Toddler and I have been gardening. He likes pretty flowers. Although his enthusiasm usually is displayed by pulling the heads off of them and scattering the petals through the hall. And he likes watering. Although approximately half of the water from his watering can tends to end up on himself rather than the plants.

One day in spring, Toddler came home from nursery having planted sunflower seeds in a small pot. We watered them and three sprouted. So we planted them out in the garden. And then I figured I'd encourage this productive activity. So we planted strawberries. In hanging baskets to try and keep the slugs away. And sugar snap peas. Instead of the flowering sweet peas I've planted in past years. Since any flowers would only be destined to loose their heads and be scattered throughout the hall anyway.

We've watered and watched. The slugs have mostly kept away. There was a minor problem with caterpillars on the strawberries. But we moved the mini-beasts. And last week Toddler picked and ate home-grown strawberries. It's likely that the first pea harvest will occur this weekend. However, it would be fair to say that the sunflowers aren't doing so well.

One plant died due to gale-force winds and my failure to stake it properly. Another was lost in heavy rains. All hopes were pinned on the one surviving plant. About three foot high it held up its head and started to flower. And then lost all its leaves. I blamed the slugs. Although I was a little confused why they'd stripped the leaves but left the stem untouched. The next day I examined the struggling flower. A lone snail sat in its centre. So I blamed him for the damage and less-than-gently removed him from Toddler's precious flower.

And then yesterday I saw Eric.

Eric has been hanging around our garden for about a fortnight. He's watched me hang out washing. Basked in sunny patches of our patio where Toddler has thoughtfully emptied buckets of sand from his sandpit. And he's been chased round the garden by Toddler shouting. Until I suggested that that was perhaps unwise given the fact that Eric is about a foot tall, with mottled brown feathers, webbed feet and a seriously dangerous looking beak.

Not keen for the baby gull to stay, we haven't fed him. This, I now fear, was our mistake. Sitting in the lounge looking out of the window at the struggling sunflower I watched in horror as Eric peaked at the flower. Petals and seeds were destroyed.

Toddler walked to nursery today repeatedly telling me "I sad 'cos Eric eat my sunflower" and asking "Which flowers yours, mummy? Can I share your pretty pink flowers?". Almost heartbreaking. Until he found a slug to jump on. And Eric was forgotten about.

Yesterday we were talking about showers and baths and Toddler mentioned his friend Flower who likes to have showers instead of baths. Toddler was certain that the reason for this was because Flower didn't want to be eaten by the sharks. I tried to suggest that there weren't actually any sharks in her bath. Real or imaginary ones. But he wasn't having any of it. Sometimes Toddler is very clear about the difference between real and imaginary. Sometimes the divide gets a little blurred. Sometimes he's just being stubborn. On this occasion it was certainly the latter. I changed the topic of conversation...

Today we were having a wet walk through the park. Toddler had his boots on. He was splashing in puddles. I was trying to avoid the splashing. And trying to stop him falling in the stream that runs alongside the path we were taking. Toddler keenly explained to me that he wasn't going to fall in because the stream was where the fishes lived. And the sharks. I tried to explain that there were no sharks in the stream. That sharks live in the sea.

Then I quickly added that they were a long way away in the deep sea. For fear that we'd be repeating the whole 'there are sharks here' thing on our next trip to the beach. Sometimes it feels like I just can't win. Toddler logic rules.

One aspect of Toddler growing up is that now, and just two and a half years old, he has friends we don’t know. A couple of days a week he goes to a day nursery. Some days we pick him up and he mentions the names of some of the boys and girls he plays with. Mostly girls, actually. And some days when we pick him up we bump into other parents picking up their own sweet charges and get comments like “oh, so this is Toddler, Maisy is always talking about him, we wondered who he was”.

Yesterday Toddler got a party invite. Noah is going to be three. We don’t know how he is. But Toddler informs us “he my friend”. OK, time to pick up the phone and dial the phone number which we’re to RSVP to.
Mr Standard: “Hello. Errr, so you have a son called Noah?”
Woman: “Yes”
Mr Standard: “My son, Dave, has just been given an invite to Noah’s birthday party”
Woman: “From nursery?”
Mr Standard: “Yes, that’s right. I’m phoning to say Dave would love to come. I’m Howard, by the way. Who are you?”
Woman: “I’m Noah’s mum”.
Mr Standard: “Errr, yes. Do you have another name?”
Woman (laughing): “Yes, sorry! I’ve just been running around, you know how it is. I’m….”

Unfortunately for me, Slacker-Tech has, in theory, been drawing up my designs for the past two weeks. The work should have taken him approximately 3 days. The contractor needed the drawings last Friday. I gave my sketches to Slacker-Tech the week before last and then spent most of last week trying to press upon him the importance of getting them finished. Sometimes I think Slacker-Tech has selective hearing… or maybe it’s more ‘selective understanding’ given his ‘flexible' approach to his specified working hours and holiday allowance, and his strange ability to take off time-in-lieu without ever being in the office to do any extra work.

Of course, only half of the required drawings were done by Friday. I sent that half to the contractor with the promise that he’d have the rest at the start of this week. Yesterday the slightly-stressed-contractor phoned to ask where the remaining drawings were. I assured him he’d have them today.

I know things are getting bad when I spend most of the night waking up periodically having had dreams about Slacker-Tech and his lack of work. I told Mr Standard this morning that I’d had nightmares. But it turns out that actually they were prophetic dreams. This morning I get into the office to find a message from Slacker-Tech. He is ill, recons it’s ‘summer flu’ or something. Slacker-flu, more like… it’s another nice day in sunny South Wales, he’ll have gone out fishing for sure. I am not happy.

Just needed to share. Sorry.

Half an hour after tucking the kids in bed last night I heard the pitter-patter of not-so-tiny feet. Toddler was located standing by the sink, toothbrush and paste in hand.
“What are you doing?”
“I clean my teeth, or they fall out”
Rather than tell him off, we had to praise him for this action… after all, us naughty parents had forgotten to clean his teeth that evening, and it showed that he has a pretty good understanding of the whole brush-regularly-to-avoid-tooth-decay thing. However, we did try to explain he only needed to clean his teeth once at bedtime. And after his teeth had been appropriately scrubbed, he was returned to his bed and told to stay there.

So we were less impressed when about two hours later Toddler was discovered asleep in our bed hugging the toothbrush holder, complete with toothbrushes and paste. Toddler was lifted back into his bed. And the holder and contents were returned to their position next to the sink.

Of course, the story doesn’t end there. Further joys were to be found when I went to clean my own teeth at bedtime. Because it was at that point that I realised that all the toothbrushes were upside down in the holder. And Toddler had put paste, remarkably neatly, on the head of my brush!

Toddler is getting to the giving-up-his-lunchtime-nap stage. Sometimes he sleeps. Sometimes he doesn’t. Yesterday was a non-sleep day. Only on-duty-Daddy didn’t realise this. Toddler was taken upstairs and left in bed. Daddy went downstairs to get-on-with-things. A while later Daddy heard Toddler calling. And then he smelt the Marvellous Medicine.

We are responsible parents (so please don’t report us to social services!). Our medicine cupboard has child locks. Only they don’t appear to be very effective. Clever Toddler has worked out how to open them. And how to open packets. And tubes. And bottles.

The scene that met Daddy when he ventured upstairs was one of total carnage. Toddler had decided that the best place to use his new-found opening skills was on our bed. Plasters stick quite well to sheets. Antiseptic creams, toothpaste, etc. are great for smearing everywhere. And toothbrushes are particularly useful for helping mix Daddy’s pot of hair gel. But best of all is when you discover that, although most medicine bottles have child-proof tops, suncream and Mummy’s pregnancy-pampering oil are really quite easy to open and pour everywhere.

Nothing was consumed by Toddler. Daddy binned the empty packets and bottles. The sheets were washed (although they don’t appear to have recovered very well from the oil!). And I guess at the end of the day our cupboard has had a really good clear out. So it’s not all bad.

But today I’ll be buying a padlock and chain (for the cupboard, not Toddler!).
And maybe some more pampering oil.

My own son, I realised today, also has an ongoing obsession with imaginary beings. But they aren't friends. They are enemies. The Scary Monster often appears in our house and garden. I'm there quietly hanging out the washing or similar while Toddler plays and suddenly he'll shout to me "look mummy, there's a scary monster". Scary Monster doesn't actually ever do anything. So he's really not that scary. He's just there needing to be looked at at regular intervals.

The other regular visitor to our house is the Big Bad Wolf. He's a little more active. He knocks on the door wanting to come in and tries to blow our house down. He's never succeeded because, as Toddler says, "our house is bricks". But we have to keep an imaginary door closed to keep him out. And Toddler's pretty good at providing a whole long commentary about what the Big Bad Wolf is doing and what he said to him and what was said back:
Toddler (in middle of eating tea): Mummy, there's a Big Bad Wolf knocking at the door.
Mummy: Oh dear.
Toddler: Yes, he said "let me in" but I tell him "no". He want to blow our house down but he can't, I tell him "our house is bricks". Mummy don't open the door. Keep the door shut. He's knocking like this (demonstrates knocking on table). He want to come in and eat us, but I said "no, go away wolf". Mummy, don't open the door....
...and so it continued for most of the mealtime.

Although our house seems safe from the Big Bad Wolf, other homes and people are less safe. The other morning I was informed that the Big Bad Wolf was trying to blow Granny's house down. A few minutes later I was told that the Big Bad Wolf had blown Granny's house down, and having announced "he's a naughty wolf", Toddler wandered over to the corner of the room and says "Hello Builder. Can you come and build Granny's house? Can you make it in bricks?". I was wondering was Granny's house previously made of, but didn't have time to ask before Toddler informs me that the builder has finished.
Mummy: That's good. Are you going to pay the builder now?
Toddler: No. The Big Bad Wolf ate him.
Well, there you have it. My son has reoccurring imaginary enemies that eat the few imaginary friends he dreams up!

I arrived at work yesterday morning 5 minutes late. A gentleman’s tweed jacket was on the back of my chair and a briefcase was parked by my chair. Just as I was pondering the evidence, one of our site engineers appeared carrying the cup of tea he’d just made himself. He apologised, saying he thought I wasn’t in that day, and moved his stuff to another free desk.

Today I arrived (again 5 minutes late) to find someone’s laptop open on my desk and a rucksack dumped on the floor by my chair. Guessing that it must be the other, younger, site engineer that occasionally pops into the office to work, I wander down the single flight of stairs to the kitchen. He’s there making himself a cup of tea. Immediately he sees me he apologises and saying he thought I wasn’t working today, and he’ll move to another desk.

To be fair, I do officially work part-time. Although my bank and mortgage company inform me that they consider 30 hours a week full-time working. There is just one day a week I’m not in the office. And that day is always a Wednesday. Exactly half-way through the week. How hard can that be to remember? Too hard it seems for those that pop into the office occasionally and make me waste precious moments of my day as I try to re-claim my desk from them.

And then waste further time telling you all about it.

Saturday was fine. I got up at 6:30am, showered and had finished dressing before Toddler appeared from his room to tell me about the wolf that wanted to blow my house down.

Sunday wasn't quite so fine. I got up at 6:40am. No noise from the kid's room so I decided to go and shower downstairs. I get in the shower. A minute later the water pressure drops. I start to curse the house mate that must be using the upstairs shower at this unearthly hour. Seconds later the pressure returns. I figure that they must have just been washing their hands or something. Then it drops again. Then it returns. Then it drops. And returns again. I am confused. I shower with intermittent water pressure. When I come out of the bathroom I hear the cries from upstairs: “Mummy. Mum-eeeeee. Come upstairs mummy”. Toddler is awake. Toddler is standing at the gate at the top of the stairs. He grins when I appear. And holds up his arms: “Mummy. I wet.” Toddler has worked out how to turn taps on and off and on and off again.

Summary of Crawler’s 1st birthday on Friday: Birthday-girl squashes cheese spread sandwiches into the carpet and smears her face with chocolate cake. Guests discuss how Toddler has decided he wants a doll for his next birthday (Daddy not convinced about this). Birthday-girl decides best presents to play with are the musical birthday card and a helium-filled balloon.

Summary of Great-Granddad’s 90th birthday on Monday: Birthday-boy stirs whipped-cream from centre of meringues into cold tea and smears his face with chocolate cake. Guests discuss the pram/ pushchair they’re thinking of buying for expected baby (Sister, Sister-in-law \& myself are all currently pregnant). Birthday-boy decides best present is a helium-filled balloon.

So. There you have it: Life is fun.