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42 RAINY DAY & GRANDAD

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14th JULY 2017 2017

 

EWAN 2 YEAR OLD BLOG

RAINY DAYS & GRANDAD

 

Hi Ewan here.

Life is full of conundrums.

This week’s was, “What do you do with a tired Grandad for nine hours on a very wet day in July?” Not a lot really. It is a good job not all days in July are wet.

To start with when I got up I had a bottle. I’m too old for a bottle really but both Grandad and Mamma like to give me one. It’s their little treat, their little bit of security. It makes them still feel needed and with a purpose. I only have ordinary green top milk, so to me its no big deal, just drinking milk out of a bottle instead of a cup. Easy.

I lay back drinking it on Grandad’s knee watching Bing on Cbeebies. I like Bing he reflects my way of life. In this episode he had a toy engine and was messing about with it on the top of the climbing frame and inevitably the engine fell to the ground and smashed into a million pieces. He’s all upset but there’s no sympathy because he was messing about.

Been there, done that and got the T shirt. No. Wait. I can’t recall the T shirt. I’m probably too big for it, now, anyway.

But I didn’t see if the problem was resolved for Bing because the dustbin lorry (refuse collectors) came down our street emptying the wheelie bins.

“Look the dustbin men” shouted Grandad all excited. He picked me up and rushed to the window.

I’m sorry but I can’t get too excited about a big yellow lorry and a couple of men running around in the rain emptying wheelie bins in the back of it. Although I was impressed that they were brave enough to be out in the pouring rain without umbrellas.

But Grandad does get excited about the site of the wheelie bin collecting lorry so you have to humour him and go with it, it’s all to do with your responsibilities as a grandchild. And grandparents are a huge responsibility.

The rain poured down, so all the streets were shiny wet. Grandad looked at the weather forecast on his phone. I could see it was bad news. There was a picture of two teardrops on the weather page. That means it’s a sad day weatherwise, it is going to pour with rain all day. I like it to be sunny, best, so that I can play outside.

So, short of anything better to do me and Grandad settled down to watch TV for the day.

Twirlywoos were brilliant, but Grandad was most annoyed at Peter Rabbit and Timmy Time. Both programmes had snow in them and were all about snow and winter time.

“This is disgusting” said a disgusted Grandad. “This is just not seasonal. You do not show snow and winter programmes at the height of sunny, summer.”

He looked out of the window at the rain bouncing on the road and corrected himself.

“Ok,” he said turning off the TV, “We’ll have less of that.”

“Let’s count the raindrops.”

I looked up at the sky. There were a lot of raindrops falling. This was going to take a long time and be a big, I mean huge, major job. I can count to twenty if prompted. We quickly reached that number. Then, one hundred and then more and more. One million and then numbers I had never heard of.

I tried to divert attention by slowly emptying my toy box: one dinosaur, two dinosaurs, a toy smart phone, another dinosaur, Peppa Pig, a dinosaur, a car,  not just any car a red car, a dinosaur,  a piece of Lego, a dinosaur, Thomas the Tank Engine, a dinosaur, a big red double decker bus and a dinosaur. My parents do not have a lot of imagination in respect of toys beyond dinosaurs.

“Let me read to you.” Said Grandad. I love being read to one of my most favourite things, apart from eating and pooing. The Gruffalo or We’re Going on a Bear Hunt or even Ten Little Dinosaurs. You choose Grandad.

He read something to me from a magazine called “What Hi Fi”. The pictures were ok, but the characters were hopeless and poorly constructed, their speech contrived and the plot was non existent.

He realised I was bored with the story and pretended to shut me in the toy cupboard – a Grandad joke, he does it every week, it is so boring, annoying and monotonous. Every week I have to fake being scared just to please him. Pathetic but he’s only old once and you have to respect that.

 He got out my huge orange and black football. The ball is huge and light like a beach ball but with a football patterns. When Grandad and Mamma first bought it for me it was as big as me. That was when I was one year old.  But I am two years old now and twice the size.

Grandad threw the ball across the room to me. I threw it back. You are not supposed to play with any balls in the house. Mum and Dad and Mamma tell you off. But Grandad doesn’t care. He’s a real rebel. He’s not scared of Mum… or Dad or, but maybe just a little of Mamma. Everyone is scared of Mamma.

We played ages with the ball bouncing it off the walls, throwing it and kicking it. Doing something you are not supposed to do is so rewarding and gives you a real adrenalin rush. Brilliant! It was alright we were careful we only hit the TV a couple of times and didn’t hit any ornaments.

We ate and drank and pooed. (Grandad too.) And watched the rain.

Then Grandad said: “Enough of this my boy. Get your coat on.”

I tried, but he had to help me as I have not quite mastered putting my coat on yet.

He put me into my buggy and we went out into the pouring rain. Only it was not poring. It was not raining at all. Grandad must have turned the rain off. At times he amazes me like that. He obviously knows where the rain switch is. It is one of his amazing Grandad powers like knowing when Bing is on TV, knowing when Dad is coming home and knowing exactly what Mamma is thinking, (or so he thinks).

So we went a walk. I went to sleep. Walking is so boring! I think Grandad sleeps whilst we walk, too. He falls asleep all the time.

But when we got back he turned the rain on again. Why? Sometimes you just wonder about old people, don’t you, grandparents in particular, my Grandad specifically.

I was relieved when Mamma turned up. So she’s fit again and she brought Rory from nursery, taking some pressure off me. Grandad so tires me out. I could sleep for days after being with him. I need to go to nursery to rest.

So in the afternoon we: read the Top 10 Books, Sang Top 10 Nursery Rhymes, watched the Top 10 TV programmes (may be Top 3), and played with my Top 10 Toys. We did Mamma’s Top 10 favourite things change my nappy, change my clothes, give me a bottle, sing lullabies to me, tell me off, etc. Phew…and still it rained.

My Mum loves me so much, infact, this much and thinks about me and knew it was going to be a long, tough nine hour day for me so she came home early to give me a break and bit of relief.

Boy, was it a tough day? But all in a good cause of looking after grandparents: Grandad in particular.

Philosopher’s say every action a human being takes has a selfish motivation no matter how remote. I have to admit looking after grandparents and Grandad specifically is such a selfish act. I am hoping even assuming I may be the youngest person to get a knighthood, Sir Ewan Monks, for services to grandparents.

 

Bye, Bye,Sir Ewan

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHECK OUT OTHER POSTS BY

2 YEAR OLD EWAN       1. 2 Year old EWAN'S Blog

 

CHECK OUT OTHER POSTS BY

1 YEAR OLD GEORGE   2. 1 Year Old GEORGE'S Blog

 

 

©2017 www.jeanniejeanniejeannie.co.uk – Phil Robinson

 

 

 

When I was a lad at school around 13 years old, our Maths teacher used to call me Wol. At the end of the year as we were moving up a class I plucked up courage to ask why he called me Wol. He told meit was thename of the deslexic owl in Winnie the Pooh. With my Harry Potter glasses he said I looked like the Wise Old Owl in the Winnie the Pooh stories.

 

Being the vain person I am I took it as a compliment

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