It's just biology

Girl found an old picture of Mummy, Daddy and Boy, aged roughly the same as she is now.

Girl: Girl!
Mummy: No, that's Boy.
Boy: No Girl, you weren't even born yet then.
Mummy: But you do look a bit like Girl there.
Boy: Why?
Daddy: Because you're about the same age as she is now, and because you're family and sometimes family look similar.
Boy: That's because of DNA!

'Tis the season

Nope, no, I'm writing a note to Senta to take you off the nice list. So you'll get no presents.
No presents from anyone. I'm writing a note - to everyone. Even strangers and people that live in other countries.
....

A few days ago Boy told me that he'd heard about a nice list that meant you got presents from "Senta".

But that's not real. It's just a story.
Oh. Ok.*
But.... sometimes we can make fictional things come to life!

He'd been trying, unsuccessfully, for some time to make Myro the Microlite come out of the book and visit his house. Even yelling MYRO THE MICROLITE at the top of his lungs didn't work. Plans for the runway in our backyard are currently on hold.

He wrote a letter to Senta at school. He told him he should be on the nice list as he helped with vacuuming the other day. He wants a robot.

He's been telling everyone that he's getting a bike for Christmas. Luckily we've bought him one.



*We were trying to avoid Father Christmas, oh well

Weird science

Sometimes Boy is rough with Girl, and she dobs him in.

"Boy pushyoo" "Boy bite yoo" "Boy 'mack yoo" etc

The other day I heard a thud and Girl started crying. From around the corner Boy appeared, arms wide in that universal gesture for "I didn't do it":

"It was gravity!"

He had to learn about gravity, because he needed to know why the Earth revolved around the sun.

"You know, it seems like the Earth is the centre of the solar system, but it really isn't, actually!"

Which then brings us to the rotation of the Earth.

But first.... yesterday Boy was getting violent and wouldn't stop. In desperation I pulled out my one punishment card: No books at bedtime. He didn't believe me, but was devastated when bedtime rolled on and he realised he'd have to go to bed with no stories.

So, this morning he's fiddling with something of mine, which I've asked him not to touch. He looks at me slyly:

"But, if I do this [twiddles something around] it'll make the world spin around faster and faster and then I'll have had my stories in bed tonight before I've done this"

Yes. Time travel.

The truth about cats and dogs

Boy and Girl had been conspiring on some piece of mischief or other, when Boy approached Daddy:

Boy: I was just telling Girl that if your mummy and daddy both die, if you train your cat or dog really, really, really, reeaaally well, they can look after you instead.

Daddy: Don't you think that being taken care of by your grandma or granddad might be better?

[silence]

Worried that Boy was close to tears - perhaps grappling with thoughts of mortality - Daddy pulled him close and gave him a cuddle.

Daddy: Are you worried about mummy and daddy not being here one day?

Boy: No. I'm upset because your ruined the story I was telling Girl!

Blowing in the wind

Do you know, when I'm in pre-primary - which is not that far away, after the school holidays - I and Daddy are going to make a chinook. A REAL chinook. 

Oh, ok.

Yes, and we're going to go away on holidays in it. And you'll have to put some mooky in some bottles for Girl. Because we'll be going for months and months.

Oh, are you and Girl going without us?

No, the whole family will go together, but there's no bed so you can't lie down during the day.

Ok. Where will we sleep?

Oh, well.. there are sleeping quarters. But they're potential sleeping quarters, so there's a sign during the day saying you can't sleep here. Not until night time.

Right.

And do you know what the roof will be made out of?

Nope.

Wood! And we'll use plastic and metal and stuff we find in the back yard.

Ok.

And guess how we'll do the washing while we're on holiday? Because there's no washing machine.

I don't know.

In the swimming pool! And we'll open a little hatch in the floor and squeeze the washing out so the water goes out the bottom of the chinook. And then we'll hang them out to dry in the air as we're flying along.

Ok.

And now we have to look on the internet to find out how to make a real, working chinook from backyard detritus. 

Show me the money

We recently decided Boy was ready for a little more responsibility around the home and some financial remuneration in return.

He's had some funny ideas about work and money in the past. One day, quite some time ago, he decided to unroll toilet paper all over the house. I berated him for wasting money - now daddy would have to work even more to buy more toilet paper. Oh my folly! If it wasn't bad enough to be guilt-tripping a two year old, he took me literally and started telling anyone who'd listen that daddy worked in order to buy toilet paper.

Then, Boy and I went along to a riverside festival where daddy was helping on a one-hole golf game. After that, he would tell everyone that daddy worked with golf balls at a park.

More recently, we managed to explain to him that actually daddy mostly worked behind a desk with a computer. So, having explained the concept of pocket money - you work and we pay you, like daddy works to earn money - he declared: Yes, that's a great idea mummy! You can set me up on the computer with some work to do and then I can earn some money.

We explained his work would be doing helpful things around the house. And it's been good - he's been generally a lot more helpful!

We decided on $3 per week, but $1 would be 'taxed' for a savings account. He is very keen to find out what he could spend $2 on. $2 doesn't buy much these days, of course. It is the price of a round trip on the miniature railway out near his grandparents' place, which is a good reference point for him. After handing over his first lot of earnings, I asked him whether he wanted to spend it now or wait till next week, when - presuming he was similarly helpful - he would have more. How much more? Two dollars, plus two dollars equals....? FOUR!

Oh! I'll wait till I have FOUR dollars!

We scoped out K-Mart, calculating how many weeks he'd have to save to buy particular toys. He really wanted the big lego set, but when I explained that would mean waiting an entire year, he thought perhaps he'd choose a smaller thing.

And every time he NEEDS something I say: Yes, maybe you can buy some with your pocket money. And today, he's made his first purchase. I bet you'll never guess....

Yep, a packet of plastic hooks for hanging stuff on your wall. They will be used to finish the construction of his cubby house.

Sneaky, sneaky

How many limes are there?
I don't know!
Let's see. There's one..two...three...four....
Yes, there's four. And there's two more, so that's six*.

MATH GENIUS!!!!

Today Boy spied something in his grandmother's bag. A little something she was going to give him when she left.

He wants it. Now.

I'm going to make a machine to sneak it out of grandma's bag!
That's stealing!
No it's not. Grandma is going to give it to me when she leaves.
But it's not yours till she gives it to you. She has to give it to you, otherwise it's stealing.
But... she's going to be on a plane or something....
.....
But... the machine will steal it.

It'll stand up in court.



* Imagine, once more, that tone of voice reserved for the terminally stupid.

Great Escape!

Walking Boy home from school today, I was bent near double trying to follow his story about being waylaid after delivering the lunch orders to the canteen. I *think* the girl he went with went AWOL and he had to go to the teacher and let her know. But I'm not sure. I just nodded and said oh, ok. Which is what I say when I can't really follow what he's saying but I've already asked him for clarification three times and it's not any clearer.

After dinner, he announced that tomorrow he was going to escape from school via underground tunnel. He would burrow down deep under ground with little "pop ups" along the way, starting in the sand pit and going under the footpaths all the way to the city. And then he'd come back again in time for lunch.

We expressed some concern about him disappearing.

He reassured us that he wouldn't burrow down too deep.

We pointed out that the teachers would be worried if they couldn't find him.

He said he was just exaggerating! He'd just go from one end of the sand pit to the other.

Chip off the old tiles

Girl* fell off her chair at dinner tonight.

Boy immediately lept up and rushed to her side. What was he doing? Checking on her.... Naw, how sweet.

"Nobody pushed her mummy! She just fell off!" (Just for a change.)

I picked up Girl to comfort her. Turning around, I noticed Boy bent over, peering intently at the spot on the floor where Girl had fallen.

"What are you doing?"
"Oh, I'm just checking for dents..."




*She's not a baby any more. Time to face it :(

Give the Boy a medal

I've invented a new Olympics sport. 
First, you have to run really fast around and around three times so that the ninja fish can't bite you.
And then you have to kick the slidden fish. The slidden fish is dead.

Further details are still quite confused at this point.

Daddy's trying to figure out how you win. But you know you're finished when the ninja fish is dead. There's also a ninja tower, which attacks the dead fish. And then says sorry.

Is there a doctor in the house?

When Boy becomes Boss of the World, he intends to rid the planet of doctors.

Last time I took Boy to the doctor, I had to literally drag him in kicking and screaming. And then hold him down while the doctor checked his ears - he had an infection, poor sod.

On the way out, fueled by righteous indignation, he kept yelling: I'm NEVER coming here again!


Today he wanted me to come in for a checkup.

Me: Shall we go through to the consulting room, then?
Boy: No, we have to go straight to the hospital.
Me: Oh, ok then.
Boy: There's no assaulting room.

Glad to hear it.

Humour me

Boy: I'm going to get an elephant for our backyard! A FIFTY-FOOT elephant!
Me: Wow. That's a really big elephant. That'd be even bigger than our house!
Boy:.... No! [Tone reserved for the very stupid] It's the same size as a normal elephant, it just has more legs.

~~bucketafish~~

What goes around...

Justababy: 'Kay, 'kay, 'kay.
Boy: Why are you saying ok?
Justababy: 'Kay, 'kay, 'kay.
Boy: Just stop saying ok when I haven't asked you do do anything!
Justababy: 'Kay, 'kay, 'kay.
Boy: Mummy! She just keeps saying ok when I haven't even asked her to do something.
Me: I think she's just talking to herself. Like you do sometimes.
Boy: Hmmm. Well it's just annoying.

I hadn't noticed ....

Would I lie to you?

I witnessed Boy riding his tricycle into Justababy the other day. It was quite deliberate - not only was he giggling, but he reversed up a bit and rode back into her a couple of times before I could get there.

So the tricycle went up in the wardrobe and there was much wailing and angry crying.

I decided to talk to Boy about it when he demanded his trike back.

Me: What were you doing with your bike?
Boy: NOTHING!
Me: I saw you riding into your sister with it.
Boy: Well it was just an accident!
Me: I don't think it was an accident, really.
Boy: Well I just couldn't see where I was going.

I read somewhere that kids develop the ability to lie around the age of 5 or so. We we have a big 'check' for that developmental milestone at just shy of four and a half.

Me: I think you're telling me lies. You know, we don't tell each other lies?*
Boy: Why don't we?
Me: Because we love each other, so we tell each other the truth.**
Boy: We we do tell each other lies because we hate each other.

Mkay.


*This is manifestly untrue in light of the proceeding conversation, of course.
**Lame?

The sins of the father

I'm a bit of a duffer because I have got duffer DNA from daddy.

Reason I can't eat my dinner #435

I'm scared to eat lots of chicken because it might come alive.

The ego is strong with this one

Boy is all about Boy. What Boy wants. What Boy does not want. No one else really enters into it.

Want Boy to do something? You'd best devise an explanation for how it's really in his best interest.

Sometimes I manage that, but sometimes....

"Then I will just call my monkey crew. And they will throw bananas at anyone who tries to make me do what I don't want to do."

Oh. Imaginary monkeys throwing imaginary bananas. I'm scared.

"No. They're REAL! I call them up then they come through the phone."

Uh huh.

"They come through the phone with a ginormous box of bananas. And they throw them round all over the place."

Keep a lid on it

Boy: Have you heard about bottom lids?
Me: Errrr. No.
Boy: Well, unfortunately, you know some people have a chemical in their bottoms. And they need to filter it out.
Me: Right.
Boy: So they need a bottom lid on their bottom. To filter out the chemicals.
Me: Oh.
Boy: And they have to keep it on for TWO days. And they have to strap it on over their bottom cheeks.
Me: ......
Boy: Do you want to see a picture of someone with a bottom lid that I drew?

.... do you?

Sweet dreams are made of these...

As you may know, Boy has quite an imagination. He's had some very interesting dreams at times.

The ones that really stand out in my memory are the nightmares, though.

My inconsolable Boy yelling "I want my HEEEEAAAAARRRRRT!" "I want my HEEEEAAAAARRRRRT!" really upset me.

Then Daddy asked me what he wanted his hat for. What a relief! And that made much more sense (sort of).

"I don't like CORN RIIIIIIICE."

This was easier to interpret - too much risotto Mummy.

And, then, last night I heard my Boy sobbing in his sleep. Whatever was wrong this time?

"I overloaded my engines!"

Apparently he was dreaming about Thomas the Tank Engine.

Tricks of the trade #351

Justababy, who isn't really a baby anymore*, is at an age where her long-held determination has finally coalesced with a newfound ability to actually follow through. Among other things, this currently manifests itself as her insistence on doing everything that Boy does. Eating everything Boy does. Drinking everything  Boy does. And so on.

Boy decided she should now be called Wanty Cat**. Because she wants everything that he has.

This evening Boy was playing in his room. Justababy wanted to, too. Mummy (that's me) wanted Justababy to get in the bath (and get off to bed).

What to do?!

Well, I very cunningly convinced Boy to help me*** by pretending that he was going to have a bath.

It worked a charm - what a win:win(win) resolution!

I now owe my son... something.




*I'll just keep calling her that to avoid confusing my reader(s)
** I'm assuming it's a play on Copy Cat. He thought I was just silly when I asked why it wasn't Wanty Dog or Wanty Bird.
***With much teenagerly sighing! "Ooooohhh kaaaaay"

Out of the blue

Boy wanted to know why the air isn't coloured.

I pondered this a moment, then proposed that it would  make it pretty hard to see things if it weren't transparent. He agreed. "We'd just keep bumping into things!"

"Yes, so isn't it good that it's not coloured?" Well, actually, no.... he wants it blue.

He ran off to get his Blue-enator and some super-duper dye to fix this problem.

Stay tuned....

The Thinker

Boy just had me sit down on the couch to think about what I'd done. "No, don't get up. You have to stay right there when I leave. Just sit down and think about what you've done."

I protest - "But I don't know what I've done, what are you talking about. Why are we doing this?"

"You just know mummy, so just think about it. And then go hmmmmm*."

He returns. "Now, what did you do?"

I still don't know.

"Hmmmmm. I'm going back over there to think about what you did. Hmmmmm."

I must admit, being on the receiving end has left me a bit perplexed about this discipline technique! I asked Boy to explain it to me - how can I think about what I did if he won't tell me what it's about?

"Well, mummy, that's just what thinking is all about."


* I have the strangest feeling that his school teacher hmmms a lot....

And stay out!!!!

Some time ago, Boy suggested writing a sign for his toy room* saying "No babies allowed".

I pointed out that babies can't read. (Boy also can't write, so perhaps it doesn't matter anyway.)

Recently he has taken an interest in those signs with big red circles and lines through them....

This is now adorning his play room door:

It is, of course, a picture of a baby messing with his stuff, with a big circle around it and a line through it.



*NO! It's his workshop

Boss Boy

Boy intends to be Boss of the World when he grows up. Actually he's already filling the position in an acting capacity, I think. And of course there has to be one, mummy, otherwise how else would everyone know what to do?

Well, some of us like to make our own decisions.
~~~frown~~~
Boy doesn't like that idea.

At the playground he came to me, quite perturbed, as another boy had pushed him (yes, pushed!) because he had "ruined his game".
So, this boy did't like you ruining his game?
Yes, but, he pushed me.
So.... maybe you shouldn't have ruined his game?
Yes, but, mummy, you have to come and fight with him.

Yeah. I don't think so.

Amazing news

Boy had his BFF from school over the other day. His little mate is obsessed with the Titanic, while Boy is obsessed with emergency & rescue workers (amongst other things).
So, naturally, they fished from the top of his play tower for wreckage from the post-iceberg Titanic.


They had some rather exciting finds....


Later in the day, Boy "telephone-called" his grandmother to tell her this important news and instruct her in what she needed to do.


This is her "work":


All media outlets have been notified of the amazing find of penis and bone parts  - of Titanic victims. Truly remarkable that it was found inland quite some distance - and continents and oceans -from anywhere close to where Titanic ever journeyed.............and that is was scientifically identified by two 4 year olds!

The world is gob smacked!


Yes. Penis.*


Really I don't know why.






*Could have been worse.

Fat dadda

Daddy was sitting at the computer when Boy approached.

Boy: Daddy.... What is your chest fat doing there?! [pointing to the place where Daddy met the computer desk*]
Daddy: That's not my chest.... I do have a big belly, though. I should exercise more.
Boy: [looks thoughtful for a moment] Yes. You should exercise more.


*Daddy is quite certain his belly was not touching the desk. There was at least a millimetre of t-shirt fold in between.

On the nose

Boy wanted to sleep outside tonight. We managed to convince him it wouldn't be a great idea without a tent - what with being eaten alive by mosquitos and all.

We've now segued into camping out in his play room. No worries. But not every night, because then it wouldn't be special.

Boy: Hmmm. So can I sleep with Justababy and you? Then that will keep sleeping in the play room special.
Me: Yes, but, Justababy wakes up a lot. You wouldn't get much sleep.
Boy: That's ok mummy. I can sleep through noise.
Me: Ummmmm. But then I won't have much room with two wriggly little kids. What about sleeping with daddy.
Boy: Yes, that's a good idea. Because I can sleep through smelly things, too.

I think I can fly

Boy is quite intent on building a flying machine. He had me help him test the latest version out. This involved him climbing on a small plastic chair while I pulled on a plastic shopping bag with a ball in it. He then counted down from one to three and jumped.

Nup. Needs more adjustment.

As he explained to his daddy:
I want to fly. But I just keep falling on my nose.

Dust bubby

I asked Justababy what she was doing in the dirt here:

"Bath"

.....
Meanwhile, on a planet far, far away (just out of camera shot), Boy wants to find a way to fly.

Must dash, parachutes to build.

How far from the tree do the apples fall?

Boy often complains about his dinner. Tonight it was "disgusting".

He demands something else. And if I don't jump right to it, he declares "I'll just get something for myself!"

He's started sneaking food at dinner time. Tonight Daddy confiscated an apple before we managed to get him to sit down and eat his dinner.

Boy: Why do I need to stop sneaking food?
Me: Because we give you good food for dinner and you need to eat it before you can have other food.
Boy: But apples are healthy.
Me: Yes, they are, but you still need to eat your dinner first.
Boy: Well you should just give me apples for dinner.

Fire power

Boy: I'm much better at hunting scary animals than those kids in that book!

Me: Which book?

Boy: The Bear Hunt book.

Me: And you're better?

Boy: Yeah! Because I have proper guns!

Sales pitch

Getting your child to eat new foods. A lesson.
It's all in the marketing.
Quinoa = completely unknown, certainly yucky food.
"Special grain from Africa"* = oh yum, I love that!**



*Yes, I know, but Africa is COOL. That's where Naughty Tiger is from. He doesn't eat it, though. He prefers chicken.
** He didn't actually eat it, but never mind. We did avoid the screaming meltdown about how awful it was.

New day job

Boy has a dream.
He wants to write his own Great, Big Animal Book*. He started the other day drawing a comparative diagram of a grasshopper's lungs and a shark's gills.

And then, this morning....

I'm drawing the lungs of a praying mantis tiger lion. Giant ones. And it has lots of bacteria around it to help it. Then the lungs die out and the bacteria help them back to life again by growing new skin around them.

Boy says he's going to teach me all about arthropods and stuff like that.


*the biology textbook that is a frequent feature of bedtime reading

Learn something new...

Boy [from the toilet]: There's an arthropod in here.
Daddy: Oh, so there is. Can you tell me if that's a crustacean or an insect?
Boy: Uuummmmm, I think it's a crustacean.
Daddy: Yes, that's right. It's a wood lice.

Time Out of the box.

For those parents that don't 'do' punishments, ever wondered what happens when your imaginative four year old goes to school and encounters The Naughty Corner and Time Out....?

Well, the other kids get to go in The Naughty Corner. But I don't. But that's ok, because I just stop wherever I am and just think about having a naughty corner in my head. And it's ok, because it's more interesting* in there.

* "istering" in fact.

Power nap

[YAAAAWWWWN] Oh I had such a long sleep! Now I've lost all my exciting parts.

Rude is the new polite

Boy: [to Daddy] Where's my hoe? It's in your shed! LET'S GET MY HOE!!!

Daddy: Are you going to ask nicely?

Boy: [mumbling] I was asking nicely - just a sort of polite grumpy.

Boys and the bees

The other day Boy asked where babies come from. Or rather, how exactly mummies and daddies made babies.
I searched my brain for an adequate response....
Well, an egg from mummy and a sperm from daddy mix together inside mummy and make a baby that grows inside mummy.
This was apparently an acceptable answer.

It turns out that Daddy and Boy had covered this recently during their bedtime reading. Boy's favourite book is a biology textbook known as The Great Big Animal Book.

Then, the next morning I overhead this...

Daddy, why haven't I seen you and Mummy making babies?
Errrr, huh? [stalling for time]
I mean.... how long does it take to make a baby?
Oh. A long time [phew!]

Tigers are a Boy's best friend

I've written about Naughty Tiger before, and if you've ever met Boy, you'll have heard all about him.

Naughty Tiger lives in a magical land where absolutely anything is possible, which must be nice for him. It's also a convenient - and very commonly used - comeback for Boy for pretty much any argument.

What do you mean, the car can't fly to the moon? But Naughty Tiger's can.*
You want me to wash my hands after I go to the toilet? But Naughty Tiger doesn't have to.

The other day Boy wanted to know why we didn't have a car park at our house.
We don't really have that many cars....
Well, Naughty Tiger has a car park at his house.
Really, how many cars can he fit in it?
As many cars as there are trees in the world.
(Daddy commented that he probably would have had to clearfell quite a few to fit the car park in...)

Recently Boy went shopping with his grandma. Naughty Tiger went along too. He was up to a bit of mischief though, snatching things off the shelves and trying to take things from grandma's trolley.
NO NO NO! Yelled Boy. No Naughty Tiger, put that back. That's not yours!

And today Boy had to yell at Naughty Tiger again: No Naughty Tiger, NO! Don't drive your car on the footpath.
Mummy, I just had to tell Naughty Tiger not to run his car into that man on the footpath.**
Is he coming to the shops with us?
No! He's going that way. [shakes head]


*In point of fact, Boy has a magical car that will take him into space, but if you want to get to the moon or Mars or somewhere like that, you will need to take the helicopter. Der.

** Said man did look a bit worried about it all.

Babies are just all right for Boy

We were out to dinner when Boy handed down his verdict on girls.

Girl babies are just all right for me. But when they are little girls they are not all right for me.

Us (taken aback): Why?

They are just too distracting for me when I'm trying to do something.


One of our hosts noted that this was probably going to be a bigger problem for him as he gets older.

Backseat babbler

Boy (from the back seat of the car): No! No! No! No!

Me: What's wrong sweetie?

Boy:  Nothing's wrong. Why are you asking me if anything's wrong?

Me: You said No no no no no. I thought you were talking to me.

Boy: Nooooooo. One hand was just saying that to the other one.

Me: Oh. Right.

Boy: Now they are fighting.

Ninja strike

>>>This post contains no mention of Boy.*


I put a tired Justababy up on the bench so I could cook dinner. She enjoyed that. She also enjoyed dropping things over the edge.
Turns out she quite likes the sound of glass breaking, but isn't so keen on the vacuum.

Anyway, I decided to move her away from breakables to another end of the bench. All good.
I forgot the fruit bowl was right there.

The final score
Justababy: 5 (didn't get a shot of the nectarine she demolished, these ones were too hard you see)
Fruit: ..... will get their own back later

Can't wait till she gets molars! There'll be nothing to stop her then.



* Except that one

Down on the farm

Boy likes to play pretend. He has quite a vivid imagination. He also has a farm out in our backyard. He has sheep and cows and grows wheat.*

Daddy is currently trying to bring order to the chaos that is our backyard, er, farm, and part of that naturally involves shoving any potentially dangerous junk behind the shed.** Boy, however, objected to the idea of putting up barriers to stop him clambering over the junk pile.

Daddy: But there are spiders and sharp nails in there.
Boy: It's ok Daddy! The cows will chase away all the spiders and pull out all the nails.
Daddy: Errr, no, look....




*Actually he recently told his grandparents that he didn't keep animals, just grew food to feed his family. Tomatoes in fact. Which is sort of true.

** No, he can't just throw it away.

Boy's imaginarium

I'm not quite sure where Naughty Tiger* came from. But somehow he has become an important presence in Boy's life. Boy knows Naughty Tiger is imaginary, but.... he's also getting more and more real.

Just a little while back, Boy was pretty scathing of Grandma when she wanted to know what Naughty Tiger looked like - He's IM-AG-IN-ARY Grandma!

And now suddenly he's there - Right there, behind you! - and joining in on Boy's little adventures. The other day we took the train to visit Boy's second cousins. Naughty Tiger met us at the car park - See! There he is - having parked his car down a drain. Boy made him stay right there though, and wait for us, as he couldn't be trusted not to eat his cousins' toys.

Naughty Tiger is an electrician, like Boy's uncle. And he lives in Africa. In a 4-wheel drive. A magical, flying 4-wheel drive to be precise.

He has a friend who lives in a very scary place - it's called Savos Land and is on a hill. It's scary because of the trees that thump the ground.

His family includes Sific Tiger - we wrapped a christmas gift for him this year - and Nice Tiger and Cheeky Monkey.

Oh and we just had his birthday - and a meltdown that there was no cake for when he came over. He turned 1.

He's done quite a lot for a one year old.



*He's not actually naughty, that's just his name.