This week’s latest craze in Andrew’s interest is the moon. There have been a few nights recently when the moon was shining brightly and easily visible in a cloudless sky before his bedtime. When he’s had a bath and is helping tidy his toys away, he’s keen to look out the window and see if he can see it. And he gets very excited if he can: “Look Mummy, it’s the moon, look Daddy it’s the moon!” *does a little happy dance whilst shouting*. One evening, he told me, after the excited shouts and happy dance, that “we get the moon out at bedtime”. So cute I didn’t quite say that on previous evenings – more like “the moon comes out at bedtime” – but he’s not far off.
One evening this week I’d decided that we would have fajitas for tea. So when we popped into the shops on the way home from some errands, I told Andrew when he asked what I was putting in the basket that the sachet was fajita seasoning (I say fajita with a ‘ch’ sound similar to that in Scottish ‘loch’, not a ‘dj’ sound as in the anglicised version – this is important later…) That teatime, as Andrew was helping me cook as usual, he asked me if we were going to use the “heater seasoning” (said with a ‘ch’ sound at the start). Yes sous chef, that’s right, we need to add it after frying the veg off for a little while.
There are many buskers in Cambridge city centre, and, as Daddy the musician often points out, they are generally of a pretty high calibre. When we were sat listening to one the other day because we were a little early for our group to start, Andrew pointed out that: “he’s got no talker!” After quizzing him a little on what a talker is, it became clear that he meant “microphone”! A pretty good description though, very logical.
He’s very good at letting me know when I’ve made a mistake (or so he thinks) these days. We were reading a farm book one afternoon, and as he pointed to the picture of a small pig, I read out the word that was written below it: piglet. But apparently I was wrong: “No mummy, that’s not piglet, that’s just a pig… piglet’s on Winnie [the] Pooh!” I sat corrected.
And finally, the story alluded to in the title of this post… We don’t use the car that much in Cambridge, but yesterday we had quite a few places to go including picking up some boxes to pack for our house move. Bear in mind that in Cambridge, you’re lucky if you get into third gear with all the traffic and junctions. As we drove round the ring road, probably the fastest I’d got to all afternoon – about 26 miles per hour – Andrew hailed from the back seat: “This car’s going too fast!! Slow down Mummy, slow down!!” I informed him that I was well within the speed limit and there were few cars on the road in front of me or anywhere near us at that point. Back seat drivers start at 2 and 3/4 years old it seems.