This afternoon I went to visit a neighbour and take her a gift. It’s something I’ve meant to do for a while, but the results of the referendum and reading about some of the disgusting racist behaviour since prompted me to pop across the road and see her. The gift was to say ‘thank you’ for some baby clothes she gave us for our new baby. I’m not sure she recognised that though, because she doesn’t speak English. And my Urdu is non existent. But I wanted to try and show our appreciation for her kind gesture, and show that the small minded morons in Britain telling non-British people to ‘go home’ are not speaking for everyone. The last few days I’ve been horrified at the thought that our neighbours, and friends, and family, might be thinking they aren’t welcome in the UK anymore. Last Christmas my neighbour and her family gave us a card and box of chocolates, even though they are Muslim, because we were new to the street and they wanted us to feel welcome. When I took biscuits over we were invited into their home for tea but I declined because it was Christmas Eve and we had to buy carrots for Rudolph (seriously). After our baby was born the lady came over to see him as we walked down the street. Conversation consisted of hand gestures and facial expressions, but she was clearly thrilled for us and wanted to wish us the best – first touching him gently on the head, and then patting my head too whilst cooing over the older one (who of course was asking ‘who’s that lady? What’s she doing?’) I don’t even know her name, and she doesn’t know mine or my baby’s, but she was thoughtful and kind enough to go out that day and buy him a ‘welcome to the world’ gift. It makes me very sad to think that nice people like my neighbour are being abused and told to leave the place they’ve made their home now. We should be sharing tea and biscuits, not insults and offensive notes.
I was changing the baby with the ‘help’ of the older one. He started laughing when I took the baby’s nappy off and said ‘Look at his little willy!’ (Toddlers don’t give a crap about giving someone else a complex do they?) I pointed out that it was little because the baby was so little, but my son was already dropping his trousers and pants to check out his own willy and compare the size with baby’s.
Men start young don’t they?
Tomorrow is my 3 year old sons’ sports day at school. I’ve asked what they will be doing but he’s not been very helpful; ‘Sack race?’ Blank stare. ‘Three legged race?’ Blank stare. And so on and so on. He also told me it had already taken place, and then we found out it was a practice. Little shit.
Anyway, this morning I gave him the parental pep talk. The one about it not mattering whether he wins, as long as he tries his best and has fun. I felt we had to have this talk as he was boasting about winning, but is the youngest in the year so I fear this is unlikely. Unless they had a Power Rangers style fighting bout, in which case he’d kick ass.
After the pep talk he gave me the blank stare. He knew I didn’t mean it. We race at everything – getting dressed, eating, going upstairs, putting toys away. I channel his competitive edge to get him to cooperate! And its something he’s inherited from me. I’ve always been incredibly competitive and a terrible loser, perhaps because I was the oldest child, or the youngest in the year myself, or because I’m a Leo. Winning feels good, doesn’t it? Succeeding and reaching your goal? So yes, I’ll keep telling my son to have fun and that winning doesn’t matter – but I’ll always encourage him to try.
Apparently it’s been 50 days since my last post. There’s been lots going on to write about but I haven’t had time or the mental capacity to do so. First I finished work at the end of March to look after our three year old over Easter – he stole all my time. Then I had a second baby at the end of April. The two of them have conspired to take what was left of me, and my time.