Father’s Day fun: Playing through the puking
What did Sonny Jim get his dada for Father’s Day? Norovirus. That’s what.
After having spent two nights puking, the little pickle (now thankfully on the mend) thought it only fair to share with his daddy – and me!
So, it hasn’t quite been the Father’s Day I wanted for Gary, though it’s probably not one he’ll forget and am sure he will remind Sonny Jim of when he’s bigger.
But anyway. Here’s what I wrote before projectile vomit hit my little family. And it’s even more true now. There’s nothing that will make you feel more like a daddy than cleaning sick off the cot. And the sofa. And the floor. While your puke-covered missus gives your child his third bath of the night. It’s not glam. It’s not fun. But it is love. Continue reading
Sonny on his yoga mat
The first Baby Bumpkin class I attended (at Leigh Community Centre) worked a kind of magic.
That night Sonny slept from midnight to 6.30am. In his crib. And woke up smiling. It may be a coincidence, but I don’t think so.
Tatty Bumpkin classes use fun, yoga-inspired stories to encourage movement and enhance development in babies and children 6 weeks to 7-years-old. (Baby Bumpkin classes are for babies 0-2 years and Tatty Bumpkin 2-7 years.)
The sessions focus on the well-being of both child and parent. And all the wiggling, colours and playing sure knackers out the little folk! Continue reading
Those reporters seem to be getting younger all the time…
Me and the husband first met in the newsroom. The year was 2003. He was a chief reporter at the Echo newspaper and I was a first year uni student there on work experience.
It was another three years until we started dating. By then I had graduated and was a reporter at News of the World and he was steadily working his way up the rungs in Essex.
Years passed. We married. And eventually we ended up both working in the Echo newsroom again.