Archives for the month of: November, 2013

Little Pig 3.
Costume made in 17 minutes flat after breakfast for ‘Story Character’ fancy dress day at school.
Little Pig 3 is the sensible one that built his house out of bricks.

My money is back on Prole1 to look after me when I am old.

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Prole2 finally got seen by a heart specialist today.

Prole1 was up for an appointment. I have taken Prole2 along to Prole1’s last two meetings with the doctor.

It had been a long wait and when we got Prole1 in the Cardiologist asked why Prole2 had not been seen with Prole1 in the past.

I said i did not know and he asked if Prole2 had been in the room whilst all the other tests had been done. I said yes.
The Cardiologist leafed through the notes and asked if they had the same mother.

When I said yes he stopped leafing and just sat there for a minute staring at the desk and finally said “Well, I’ve come all the way down from Bristol for this session today, I may as well see another one”

We went back in and plugged Prole2 up.

When he handed the Prole’s notes to the nurses he said

“I saw the brother as well, you will need to fill in all the forms for this, they have not been done before. They will be seen together next time. TOGETHER next time.” and swept off.

I was a bit scared and a little thrilled.

Prole2 was very good at being hooked up to the machines.

I asked him what he wanted for a treat afterwards and he said

“MACDONALDS!”

Which serves me right for losing concentration as a parent and getting myself into checkmate. I have to keep my promises you see?

Never make a promise you can’t keep.
We have to drive past it on the way home and being a hopeless liberal modern parent I find it hard to say “I forbid you from ever setting foot in that awful place”.

It is awful.

Even if you like it you have to agree it’s awful.

You do don’t you?

Like you know smoking is awful and killing you, really killing you from the inside but you do it anyway.

Really awful.

Awful like Eastenders awful.

Awful.

The irony of taking the Proles to a burger restaurant as a treat for a successful ECG and scan exploration of potential heart conditions was not lost on me.

We went in and I talked through the menu and the options with the Proles.

Prole2 who was in a state of rapture and had to go to the loo twice, had a cheese burger happy meal, a toy shaped like some steampunk goggles, a big pink milk shake and a big silver balloon that he got off the manager.

Prole1, vegetarian by choice, had some fries.

I told Prole1’s teacher the Proles had brought is grandfather’s flag to show her, the one he had waved at the Coronation.
She asked if I could stay and talk to the kids about it but i had to go to work so she asked if their grandfather could come in to talk about it.
I said that was not possible.
She asked if he had died.
There was a split second silent moment. Death is something that we have discussed before, mostly on the occasion of me coming in because Prole1 was ‘upset’ but when I arrived I found the teacher and a TA in tears and Prole1 doing some colouring in. He never mentioned it again but me, the teacher and the TA all shared a bit of a moment.

She looked a bit panicky so I tried to put her at her ease.
I said no, he had not died and she asked if she had mis-understood and was he ‘away with the fairies’.

Me: Away with the fairies?
Nice Teacher: Yes, I meant doo-lally. Sorry.

We were clearly skating big strides across the thin social ice of playground conversation.
She did look a bit worried at where the conversation was going and I like her a lot.

Me: I think he is in Bradford upon Avon but as far as I can make out it’s the same sort of thing.

She giggled until she cried.

The Proles took the flag round all the classrooms to show the kids and waved it during assembly.
Proles1 and 2 had their Photos taken holding it and we got their picture in the school newsletter.
Prole1 said three of the teachers called him a ‘legend’.

Me: What did they say about Prole2?

Prole1: Nothing really.

Prole2; No. Nothing. I burped today.

Me: I love you both very much.

Me and the Proles went to the Pasty Festival AND the Gorsedh in one day. 

By the end I was a bit overloaded if I am honest.

Mind you, I am soft like that, if I even THINK about ‘The Song Of Western Men’ I start sobbing.

I have to pace myself on Helston Flora day and avoid close harmony singing until after lunch, 

 

Prole1 left with an armful of Cornish Language and Cornish History material and is hoping the new Academy status of his school will allow for more Cornish Culture to enter the curriculum. He now answers the teacher in Cornish whenever the register is called.

 

Prole2 ate a standard steak pasty all to himself and had to lie down for half an hour.

He is a sucker for a quality bakery product but a standard Philps Pasty is a thing to be respected.
Being less than six years old, I admired his pluck in a small man vs food kind of way but he sort of collapsed sideways during the harp playing at the Gorsedh and I had to carry him back to the car. Sometimes winning comes at a cost.
He is fine now of course but i am rationing him to cocktail steak pasties from Rowes.

 

 

Social media thank you message following the Proles joint birthday party:

“Thank you to everyone who were able to be at the party.
Some of you travelled a long way and I really appreciate it. To all of you who work to make that day happen each year, I could not do it alone so thank you very much.

Must apologise to all the parents who did not want their children to play the game where I slid cuddly toy monkeys down a tube which had to be hit with a bat by a small child.
Because of the simian nature of the targets I could not call it ‘splat the rat’ but it was not my intention to be offensive. 
I may have inadvertently referred to the game as ‘spank the monkey’ as a throw away remark to Prole2 but had no idea the Birthday boys would lead all the guests in a group chant every time someone took up the bat.

This seemed to cause some offence amongst some of the parents.

I can only apologise to everyone involved.

I have since disposed of the monkeys and will be taking the Proles bowling next year.”

The Proles had a school fun run today for which they printed their own ‘fun’ Tshirts.

Small stickers were placed in patterns across the t shirt and wash proof paint was sponged on. When the paint was dry the stickers were peeled off.

Prole2 made a jumbled design of squares and circles which he said were Angry Birds fighting Pigs.

Prole1 spelled  NHS on his as he believes the NHS helps cure cancer and is worth saving.

Fun, fun, fun.

I used to think Prole1 had a future in Politics but sadly the Redruth Chapter of the Bullingdon Club had to close recently due to a spending review, up until then I was quietly confident of at least a junior minister’s post coming up for him at some point.

As to the “Fun Run”, you may be surprised to know that Prole1 does not exactly excel at track and field and Prole2 was too busy holding hands with his running buddy to reach full speed.
I saw him trying to not take a step unless he could get from one daisy to another.

‘Fun’ run or no fun run it’s hard to watch that when the three men you are standing with are all part of Cornwall’s Constabulary and their various offspring have hared past to the bullish cries of their fathers.
I am not a sporty dad but I am not immune to social conditioning.
It is important to remember at these moments that there are no ‘winners’ in a fun run, just some kids that come at the front because they are fast, were in the lead and running in the right direction and other kids, like your two sons puffing past holding hands and skipping from flower to flower whilst making an overt political statement through the medium of customised sportswear.

As long as we have the NHS though I think we are all winners.

Prole1: Hi Dad.

Me: Hello.

Prole1: What are you doing?

Me: I am doing the ironing.

Prole1: What is that?

Me: This? It’s an ironing board.

Prole1: Weird.

Prole2: Hello Dad, what’s that?

Prole1: Its a filing board.

Prole2: Oh.

Prole1. Weird.

Prole2. Yeh.

Prole1: Where’s the sink?


Prole2: In the garden, Dad broke it.


Long silence as they both press noses against bathroom window.


Prole2: The cats are playing with it.


Laughter.

Prole1: Look….look…playing with the plug.

Laughter

Prole 2: Do we still get pocket money?


Prole1: Don’t worry, HE did it.

Prole2 just blocked the toilet.

 

I don’t mean to brag but it’s a talent he has had since he was 3. I have never actually taken a photo but it can be really impressive on a week heavy in fatty complex carbohydrates.

This one was a MONSTER.

 

I usually (thankfully) miss these freaks of nature but Prole2 had been behaving oddly for about quarter of an hour before it finally sunk in with me that something was up.

He is still a bit afraid of the sound of the flush so he was upstairs flushing the toilet, running onto the landing with his fingers in his ears, waiting on the church pew for the cistern to fill, flushing the toilet, running onto the landing with his fingers in his ears, waiting on the church pew for the cistern to fill…and so on.

He seemed quite content to continue so I’m not sure what would have happened if I had not gone in with the brush.

 

Yes. I have a church pew on the landing.

 

 

I sent Prole2 upstairs to get Prole1 for dinner.

Loud thumping up the stairs from Prole2
Slight pause.
Distant sound of Prole2 screaming Prole1’s name disproportionately loudly.
This seems to go on for a long time.

Prole2 returns alone with lego car and red sequined cowboy hat on head.

Prole2: He’s dead. Yum Yum, sausages.

Prole2 sits down to dinner and begins to eat enthusiastically.

I go upstairs.

Prole1 is flat out on the bed. Prole1 sleeps on the top bunk. He certainly does look dead.

Me: Oi.

Prole1 does not move but his eyes flick open

Prole1: Yep?

Me: You ok?

Prole1: Bit fast. I think ok. Dogs and stuff.

Me: What?

Prole1: Can you get off me?

Me: I am not on you.

Prole1(sitting up): Wow it’s all funny. Funny looking. What lights are they?

Me: Put your glasses on?

Prole1 (staring at the ceiling): Oh yes, yes……that’s right. Yes.

He seems perfectly happy to stare at the artex.
He smiles broadly then slowly scowls.
I put his glasses over his nose. They are crooked.

Me: Can you straighten them up?

Slight pause.

Prole1: Yes I can.

Slight pause.

Me: Go on then.

Prole 1 slaps himself squarely in the face with his open palm.
Despite walloping himself quite hard he is still looking at the ceiling, he slowly turns to me.

Me: Can you remember your name?

Prole1: Yes.

Me: What is it?

Prole1: Pavement.

Me: Are you still asleep?

Prole1: Yes.

Me: Can you wake up please?

Prole1: Yes.

Slight pause.

Prole1: Hello Dad, you alright?

Me: I am fine, it’s dinner time, let’s tell you brother you are alive.

Prole1(as if nothing had happened): Ok.