Books and Boasting

on Books and Boasting

Eldest (8) now has a library card. So, being a braggart, I obviously flaunt the fact to my work colleagues. Why? Probably to give the giant “HERE BE A DAD” sign that I wear around my neck a bit of a spit and polish. So, there I am, smugly showing off my parenting prowess, when a rather astute workmate asks, “Why not get a Kindle? That way you’ll have all the books you could possibly want.”

I tried to answer wittily but failed to do so. Did I miss a trick here? I mean, it felt right; taking her to the library and nurturing a relationship between her and literature. I think I lamely replied along the lines of, “Because I want her to respect books,” but that rang false.

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Scones, Scotland and Unicorn Poop

on Scones, Scotland and Unicorn Poop

Last Sunday the Wife and I decided to take the girls (eight and four) for a short drive along the wine route, find a little farm stall, and treat the little terrorists to a light lunch and perhaps an ice cream. So the whole family was bundled into the car, the music set to mildly irritating and off we went.

The usual shenanigans ensued. We couldn’t agree on which direction to take, then we did the slow aimless drive of people not quite sure of where they’re going. The kids were in a bit of a ratty mood, and there were late exclamations of “Ooh turn off here!” when the only way I’d make the turn would be via wormhole, which in turn was followed by the moans of the lost opportunity as if I’d just denied them the gates of paradise. So eventually I made the inevitable U-turn and we landed up at a quaint little establishment housing a restaurant and farm grocer.

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Christmas, Easter Eggs and Birthdays

Christmas, Birthdays and Easter with kids

When I was five my parents surprised me a few days before Christmas with a visit from Santa (aka Dad in disguise). Little me was playing happily in the living room when the front door crashed open and a tassel-toting red-white blur sprinted into our house, dropped a heap of presents by the Christmas tree, and dashed back out the same way he’d entered, presumably to continue his feverish delivery spree. I’m told I underwent several minutes of Post Traumatic Santa Syndrome, during which I sat motionless and wide-eyed, He-Man toy in hand, rhythmically opening and closing my mouth like a guppy out of water. Emotional scarring aside, the thought that my parents did all that for me still kicks up a chunk of emotional warmth in my heart.

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Tiny fists of fury

Tiny Fists of Fury – A little help please

I’ve gotten the idea into my head that self defense is a life skill, especially for women. I want to have both Eldest and Youngest take up a martial art.

Other than giving them the ability to pummel each other bloody during their usual sisterly tiffs, I can’t see a downside.

They are eight and four respectively and are girly-girls for the most part. I have about as much understanding of martial arts as I do of nuclear fission. In other words this seems a bit of a recipe for disaster if I don’t tread lightly, and may result in another classic “What were you thinking?” conversation with the Wife.

So I’m pitching this to you.

Are they too young? Do they need a higher emotional maturity first?

Which discipline should I consider? Kickboxing? Karate? Something else?

At the end of the day, Daddy isn’t always going to be there (nor Mommy, for that matter – a more formidable adversary in some ways).