Say dad first

Tbe snow’s still here! The children are back at school so no more yelling, colourful clothes, fun and exciting play and snowball fights, now it’s just cars sliding erratically out of our road and old ladies looking out of their windows. Stay indoors old ladies. In our close the ice is still an inch thick. It is beautiful though, when the sun shines in the morning the patchy bit of muddy grass where boys play football is transformed into a Monet.

It’s been a great chance for men to be men, digging out the paths and cars with spades. I spotted a strange looking man near the centre of sydnam, scrabbling the snow off his doorstep using an axe. Worrying.

We haven’t had a bin collection or postal delivery since last week but the meter readers have been round, so that says a lot. You can’t get to our wheelie bin without boots on so the kitchen is looking a bit 1979 with bin bags mounting up, also a bag of old nappies on the landing, and the compost is overflowing. The back garden is a bit of a no-go zone as when it snows the cats have a tendency to bury their crap in a bit of snow, making us reluctant to take the trip out to the big compost bin.

The sky is so blue I can’t wait for Rose to wake up so we can go for a yomp up the hill. I am thinking of doing an emergency run to the garden centre to get some wild bird seed. Apparently if you mix it with chilli it discourages the squirrels but the birds don’t mind it. I have already been out a couple of times wearing spikys – yesterday I lifted the buggy over the drifts and once we were out in the main road it was ok.

Jason is so hopeful that Rose is going to say daddy soon, it’s almost painful to see the look of wide-eyed excitement every time she babbles her consonants. She is coming out with new ones every day. She’s gone from blowing raspberries to saying da da da, ba ba, blah blah, boh, doh, gah, muh. So she is saying dad, dadda, abbadad, daa daa, and every possible variation. Thing is, how does she know we are mummy and daddy when we call each other by our real names? Jason is trying to teach her thusly: each time she says da, Jason puts his face next to hers and says ‘daddy! daddy!’ quite loud, pointing to himself. Then he points to me and says ‘mummy’ in a quiet voice, and adds quickly: ‘but say ‘daddy’ first’.

The family in the houses behind ours are still sitting round in their grundies despite the cold weather. They have a couple of bull terriers and when there are no people in the kitchen, the dogs lie luxuriously draped over the kitchen table. The are obviously not supposed to do this as when the dad comes in the dogs are nowhere to be seen.

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