Oystercatching

[radegund]

1. Camera phone.
Oisín is a much-photographed child. This week, he decided that his toy mobile phone now has a camera. He holds it up to his eye, takes a picture of you, then shows you the picture in the "screen". Which is a mirror, so that works rather well.

2. Cheesy face.
If you take a thin slice of cheddar, such as is often served to you as a pre-prandial appetiser, and press it to your cheek, you'll find it sticks quite well. You may also find that this action reduces your parents to a state of helpless mirth. If you're really lucky, your mother will start to sing "Unny has a cheesy face, doo-dah, doo-dah...", which will develop into a game as you press the cheese to various parts of your visage ("Unny has a cheesy cheek", "Unny has a cheesy nose", "Unny has a cheesy chin", etc.) This comes under the headings "Not Properly Brought Up", "I Blame The Parents", and similar.

3. Pregnancy.
Oisín is pregnant. He is very insistent on this point. It's all down to ailbhe, of course, who has a new baby in her tummy (ALTHOUGH NOT FOR MUCH LONGER, EEEEEEEEEEE!). Ailbhe and her family are inordinately fascinating, and conversations about them always involve talk of the new baby. "Ailbhe new baby tummy," says the Oyster, and then, "Unny new baby tummy." The first time, I said I didn't think so, but I won't be doing that again as it precipitated a storm of tears. It'll be interesting to see whether Unny will remain pregnant after Ailbhe's baby is born.

4. Scale.
Gravely, at breakfast, after a lengthy and solemn scrutiny: "Unny ninni [little]. Mama big."

5. My son the copy-editor!
We are captivated at the moment by a great work of literature entitled Baby Bill and Little Lill. At the end of the book - SPOILER! SPOILER! - Baby Bill's bucket gets washed back to shore at night by the tide: "In came the waves. In came the bucket." Little Lill, in the printed version, says, "Thank you, Moon." But CLEARLY, this is illogical (that is, if you're unaware of the moon's influence on the ocean), so in Oisín's version she now says, "Thank you, water." I'm very proud.

6. Sympathy.
I've been slightly ill for the last five days, and Oisín has been most solicitous. "Mama sick," he says, and trots towards me, exclaiming, "Hug! Hug! Kiss!" His hugs and kisses are magic, and make me feel instantly better. [Note for those whose antennae twitch at such passing mentions - and don't worry: I include myself among your number - no, I'm not pregnant. Yes, I'm sure :-) ]

7. Sympathy for fictional characters.
Which reminds me! I don't think I ever mentioned the time he went and got his muslin for the picture of the Sleeping Beauty in the fairy tale book that pleidhce gave him. That was months ago. This week, he's been kissing poor Hamish the cat in The Lighthouse Keeper's Lunch, who is miaowing pitifully and looking very sorry for himself having failed to foil the scavenging seagulls. (He also spent a portion of dinnertime this evening saying "Lackaday, lackaday," like Mr Grinling on the same page, which was very amusing.)

8. Monster.
And that reminds me of another Ancient History bit, which I never wrote down. Some time in January, Oisín learned the word "monster", in connection with a green furry book about a hungry monster. A few weeks later, he pointed at a TV ad featuring a monster of an entirely different shape, and said "monster". He later identified the Beast in the abovementioned fairy tale book as "monster". I would seriously love to know how he apprehended such a complex and abstract semantic category (without, I might add, any prompting whatsoever).

9. Genderbending.
Some days, "Unny girl" - to the extent that he corrects me if I forget and say "good boy" later on. I have a small suspicion that he may not be quite so insistent with people other than his parents - I must ask his grandparents.

10. Jumping.
He has taught himself to jump. Just got the hang of it in the last week or so.

11. Speaking of jumping...
We learnt a song at Tigglers Togglers when we were visiting Reading in May: "Jumping up and down on the big [colour] tractor {x3}, Bringing in the hay". Child gets to nominate colour for next verse. Wildly popular with yon Oyster. But instead of sticking with the programme like a good child and switching only the colours, Oisín started calling different kinds of vehicle. So, as "jumping up and down on the big [purple] [tram]" doesn't necessarily have much to do with bringing in hay, we substituted "ear-lie in the morning". Scale became the next variable, with "little" and "tiny" being added as possible alternatives to "big". Then one day, he asked me to add a cat into the mix. The song now frequently runs "A cat jumping up on the [big] [pink] [lorry], Ear-lie in the morning". (Which is a passable haiku, it occurs to me...) Is this the oral tradition in action?

12. Chain bridge.
Aside from the jumping, there seems to have been a sharp improvement in Oisín's gross motor skills recently. At the park today, he confidently crossed the wobbly chain bridge, which I hadn't seen him do before. (He learnt it with Niall the other day.) He put the heart across me the first time he went for it, and I hung on to him very tightly. But he was absolutely surefooted, and I relaxed (a bit) after a few more crossings.

Comments

[jane-the-23rd.livejournal.com]

OMG, Unny is pregnant! Excellent. What an absolutely lovely, lovely child.

[socmot.livejournal.com]

I would seriously love to know how he apprehended such a complex and abstract semantic category (without, I might add, any prompting whatsoever).

I know how - genius.

A very very sweet little boy.

[ainetl.livejournal.com]

i really enjoy the oisín updates. isn't it heart-warming to see sympathy in your child? i always think of nothing else, at least there is that, which imho is one of the most important things possible.