Tuesday, 20 May 2008

Willy who?

Who is Willy Nilly?
A perfectly reasonable question from Boy One, but I couldn't give him an answer that satisfied him.
"It's not anyone, it's a figure of speech."
"But it must have been someone, mustn't it?"
Must it? Any Nillys out there prepared to shed some light?

Monday, 12 May 2008

ectopic punctuation

On the wall of the ultrasound waiting area at the RAH in Paisley, a notice.
"Mums' & Dads' please ensure toys are returned to the box after use."
Discuss.

Funicular peculiar - a very red-faced moment.

We were looking for the fun in Funicular.

The last time I spent a weekend in Aviemore, there was a big ugly concrete building full of go-carts and theme pubs. It was so long ago, it was in the time when winters meant snow and snowboarding wasn't invented. Sigh.

But this time we'd whooshed and clambered all over Carrbridge's Landmark Forest Theme Park and stuffed our faces at the Aviemore's Cafe Mambo.

So, squeezing the last bit of entertainment from the trip, we pointed the car into the mist and headed for the Cairngorm Funicular station.

While most of the grown-up members of the party struggled with the disquiet that came from being up a mountain but forbidden to stride over the rocks or sit on the moss, we had to agree that it was a 'good thing'.

The kids loved the exhibition and the hot chocolate with marshmallows special. The sight of the splendid peaks had always been a perk of the we're-hearty-enough-to-climb-the-hill club, but now anyone parting with the somewhat startling fare can enjoy the vistas.

On the way down sharing a carriage with a few fellow voyagers, Boy One, Boy Two and their friend H had had their fill of Highland fun and were restlessly seeing diversion.
To distract them, the conversation was nudged in the direction of B1 and B2's forthcoming young sibling. The subject was when exactly did I know the baby was there. And how?

Just grappling with the right phrase, the Panther, or so I thought, leaped to the rescue.

Perhaps also bored fractious and seeking diversion, he asked: "So how did the baby get into mummy's tummy then?"

Boy One, dead pan: "You and mummy had sex."
Silence.

"Oh. How do you know that?"

"I saw it on the Simpsons... but I don't know what it means. Can I play with my Lego when we get home?"




Friday, 2 May 2008

Breakfast boys

Experts have concluded that women who eat a hearty breakfast are more likely to conceive sons. Not quite sure if anyone has asked Victoria Beckham for her thoughts...
However, recently we passed the anniversary of Dad's death. Yes, really, it's been a year.
In typical style we took to the hills - some 20 of us had a splendid day on the Fairfield Horseshoe. The sun shone, the rain splattered and at one point hailstones stung.
Still it was a lovely opportunity to catch up on our news and, incidentally, to celebrate the birth of my second nephew.
It turns out that new nephew, Baby N, is the 13th great grand-child of my grandfather Eric. You with me? Eric, like Dad, would have liked nothing better than a mixed bag of offspring with a few dogs enjoying a hike in the beloved countryside.
Anyhow, Baby N is grandchild number 13 and grandson number 12. That's 12 boys between us - and not a girl for more than 10 years.
What conclusions can we draw about this family's breakfast habits, then?
And the grannies - who love their little grandsons very much - have started to grumble about the lack of little girls in the mix.
Hmmm. No pressure then...
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