A monkey nativity

Today my baby boy, just turned three, played the part of Joseph in his pre-school nativity. Prior to his performance, my Mum took us all put to our local pub for lunch and he ate half his bodyweight in chocolate ice-cream. We were all treading round him on eggshells today, keen not to upset him or over-tire him so that he would be on good form.

He was all willing to dress up as Joseph and then when the pre-school leader, affectionately known as ‘Auntie Carol’, took him down to the stage were all his other ‘tiny friends’ were, he freaked out. So I followed him down the aisle to the stage and tucked myself behind his little chair to calm him down (and swapped his toy sheep that went with his Shepherd’s outfit, for his comforter toy ‘Monkey’). Throughout the performance he sat patiently next to Mary and calmed down enough that I could leave his side.   He said all four lines with a little help and was happy to stand in front of everyone o say them (while clutching monkey).

When it was time for him to walk with Mary down the aisle, he was happy to hold her hand and walk through the audience (while Auntie Carol held monkey). But later on in the play when they were all singing he just suddenly started to cry, so I hopped up and sat with him again, but as I sat down I knocked the Joseph and Mary pictures on the wall off, so had to keep putting them back up.

Afterwards there were pictures, and baby boy was still intermittently crying, which didn’t help with the publicity photos, but when it was all over and he had the freedom to play with his girlfriend Sam, he was grinning from ear to ear and we all breathed a sigh of relief that he hadnt been mentally scarred by the experience and had managed to keep the show on the road.

Our 3 year old did good.

This blog is for Unicef, thanks for reading.

Surprise vacancies

Every now and then I decide to have complete memory failure over my previous baking and cooking attempts and embark on a new chapter in my home-baking career.

These attempts are normally assisted by Tana Ramsay whose book on family cooking seems to understand the need for Mums to freeze things and prepare stuff in advance to reduce cooking time.

She also understands that every once in a while us Mums need me time, and highlights the benefits of kneading dough, to exorcise the frustrations of life and build up a bit of upper arm strength at the same time.

So, I decided to make my own dough and I was surprised how satisfying a process it was to create a dough and the bake it into ‘danish pastry pizzas’. It was particularly surprising to find that they were edible.

Today had a couple of other surprises in store….

I had the chance to go riding this morning (I dont have the money to own a horse I hasten to add, I just bum free rides when owners need their gee gees exercised…..in the boom time I used to get paid for it).

I encountered a ‘bridleway closed’ sign. It wasnt on a big red road sign but there was a diversion (smack bang in the middle of nowhere). I followed the diversion and came across a muddy bit which we ploughed on through until my horse’s rear legs appeared to give way. He had been sucked into a vat of clay. He is 17.2hh so for him to slip like that is highly unusual. By the time he recovered we had clay everywhere even up on his cheek and by his ear.

I later went to collect my baby boy from pre-school and discovered that at the tender age of 3 he had been chosen to play Joseph in the nativity (mainly because he is like a parrot and will repeat everything you say – none of the other boys in the pre-school were that interested in saying the lines). So he now has his first script to learn. My daughter was Mary when she was at the pre-school,so she is thrilled that he is following in her footsteps.

When we picked her up from school and told her, she immediately launched into rehearsals and asked baby boy to repeat ‘Is there any room at the Inn?’

He said…..’no’

Think perhaps he should be the innkeeper.

This blog is for Unicef.

Thanks for reading.