School Projects

At the weekend I spent three hours trying to make a pair of “bloomers” from a pillowcase for my 5YO son’s school project following a story they read about the “Queen’s Knickers”. With three kids and a wife who works in the evening and weekend, this is time that I don’t really have. Moreover, I see little point in setting homework projects that the children can not do themselves. My son refuses to wear his bloomers and I support his view. So spending precious time doing something that is not supporting my son’s involvement at school seems pointless. Also, I can not see what they are trying to teach children by exploration (no pun intended) of this rather irreverent topic. There are many far better things that children can be learning about a monarchical diamond jubilee: its democratic nature, its global reach, its enduring support, etc. I am minded to complain but am concerned that this will cause undue friction. Am I being reactionary? Should I be sat up at eleven o'clock at night making bloomers rather than doing my tax return? Perhaps it’s worth doing because it's a social activity and it shows support for the kids' efforts and makes them feel that their play or assembly is a little more important. I think it is important to make them feel good and supported at school, even if he doesn’t wear the bloomers.. Perhaps I am still influenced by an awkward event I had at my primary school which still haunts me. I wrote about it in my first book: Our class ran a puppet production of Winnie the Pooh. I had the part of Tigger and my Mom made a glove puppet out of an old sock and acrylic fur. It was orange with brown stripes and button-eyes and a red tongue. It was easily the best puppet in the class. At least it looked like a puppet, rather than a sock. “Wow, Billy, look at your Tigger, it’s brilliant!” said Charlie Crest who was in the football team and praise from him was better than sweets. “I wish my Mom made me a puppet,” whined Graham Adams who was Top-of-the-Class and I smiled, reflecting in unfamiliar adoration. It was short lived. The middle-aged dragon-teacher cruelly smashed my expectation of praise. “What have you learned by getting your mother to make it for you?” She was unnecessarily vehement, presumably because I had stolen the spotlight from her, and I replied with the unabashed malevolence that only a seven year old can muster. “I learned that I don’t come to school to sew.” Anyway, I decided to press on and make the bloomers without complaint and Son No2 took them to school and all was well until I asked him what he'd learned about the Jubilee. "It's all about the Queen's knickers, daddy," he said.

Afternoon naps are for Whimps

Our 2YO still needs a nap during the day or else he is very difficult in the late afternoon. He fights it most of the time and getting him to sleep during the day can be difficult. My elder two boys were the same. My wife gets him to hav a rest, reading, watching TV, and it helps. She draws the curtains and often he'll fall asleep on the sofa. Top tip here is to choose a film/prog that is not too stimulating; i.e. not power rangers! Something he/she has seen before helps too. Other methods I use (but my wife is not too keen on) is to go for a drive. Caution, however, we live in a very quiet culde sac so have no concerns about leaving him sleeping in the car. Or drive to a coffee shop with outside tables or parking near the window. Result: you can sit having a brew and reading the paper. Again, massive caution in hot weather. If there's nowhere safe to leave the car, I have often had to stay in it with him. Nother result, I get to read, listen to the radio or nap while the long haired hero goes shopping! If you have an ipod you could watch a movie... Maybe that's why I am not allowed one. Alternatively, I take him for a walk in the pram. I often have to force him in but once he's strapped down he gives up the fight and sleeps well. We have dog which tips the argument in my favour. At two YO, I think they need a kip during the day.

Like Father Like Son

Having your son or daughter participate in your own hobby or sport must be a wonderful feeling. I was anticipating teaching my three to ski when they’re older. My own ill health has prevented that but I still encourage them to take up some sport or other and go along to support. This needs caution, however, that you don’t push too hard. My father was a county rugby player and wanted me to follow on. I did my best and was rugby captain at school and university but once I left college and started playing with grown ups I did not even get a regular second team place. I tried many other things. I played the lead in a school production of Treasure Island and was asked by the local Am Dram group to join them. As a 15YO I lied about my age and ran a half marathon in 90 minutes. I took up rock climbing and was climbing E grades within a year. But unless it was rugby my dad did not seem interested so I persisted even though it was clearly not my forte. My two elder boys of 5 and 6 have been to rugby and football practice and showed no interest whatsoever. “Can’t see the point in it, daddy,” my eldest said. Eventually he started doing karate, which I know nothing about but he seems to enjoy and is progressing well. The middle boy who is nearly five goes swimming and it has finally started to work for him. "Daddy, I swam a width without a floaty belt!" he yelled at me last night when I got home from work. I was so pleased for him. Quite apart from being independent in the water, having his own successes may allow him to move out of his big brother's shadow. What I have learned from these personal and vicarious experiences is that the most important thing is that children are encouraged to do outside activity and pursue what interests them. And also that parents show interest in it.

Is Facebook an Addiction?

$104Bn was the estimated worth of Facebook when it floated on the NYSE. That’s a lot of friends. I am not on Facebook, I don’t see the point but my wife is obsessed with it. At all times, she seems to be fiddling away on her Blackberry debating the relative merits of whichever loser is currently being ridiculed on the X Factor. Even crying children have to compete with Facebook for attention and I am minded of Hogarth’s C18 engraving of gin soaked mothers letting their babies fall from the breast. An extreme analogy, perhaps, but one that makes the point, I hope. I appreciate that Facebook has opened up a whole new world to mums, especially when they have young children/babies. Instead of feeling isolated and withdrawn because they are in the house, they can still feel in touch with the outside world and feel connected. But I just don’t get the constant need to feel connected, especially if you’re just about to see, or have just seen, someone. Am I alone in thinking like this? Why do girls have this constant need to communicate with their friends, even when their kids are jumping up and down for attention? I suppose it's good for kids to know that Mum or Dad can be busy sometimes and that "I WANT A BISCUIT!" is not going to get an immediate response. They don't know that Mummy is distracted by a social networking site; she tells them she's working. It is frustrating though, having my every move recorded into the Blackberry; I feel like I have been electronically tagged.

Political Correctness in School

My five year old son likes peanut butter sandwhiches. He has to sit on his own at lunchtime at school in case other children or staff with allergies are affected.

It seems a bit draconian to ostracise a young boy for the sin of eating peanuts. Would it not be more appropriate for the staff to identify children with allergies and ensure no-one else eats my sons butties?

This is the same school that had an event in their sports day of hanging washing: children lined up to run to a washing line, hang some pretend laundry and then run back. Really.

Is this normal?

The Age of Innocence

I heard about the death of Osama Bin Laden early one Sunday morning as I put 24-hour news on the TV whilst playing on the floor with my baby son. It caught me off balance; I have a professional, but very peripheral, interest in such matters. I listened to the newsreaders and journalists speculate with increasing abandon about the likely impacts or repercussions. It was likely there would be none; Bin Laden had not been a meaningful AQ figure for some time, this was a victory of US domestic policy. Possibly there would be some concern about the manner of Bin Laden's death, execution or assassination depending upon whether you considered him a religious martyr or a terrorist, but in reality, even the most antagonistic of liberal journos would see that BL's incarceration and extended trial would serve no purpose towards justice and would only further the cause of extremism: He was much better off dead.

The irony and hypocrisy of my own perspective was not lost on me as I played with an utterly innocent child. I read books and tell tales to my three little men in which the heroes are fair, the baddies are unquestionably wrong and there is always a clearly defined and happy ending. Could we ever deliver that to our children? Seemingly every generation has said that whilst prosecuting conflict somewhere else. At what age will my sons ascend to this knowledge, possibly take part in it?

Recently, as I was flushing a dead tropical fish away, my 5YO followed with interest.
"How does a fishy get to fishy heaven through the toilet, Daddy?" His question seemed to be an innocent request for information, rather than a mischievous challenge to my attempts to offer a balanced perspective on life and death. "Does it swim there?"
"No, it's dead, it can't swim. Its soul goes to heaven." Did I really say that? Does a fish have a soul? To have a soul, a being surely must have consciousness; does a fish? I remember as a child never being satisfied by these facile ideas but I was now immediately confused by the innocent logic of a 5YO. In fact he is not five yet. At what age will I have to come clean on this issue?

Sex education seems to start even earlier in life.
"Apparently your thingy gets hard and you stick it in a girl's fadge. I can't wait!" Declared an older boy in my wife's network of friends. That's the basic, innocent truth of it, I suppose, but what of the tortured wrangling that is necessary to get a girl to agree to this simple act. Sex education never seems to address the need for dinner dates, chat up lines and Brad Pitt looks. It seems to be offered as a right but at what age should we address these fundamentals? It's a bit like driving a car: The basic operating principles are simple enough but negotiating the road, other road users and weather conditions can make it a difficult experience. And the more beautiful and expensive the car, the more difficult it seems to be to drive it.

Two Legs Better

Son No 3 officially became a toddler just before his 1st birthday. He had been cruising along the walls and furniture for a while and the final impetus for him to became a bipedal man was securing a crust of toast from an elder brother. He could not crawl whilst clutching the tempting morsel of peanut butter encrusted wholemeal toast so he stood up and walked (wobbled) over to the corner to rapturous applause as if he had just won the 100m. In his world, he did and I felt just as proud of him.

He looked like an early hominid discovering that opposable thumbs allowed him to carry things as long as he walked: "Four legs good, two legs better," declared the Orwellian pigs. And now he does not stop. He is eating more and sleeping all night. It is nice to go to sleep not expecting to wake until morning. Or it would be if it were not for son No 2 who had a bad dream and No 1 who got his legs twisted in the duvet causing a panic attack.

"Daaaddy," they shout without concern for their weary father. And I respond like a faithful labrador because that smile of appreciation in the dark is like the kiss of an angel. I'm their dad; I hope they always need me so.