Excuse me from the table

W. George has started to say 'Excuse me from the table', when he has finished his global distribution of food throwing and general mess generation that is dinner time. I feel a bit sad about it. Not so much that he is programmed to say this - I am the master programmer after all and I've been brainwashing this particular piece of manners into him for years - rather I am a bit sad because he used to say 'Nu- mee from the table' instead.

It was really cute and always made me melt.

The fact that he can say it properly now makes me think he's on a slippery slope of growing upness that is only going to end in tears at the school gate ( from me), total embarassment (of me) and grunting (at me) to become the only form of communication for all the ages ending in -teen.

Oh, if only we his parents could always be the centre of his universe, copied and admired, everything we say, do, act, all faithfully imprinted in his sponge brains, stored and influencing his every decision.

Then again, I don't need a 45 year old son having to suck his thumb and hold onto my ear everytime he needs to recover from his 43 year old brother wrecking his train track.

Nature I guess knows what she's doing , our babies will walk, they will learn to speak properly, they will develop their own lives away from us, and they will one day move out and pretend their mother never taught them how to clean a kitchen bench. I'll feel a bit sad at each stage, I guess. But nature knows best - she is after all a mother too.


SAVING THE PLANET today one decision to bike to town (rather than drive) at a time.

HOORAY FOR bike trailers for children ! We love ours, thanks Trademe.

NU- mee from the blog....