess if possible.
Make prints.

Needless to say, potatoes are not suitable for eating after use!

Watercress Oakley

I was in the pub with a friend (pre-kids, so long ago!) who was trying to describe this programme she had seen with blue rabbits and talking trees and it all sounded nonsensical and surreal... Not uncommon for things to sound nonsensical and surreal after a few bevvies, but I have latterly come to the conclusion that she must have stumbled upon Everything's Rosie.

It's got talking trees! The last kids thing I watched with talking trees was The Last Unicorn film. And that was a rather over-familiar, one might even say 'fruity', tree. If you have seen the cartoon, you'll know what I mean. If you haven't, here's the clip.

Is Oakley a derivative of that proto-tree? You decide...

If you want to grow your own Oakley, take:

A section of kitchen roll
Some Tipp-ex or white paint
A black felt-tip
Some cotton wool
Watercress seeds

Draw an Oakley face on the kitchen roll - using white paint or Tipp-Ex makes the eyes stand out
Stuff the roll with cotton wool
Sprinkle watercress seeds on top!
Water the seeds - keep the kitchen roll tube slightly damp to stop the seeds drying out
Wait a few days for Oakley's 'branches' to grow!

(THEN EAT THEM!! MWAH HA HA HAA!!)

Stick horse

Mock me, will you sock? Roaming defiantly un-paired? Well HA! This'll teach you.

I'm not a fan of princesses in general, but for Little Princess I will make an exception. She's 4 years old, charming, frustrating, stroppy... did I mention she's 4 years old? I'm told she's very like I was at that age.

Visually, it reminds me of King Rollo, but it's actually drawn by Tony Ross of Horrid Henry fame. Little Princess lives in a castle, with her Mummy, Queen (who's permanently wearing a headscarf, crown balanced on top) and Daddy, King (usually wearing a tie and scruffy jacket). They are pretty much a normal family but they happen to be royal. And there's sundry other supporting characters who live with them in the castle - take the Prime Minister, for instance. To quote his biog on the Little Princess website, he'd "rather ride around on his tricycle with the Princess than run the country". Obviously a Tory then.

It's very wittily observed. Little Princess is pretty much at the centre of all things, and yes, I can relate to the feeling that your household is run around your preschooler. Of the staff, the General is my favourite, all well-meaning bumbling and 5 o'clock shadow. He rides Nessie, the stick-horse which inspired this activity. Have you seen Monty Python & The Holy Grail, where the knights pretend to ride horses but are just followed by a chap clapping coconut shells together? It's that sort of deal with the General's horse. Plus there's a wonderful romantic subtext going on with the General and the Maid that's begging for it's own ITV2 miniseries. (How I wish I had a Maid! I'd settle for a General though, if he was good at washing up... heck, I'd settle for a dishwasher.)

I'm not keen on princesses, all beautifully useless waiting for their princes. And I do think that the 'princess' message pushed at our kids is potentially damaging, especially when there are books like this in school libraries today (as dissected in an excellent blog post by SenseofEntitlement). However Little Princess is much more "real" than the usual princess fantasies; being 4 years old helps, of course, as even princesses have to learn how to use the potty. All in all, it's one of the programmes that I will hop across to Five for; it foregrounds relationships in most of the plots, getting along with people, helping each other, and that sort of thing, but not in a preachy or idealised way. It's a world much closer to one that I recognise... apart from the Maid thing*. But if we had a maid we wouldn't have stray socks available for horse-transformations, so there's an upside for you.

Anyway, you can buy yourself a real "Nessie" for the princely sum of around £15. Or you can fashion your own by using the inner tube from some wrapping paper and a sock.

Take:

One sturdy tube of around 1m length (ours was from some old Xmas wrapping paper)
One sock - white for preference
Some newspaper
A rubber band
Some white paper and some brown/black paper - or fabric if you want something more permanent
Some felt-tip pens - washable, if you're bothered about re-using the sock

Take the sock and stuff it with newspaper, up to just beyond the heel.
Insert tube into neck of the sock.
Sellotape edge of sock to the tube, and loop a rubber band around it for added security.
Draw a face and spots on the sock
Cut out two 'arches' out of the white paper and fold in two lengthways.
Use sellotape to attach these 'ears' to the horse.
Cut a length of brown or black paper and frill it for a mane.
Sellotape mane to horse - I cut tabs and alternated the side I stuck the tab down to make the mane stand straighter.
(You could use fabric and stitch the mane and ears on instead - I was going for a fast make so didn't bother. If the appeal proves durable, I may re-make it in that fashion. If I can be bothered.)

Gee up! Get busy with the boxes and toys for an obstacle course/jump race for the littl'uns...


*And we don't have a pond either. Or an Admiral stood in it. Or in fact any staff at all...

Chugger!

So having lovingly put together a Vee, ToddlerGirl requests a Chugger! Tsk, so demanding. Grabbing what was to hand, I threw together a Wilson.

Take:

1 box
1 piece of plain paper
1 felt tip

Cover box in paper.
Draw Chugger on top, sides, front and back of the box.
Give to toddler and let her colour in!

Add optional random empty box as a garage. Do trains live in garages? They do now.

Pretend telephone - homage to Chuggington's Vee

Chu-ggington, chugga chugga chugga chugga chugga... I have been caught humming the theme tune in the supermarket, 'tis true. Thomas the Tank Engine it aint, and though I never thought I'd say it, I actually prefer it. (Thomas was never the same after Ringo stopped voicing it, the miserable toad.)

We usually catch Chuggington's Badge Quest of an evening, which is a seemingly unending series of tasks that the "Chuggers" have to complete. (And by "chugger" I don't mean a "charity mugger", that's just what trains are called in this. Why can't they call a train a train? Don't get me started, or I'll be bringing Waybuloo into it again in no time.)

Although I am sure I've seen many (many!) Badge Quests, the badge-boards never seem to have more than 5 badges on them. What happens to the rest of them? These are the things I wonder about in quiet moments. (It makes a change from worrying about the Euro or whatever. I like wrestling with the big issues, me.) The 'quests' are a random range of things from "recycling" to "follow the leader". Badge Quests yet to feature include "leaf removal", "rush hour" and "dealing with customers outraged by extortionate price hikes".

Funnily enough, I've never seen anyone buy tickets in Chuggington, yet this week's Cbeebies magazine does have a ticket-conductor set on its front. If you hurry you can still get one, the next issue's out on Wednesday so you've got til then. ToddlerGirl was amused for five minutes or so but by far the best bit is the "Stop/Go" paddle that you flip to tell the trains to stop or go. Crazy, I know! It's been like living in an MC Hammer video this week. ("Stop! Hammertime"!) I'm well trained in the stopping and going now. Now if ToddlerGirl would just return the favour in the potty training area, we'd be laughing...

Anyway, here we have a "Vee" of sorts. Vee is the disembodied voice that
tells the Chuggers what to do. Orwellian? Maybe. My take on it is a new spin on the tried and tested yoghurt-pot telephone.

Take:
2 jelly pots
1 dessert pot (Milky Bar in this case).
1 kitchen roll inner
Some blue paper
Some plain paper and felt tips
Some string

Cover the jelly pots in blue paper (or paint, if you have some that sticks to plastic.)
Sandwich some blue-tak between the two pots by way of cushioning as you drive a screwdriver carefully through the bottom of first one jelly pot and then the other. (Be gentle or it will crack!)
Using the same method, put TWO holes in the dessert pot.
Cover the kitchen roll tube in blue paper.
Use the screwdriver to carefully put a hole in each side of the kitchen
roll.
Knot a length of string and thread it through one jelly pot, through one of the kitchen roll tube holes, then up out of the top of the kitchen roll. Now thread the string up and down through the dessert pot, and back into the kitchen roll and out the other side. Knot string and other end.
Pull the string up in the dessert pot to draw strings tight and pull 'Vee' together.
Draw the train sign and colour it in before sticking it on the front of the kitchen roll.
Draw Vee's lights and stick them on the dessert pot.

You can then pull the jelly pots out and talk/listen into each end as appropriate. Of course, once we had Vee, ToddlerGirl then sensibly pointed out we needed Chuggers - so watch this space.

The likeness to Vee could be better with more effort, but it passed the time on a wet morning. Obviously the string is a strangling hazard so as ever, be careful. (Those eagle of eye will notice we used balloon ribbon and not string. Our string is currently AWOL. If you see it, give it some stern words and send it home!)

Money-box

I rue the day I let my toddler go on the crappy kids' ride at the supermarket. "The airplane" has become a mild obsession. You wanna know the worst bit? I did a quick shop run over the weekend, and it's gone. Replaced by some pink jeep thing. I'll have to break that traumatic news next time we visit.

So while I'm mostly saving up for the kids' therapy, ToddlerGirl is mostly saving up for these rides. All of which is a round-about way of getting to the point that she needed a moneybox. Which needed decorating.

I know my parenting falls short at times, but I don't know whether to be worshipping at the feet of Charlie and Lola's never-seen mum, or reaching for social services' phone number. She's remarkably 'hands-off' in her approach, leading to genuine concerns she may be slumped over a bottle of gin somewhere. My fears solidified after reading "I'm not sleepy and I will not go to bed", in which Charlie's told to put Lola to bed. Which he does: giving her a bath, bedtime drink, brushing teeth, getting her pyjamas on, tucking her in... and of course, being Lola it's not quite that straightforward. If I'm honest, while my lips are pursing and my bosom is heaving at such wantonly irresponsible parenting, part of me wishes I could sack off the bedtime routine so effectively...

Charlie and Lola's from the pen of Lauren Child, and even if you don't know Lauren Child's name you'll know her style. It's that collage-cut-out-effect, with the words all wibbly wobbly, different fonts and sizes. Which I would attempt to emulate but Blogger makes all that too much like hard work. Lauren Child does capture the spirit of the 4/5 year old girl very well though. In fact, I am thinking of starting a campaign for a "Talk like Lola" day. If pirates can have their own "Talk like a pirate" day, why not? It would absolutely and completely be a very fun and goodish sort of day.

For this money-box, we were aiming at a Charlie and Lola-ish decorative effect. So I cut out a selection of C&L pictures from our magazine stash, and let Toddlergirl get busy with the sticky. I picked a cocoa tub as the lid is fairly tight and so fulfils the key function of a money-box, namely being resealable. Also, the plastic lid was such that it yielded fairly easy to my knife.

Take:
1 cocoa tub (or similar)
Wrapping paper
Selection of pictures/stickers/decoration of your choice
Blue-tak, sellotape and glue-stick
Coins!

Stick some blue-tak under the lid of the cocoa tub, to cushion the impact as you use a sharp knife to cut a slot in said lid.
Wrap the tub in wrapping paper - leave some overhang at the top to fold down and secure inside for a neat edge.
Stick decoration on.
Let toddler put coins in.
Take coins out so toddler can put coins in again.
Repeat last two steps ad nauseum...

Igloo fit for a penguin

We're ploughing the retro furrow a little further today. Pingu, anyone?

This igloo is all Pingu's fault. What can I say about Pingu, other than it was great when I was small and it still seems to fascinate both of my two today. The lack of 'dialogue' focuses things more on the tone of the interation and reactions of the characters to convey what's going on. BabyBoy finds it hysterical when I talk in "penguinese", although it could be the faces that I pull whilst doing so. (You try doing a Pingu impression with a straight face.) I'm not sure that me speaking penguinese at him is developmentally helpful but then I have another blogpost drafting on the report that hit the news this week recommending that under 2s should have no TV at all, lest it impact their development.

So we watch Pingu, and I worry that I may be making a 'rod for my own back' as regards making stuff. I'm not Harry Chuffing Potter. "Can you make me an igloo please, mummy?" Toddlergirl asks expectantly. Um. Hold on a minute...

Yes, yes I can!

Take:

1 pudding-pot (this one was a Cherry Chocolate Sponge Pudding. They're new from Cadbury, but not that highly rated here. Too dry and not saucy enough, matron.)
1 piece cardboard
1 piece A4 white paper
2 tissues (mansize for preference)
Some PVA glue

Cut a doorway out of the pudding-pot, filing down sharp edges with a nail-file if you worry about such things. (My poor nail-file has seen comparatively little of my nails of late).
Take a strip of cardboard, and snip a frill in one end so that you can fold the frill up inside the pot for glueing and sticky-taping down. Like so:

Cut rectangles out of the white paper, cover igloo in PVA glue and let toddler stick the 'ice' on.
Meanwhile, dilute PVA glue 1:1 with water and soak 2 mansize tissues.
Squeeze out excess, then shape soggy tissues into a penguin shape. Leave to dry (overnight or longer, depending on how soggy it is/was).
When penguin is dry use a felt-tip pen to colour it in.

It would be altogether easier to make a penguin out of Playdoh or plasticine but the chances of that getting eaten round here is high. The tissue sets hard, so is a little more durable.

If you have more than half a brain you might want to think about scale when making the penguin - unlike me. Fortunately Toddlergirl doesn't mind that the penguin doesn't fit through the door...

Tangram

Perhaps it was watching Abney and Teal that had me reaching for the Bagpuss DVD, or perhaps it was the nostalgia trip brought on by finding out Floella's now in the House of Lords. But you can't go wrong with a bit of Bagpuss. (Unless, perhaps, you are that girl from university who always insisted that Bagpuss was orange and white. Yes, you, with your tartan trousers! Pay more attention!)

There are fewer episodes made than you might think, only 13 in total. The tangram creation was inspired by the Frog Princess episode, where pieces of broken enamel are brought back by Emily. (Is that an accurate stage of child development that I have to look forward to, or is Emily a budding Hoarder?)

The bit in the episode where the pieces dance and make a cat and a mouse who chase each other gave me the idea of introducing the kids to tangrams. They're very simple to make, although I would probably get marks deducted for not measuring mine out properly. I just used a straight edge and estimated.

Take:
A square of cardboard
Some felt-tips

Mark out the square as shown.

Cut out pieces.
Re-arrange pieces to make pictures.

BabyBoy actually quite liked playing with the bits, picking them up and examining them, while ToddlerGirl made lots and lots of different boats. Cheap, quick, and good fun!

Peso Penguin finger puppet

Toddlers are fickle things aren't they? You may remember how I was saying that pirates were the flavour of the month? Well, that was so September 2011. I mean, come on, we're in October now. October is all about the medics. If it's any indication of future career choice, then I'm all in favour... with the NHS looking in dire jeopardy, having a doctor in the family could be handy. (Do check out the 38 Degrees campaign to save the NHS!)

So, in a shocking bloodless coup, Kwazii's been relegated from pole-position and Peso Penguin is where it's at. I don't think I've a single limb that's gone un-bandaged in recent weeks. I'm a little concerned there's a touch of Munchausen by proxy going on, the way she's been inciting me to put my finger in her castanets (not a euphemism) and then shutting the b*ggers on my defenceless digit! "Does it hurt Mummy? Shall I bandage it?" Yes, and no. And no, I don't want to put my finger there again. Eejit that I was to do it the first time.

To make Peso, I stuck with my trusty hummus pot lid as the template for his head. Some of the process was replicated directly from the Kwazii finger puppet. The rest of the measurements are again estimated and adjusted in proportion to that. I don't know why he manages to come out looking a little sad, but I like to imagine it's professional sympathy for my multiple needle-pricks sustained during the creative process. This has not been a good week to be one of my fingers.

Take:
Some black felt
Smallish bit of white felt
Tiny bit of yellow felt
Some blue felt
Some stuffing (about an eggcup-full)
Cotton of appropriate colours
The all-important hummus pot lid

Draw round the hummus-pot lid on the black felt, and cut out a circle.
Use running stitch around the edge of the circle, draw together, stuff and then draw tighter. (Again, mine had a small gap in the centre where you can see the stuffing but it's not so far been a problem as it's hidden by the finger-tube.
Cut out a shape from white felt for Peso's face (sort of like the outline of a rounded capital B)
Cut out two black circles for eyes
Cut out a small yellow triangle for a beak
Stitch the eyes onto the white felt, using black thread around the edges, and then adding eye highlights in white thread.
Stitch the beak onto the white felt.
Stitch the white felt face onto the black head-ball.
Cut a rectangle out of the black felt, long enough to fit onto and around a finger.
Stitch rectangle into a tube, turn inside out and stitch top of tube to Peso head.
Cut out thin rectangle of white felt and stitch to front of tube, under Peso's face.
Cut a rectangle of blue felt. Stitch the top of the felt around the bottom of the Peso 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.
And we're done. Seeing as we have two Octonauts now, I may as well attempt Captain Barnacles in the near future...

Poc-Poc biscuits

I cannot wait for 5.50pm. It's love. The Adventures of Abney and Teal has cast its spell upon me, and I am smitten.

If Oliver Postgate (Clangers, Bagpuss etc) was still alive and making animation today, I'd like to think it would be something like Abney and Teal. They live on an island in the middle of a park in a city, exploring and having fun with their friends. There's no heavy-handed moralising, there's no conflict, it's just... lovely. It's that plus the soundtrack in particular, I think, that reminds me of Bagpuss, the way it is stripped down and simple, which in itself mirrors the idea of the characters all living in this oasis of calm, adrift from the rest of the world. It is innocent, joyful, and simply beautiful to watch.

It's from the same stable as Teletubbies and In the Night Garden, but has more of what we grown-ups would recognise as plot; perhaps due to its 10 minutes length as opposed to the half-hour or so that Teletubbies and ITNG have to hold tiny attentions. But there is something endearingly retro about it, and I find it so refreshing compared to the 'modern' animation styles of Numberjacks, Waybuloo, and the other wide-eyed, gawping, brashly coloured computer-generated characters that bombard us. Of course, I don't doubt for a minute that Abney and Teal isn't computer-generated, but it has the feel of an illustration brought to life.

It offers less for BabyBoy, but ToddlerGirl is also pretty smitten, and has taken to declaring "That was an adventure!", Teal-style, at various intervals. Picking tomatoes, is an adventure. And why not?

So we had a biscuit-making adventure. The Poc-Pocs appear to be made of wood, so to try and get the 'woodgrained' appearance, I marbled my biscuit dough with cocoa, although I did overwork the mix a bit, which is why it isn't as streaky as I would have liked. They taste nice, though!

Take:
2oz flour
1.5oz butter or marg
1.5oz sugar
A teaspoon of cocoa
Half a dozen raisins or so

Chuck the flour, butter and sugar into a bowl.
Give toddler a fork and stand back.
When toddler has finished 'mixing', give it a bigger mix until the mix turns into something resembling breadcrumbs. Keep mixing a bit more after that until it forms a dough. If it is being especially stubborn, add a couple of drops of milk.
Next, add cocoa, and mix just enough to streak the mixture.
Get toddler to help you roll out the mix to about a 4mm thickness.
Give toddler spoon to lick while you cut out Poc-Poc shapes with a sharp knife.
Cut raisins in half, and push into Poc-Pocs to make eyes.
Bake around 180 degrees Celsius, or Gas Mark 3, for about 10 minutes.

Space rocket

I am, or was, a self-confessed control freak. Then kids happened and blew all that out of the water. I like plans. I like things happening to plan.

In some respects, the toddler and I are alike in that. She likes plans, and doesn't always understand that plans can't happen because mummy's been a bit impetuous in suggesting going swimming without first checking that the pools have any public swimming sessions on a Saturday morning. Not that she respects my plans any the better for all that, with her outrageously ill-timed nappy requirements etc... I swear sometimes the pair of them gang up on me. ("In the doctors waiting room for 10 minutes? Can we both manage pooey-bums before Mummy's called in? I bet we can!")

Some days, I indulge myself in the delusion that I give off the impression of being a rational, cool, kind and patient person, who would never ever get stressed or shout, but maintaining that illusion in the face of, say, random and unreasonable dashes for freedom in the middle of Tesco is a challenge. It's a white-knuckle ride, this child-raising lark.

So, with escape artistry at one end of the spectrum, I am learning to take many things in my stride. Or even to side-step them altogether. Such things like arguing blue is orange, for instance. One person's inaccuracy is another person's interpretation: that's why this Hamsternaut rocket is blue. (We've watched so much Baby Jake I can't believe it was even an area of contention, but there it is.)

Relinquishing control is liberating in some ways, except when your fingers look like you've been doing unpleasant things to a Smurf afterwards. Crayola Washable Paints may be washable, but they take a heck of a lot of scrubbing to remove from skin... Please guys, can you work on that formula? My baby looks like an extra from Braveheart.

Anyway, the rocket, right?

Take:
1 squash bottle
Some card
Some foil
Some masking tape
Some clear plastic (optional)
Some paper
Some flame-coloured tissue paper

(These are the precise measurements I know you're coming to expect from me...)

Start by cutting out 3 fins for the rocket. I cut them in the sort of 'fat scythe' shape, with a tab at the end for glueing to the body. To make attaching it easier, I cut the tab halfway down so that the top half can fold left and attach and the bottom half can fold right. I used glue and sellotape to attach it.

Next, cover the rocket in papier mache. I used newspaper for a couple of layers, let it dry, and then did a final layer of plain white for better paint coverage.

Then, paint rocket the colour of your choice!

I made portholes by cutting rings out of card and covering them in foil. I then drew hamsters on plain paper, and stuck clear plastic over the top. I then glued the foil ring over the top of the plastic.

Next, stick portholes onto rocket.

Add detail of metal panels and bolts in felt tip pen.

Cover base of rocket with foil.

Colour masking tape in with felt tip and wrap around base of rocket to secure fiol in place. Wrap small bits around fin-tips for extra detail.

Add tissue paper flames.

Hang from cotton, attach to ceiling!

I also made some stars and a moon out of card, and covered those in foil before threading them onto some cotton and attaching to the ceiling around the rocket. Everybody's starry-eyed! (Any excuse for a gratuitous link to a song...)

Mr Tumble Sandwich

You know how they say "if at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again"? And you know how they also say the definition of madness is "repeating the same actions and expecting different outcomes"? I'm not sure which camp feeding toddlers falls into.

Perhaps I should subtitle this "The continuing quest to get ToddlerGirl to eat tomatoes"? Not that I force them at her at every opportunity or anything, but I keep offering them with no pressure to eat, to see if she eventually decides that she likes them again. She'll thank me when she's old enough to know about lycopenes and stuff. Maybe.

So tomato ladybirds failed, and Mr Tumble sandwich... Well, it failed in the tomato stakes, though the rest was eaten happily. BabyBoy was more than happy to find a home for the unwanted fruit-masquerading-as-veg.

To recreate your own Tumble-tastic open sarnie, take:

1 slice bread
Some cheese spread
1 sliced olive
6 raisins
Some grated carrot
1 cherry tomato
1 normal tomato

Spread the bread with the cheese spread.
Add two olive slices as eyes.
Chop the cherry tomato in half, and use 1 half as the nose
Chop the normal tomato into four (half and half again), and use one wedge as a smiley mouth.
Add raisin freckles/spots on cheeks.

The likeness is uncanny, no?

No...?

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!