Vlad the Imaler, Richard the Lionheart, Edward the Confessor . . . Grace the Easily Impressed.
It’s so true, and so sweet, and yet so annoying that everything; EVERYTHING impresses my daughter at the moment. Husband and I tried having a bit of a lie in this morning, being bank holiday and all. I got up, fed and watered The Giblet, and got back into bed with a nice brew for us, and having baby-proofed the upper floor, we thought she could amuse herself whilst we had a few minutes. Amusing herself consisted of finding treasure on the bedroom floor. Off she gibbles back and forth around the bed when something catches her eye. She crouches down, examines and carefully extracts said treasure from the carpet, and holds it aloft triumphantly. It is a small clump of dog hair.”WOOOW!” She exclaims in wonderment. Either that or we get “OOOOOooooh, aaaaaaaaah” (Yes, she actually says “Ooooh” and “Aaaaah.” Where’s she got this from? Surely no one outside a panto audience says this?) She passes her Dad and I the pieces of tat she finds alternately, and we pretend to be suitably thrilled by the gift of the dog fluff, the old receipt, the barely-visable-to-the-naked-eye scrap of tissue, and the earring back.
Next on the agenda: Sit nicely between Mummy and Daddy and let them watch the news? Play quietly in the nursery with toys? Don’t be silly. Next on the agenda is the “Wassat?” game. Since learning to ask what things are, there’s no stopping her. Out she runs from the bedroom and re-appears back through the door having selected an object of choice and demanding immediate identification with the word of the moment “Wassat?” On the plus side, she’s always happy with the first answer given. On the minus side, she does not return the object to its proper home, but dumps it unceremoniously onto the bed with us before going to select the next mystery item. It goes like this:
“It’s a shoe, Grace. Mummy’s shoe. Oh thank you”
(Runs out the room. 30 seconds peace. Runs back in)
“Book. That is a book Grace. Ta.”
(Exit once again. 60 seconds peace. Enter Giblet stage left.)
“That is the special stand for holding the toilet rolls Grace. Oh, you’re passing Mummy ALL the toilet rolls from it are you? Ta. Ta. Thank you. Ta Goodness me what a lot of toilet rolls. AND the stand too? THANK you Grace.”
(Objects on bed now beginning to obscure view of the telly)
“That’s a hammer. OO SH**, GIVE TO MUMMY GRACE! QUICKLY! TA!”
You get the idea.
Tedious as this can be, (and uncomfortable! Sharing your bed with hammers and toilet roll holders, a realxing lie in, does not make!) when you stop and think about it – how absolutely brilliant. I write this on my super fast broadband lap top, whilst watching my high def, large screen TV, mobile to the left of me, cappuccino from swanky coffee machine on my right, and yet I can’t remember the last time I “WOOOOW” -ed at something that wasn’t meant sarcastically. Yet our little ones find joy in the simplest of things. Bless ’em.
I resolve here and now to revel in my baby girls excitement at the mundane. After all, how long untill she’s whining for the latest games console, or pair of shoes, or lap top of her own? Yes. You go little girl! Find treasure in the carpet, find fun in the bathroom, find magic in all things plain. I am happy to share my bed with the equivalent of a car boot sale for as long as you like!