Wee lead slippers

WANT THAT ONE!

His Andy impersonation's fantastic, don't you think?

On yer bike!

Young Bob's got out of his pram and taken to two wheels instead

Aye, a regular Lance Armstrong, with the cycling and pasta-munching. Though I don't think Lance takes his stuffed tiger on the road with him. But he does do his own pedalling, unlike our boy. Unfortunately for me, Bob's two wheels are firmly attached to my two wheels and he doesn't do any work at all. Between him and the trailer that's an extra three stone for me to haul around! As if I don't have enough extra weight to drag.

Mandy's taken to the cycling too and sports a fine melon-head helmet. Aye, those cycle paths can be awfully dangerous, especially the smooth empty tarmacadammed ones around the historic village of Culross here in the ancient kingdom of Fife. And you'll notice there's no wee boys hanging off the back of her bike! Still, there's a fine pub just off the cycle track where a nice pint can be enjoyed. That's what I like about cycling - get as drunk as you like and still cycle home! And environmentally friendly too.

Democracy: forward not back

Aye, it's a fine feeling to make your democratic voice heard, even if you can only say three words and aren't allowed to vote

Seeing as it's election day we thought we'd encourage a sense of civic pride and democratic participation in the wee boy by letting young Ewan join us in exercising our periodic right to take a small, blunt 2B pencil and, stretching its string to its fullest extent, make our big illiterate X beside the least worst candidate on the ballot paper. You could see the pride on his face. It's a hard-won privilege that the working masses have only enjoyed for only a few years but unfortunately Ewan wasn't allowed to use a pencil on a ballot paper or even to drop the folded paper into the box.

Life's a beach

Aye, first sign of the sun and yer man's on the beach poking the sand with a stick

And that's about it really. A drive to St Andrew's, a short walk, some one, two, three, weeeeeeeee! walking along holding me and M's hands and some splashing in the sea (in bright blue wellies). There's days when sandpits just aren't enough.

A prodigy!

Mandy's just back from the Parents' evening at Ewan's nursery. He got his first report card and it's enough to make any Dad's heart swell with pride.

Aye, he's got an 'A' in Playing With Sand, an 'A' in Not Falling Over Things Lying On The Floor and an 'A' in Being Cheerful. We're thinking we might need to get him a tutor in risk assessment cos then if he made good progress he could maybe get an NVQ in Sliding Down The Chute Without Scuffing Your Face On The Carpet.

But the nursery sorted out his developmental priorities so he's got a strategy with clear goals, performance indicators, an Action Plan and a mechanism to provide periodic review (keeping an eye on him) and feedback (a slap). One of his big goals will be Saying Words and another will be Running Without Falling Quite So Often.

It's a serious business this going to nursery. It might look like a lot of noise and larking about but it's not, it's heuristic play!

No news is broadband

Aye, bugger all to report

But we've got broadband so you just write a wee bit of rubbish and publish it to an audience of, err, maybe six instantly. Fabulous.

Anyway. Here's a thing. Bob was listening to PM on the radio this evening on the way home from nursery. He's a man of few words but what little he knows he uses regularly and often on a frequent basis all the time. So there he is chuntering away in the back. "Hiya!", "daddy!", "Mummy!" and just as Eddie Mair finishes interviewing Tony Blair about Iraq, the economy and the usual election stuff, he pipes up with "lying shitbag". Honest. He did. Still, who'd vote for Michael Howard. Racist &*^%.

Here's all his mates toasting their arses on the radiator after a wee spin in the washing machine. Check that monkey. How cool is he.

Broadband finally arrives

Yes, we've completely run out of excuses. Those kind people at British Telecommunications plc have finally got round to upgrading the Limekilns exchange so now the interweb is buzzing.

So there's nothing to stop me keeping the world constantly updated with the latest adventures. Well, EXcept FOR THe fact that Ev ery time I go near my computer i've GOT A wEE BOY switcHING THE capS lock on and off. He loves it. A wee light comes on. Doesn't bother with any other keys. Just Caps Lock.

How's the young man looking these days? Just lovely. He's doing his best to feed himself and sometimes he gets some of it into his mouth. Look closely and you can see that he hasn't got the hang of the spoon idea at all. Here he is in the kind of pose that some joker finds and shows at your 21st birthday party. Sorry.

What else do we get? Cheek that's what. Pure cheek, disguised as fun. Still, soon he'll be old enough to understand what a good leathering's for. Aye, revenge will be mine. Tell that to the social workers. You might get through if they haven't all buggered on a half day's flexi-leave. Not that they'd do anything anyway. Ha ha! Ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha .... (trails off into madness).

But the poor wee lad's suffering with his teeth. You know how it is, just as you're learning to chew, the blunt ones start forcing their way through. Obviously sore. Shame. Wakes him up in the middle of the night and you know, when he wakes up, the only thing on my mind is the pain and suffering of my wee boy. Honest. No, really. I swear. It's the truth.

Anyway. I'll save some stories for later. Like the tale of the sand pit. The adventure of the new wellies. Life on the open road in a bike trailer. Fun on a new-laid patio. Watch this webspace.

New year, new blog

Aye, we thought we'd celebrate the new year by starting a new story seeing as we'd lost the old one in a freak computer meltdown

Anyway, it was taking too long to upload having got bigger than any dial-up account was designed for. You can still see the old Blog by clicking here.

Interesting developments though. He can now walk fully upright and say "Daddy". How cute is that? Doesn't that just tug at the heartstrings? Apart from that he's as much of a rogue as ever - full of cheek, falling down stairs whenever there's no one looking, refusing to eat cheese but making a dive for every beer bottle that he sees. Not that there's many beer bottles around our house. Honest. Well, not full ones anyway. And, I know what you're thinking - somebody should be looking - but somebody can't always be looking and the sooner he learns that the better.

He's also taken to climbing into an empty cupboard in the kitchen and pulling the doors shut on himself and just sitting there in the dark, Is that weird? Is it a sign of something?

We've also been taking him out to play in the cold. Toughen him up. You don't want him turning into one of those pansified, pasty-faced bronchial kids that can't stand a bit of a breeze and are allergic to custard or something. Here he is on a swing. Looks happy enough, doesn't he? Depressingly, he was on the roundabout with a couple of other kids of about 8 or 9 and, being a FID (cough!), I'm spinning it as fast as humanly possible and the other kids are shouting to slow down. Slow down!! What's the world coming to? Maybe they just wanted a virtual roundabout so they could sit on their lardy arses in front of a radiator playing on a Playstation.

And finally, here's some true weirdness. Climbed into the boot of his pram in his pyjamas and just lay there. What the £@$% that was about I don't know.