Ornj fokshesh

One of the first things that happened when R and I arrived in Cardiff today was that B presented me with The Gruffalo and asked to have it read to him. In truth he doesn't have the patience yet for stories (in contrast with his mother, who at exactly the same life stage had listened to Mog's Christmas so many times that she could "read" it - in other words, recite it phonetically - all by herself), but we managed half a dozen pages before he slid down from my knee and went off to do something more interestingly physical. I was especially impressed when he told me that Mouse's first encounter was with an "ornj foksh", and later in the day I pointed out to him that his new hat also has orange foxes on it. "Nooo!" said R, who'd sneaked the hat on him while he was thinking about something else, as B promptly removed it to check if I was telling the truth, and then declined to have it on again. Luckily, once we reached the park and he came out of the pram for a run around, he realised that it was colder than he was quite comfortable with, and accepted the hat being returned to his head. Though not, as you can see, having his anorak zipped up - that would apparently have been a step too far.

(By the way, if this photo makes you think of Start-Rite shoe adverts.... then you're probably as old as me. It would, of course, be gross exploitation of the Boy Wonder to try to sell his photo for advertising purposes, and I wouldn't dream of it for a second. Particularly as Start-Rite don't use that image any more. Plus, it was a girl child who wore this kind of hat. And also - possibly the clincher - these are Clarks' shoes. But no - I didn't give the matter even the tiniest consideration. Obviously.)

Shortly after I took this B achieved a long-held ambition, when I allowed him to explore the bandstand in the park. This has a low fence around it with access gates (fascinating), and steps up to the platform, with railings that a Boy can hold onto to help him climb up and down (excellent), so the whole experience was highly satisfactory. But as the two of us were descending, R, who was standing just outside the gates, pointed out a large gob of bird poo, that had been deposited on one of the steps during our absence. "Don't walk there," I said to B, "that's bird poo, and I don't want you to get it on your shoes." He looked at me as though I'd lost my mind, so I carefully repeated what I'd said, while pointing to the offending patch. B considered this, frowning, and eventually said, "Birdy...?" "Yes, I said." "Birdy. That's birdy poo." The frown deepened. "Birdy poo...?" "Yes." He pointed upwards, where a flock of crows were flying back and forth, bickering. "Tha' birdy?" "Well, yes, it might have been one of those. Anyway, a birdy has done a poo here, and birdy poo is horrid and germy, and we don't touch it." B gazed at me with huge blue eyes, blandly innocent, and - while maintaining eye contact - delicately stretched out an exploratory toe. "NO!!" I said. "NOT in the bird poo." He looked as offended as it's humanly possible for an unfairly chastised Boy to be, said "Birdy poo" in a tone of deep disapproval, and carefully stepped down past it. When we reached the bottom of the steps, I turned to discover that R had enjoyed this encounter considerably more than I had - so he's only got himself to blame if I post the evidence of that as tonight's extra.

A few minutes later, after B and I had walked all around the enclosing fence a couple of times, I noticed that his nose was running, and fished a handkerchief out of my pocket. Because he regards the handkerchief pounce as unpardonable assault, I said to him, "If I give you my hankie, will you wipe your nose?" Blandly innocent again - which by now should have put me on alert - he held out a hand and accepted the handkerchief... then said "Clean birdy poo!" and trotted off rapidly in the direction of the steps. "Nooo!" I said. "Not with my hankie, you don't!" I managed to reach him and deflect his trajectory before he got to the poo, whisked the hankie out of his grasp, and wiped his nose for good measure - knowing that I was in trouble already, I thought I might as well go for broke. Despite the advent of the Terrible Twos though, he's a Boy who'd rather be cheerful than otherwise, so after a small token strop he forgave me, and the rest of the afternoon passed very happily.