CENTRE OF ATTENTION AT LAST

4th February 2017                                                        

 

BABY (I WAS BORN WITH A SMILE ON MY FACE) GEORGE'S BLOG

 

AGED almost 9 MONTHS

 

CENTRE OF ATTENTION, AT LAST

 

Welcome to my world.

I have to say it’s been an odd looking world this week. My eyes have been all gunged up with conjunctivitis. So they were all swollen up. It is a brilliant look because I look like a tough boxer who’s just done a 15 round fight (and won – if I look like this you should see the loser). Grandad says with my build and weight it would be impossible for me to punch above my weight. Is that a compliment or an insult? Grandad confuses me at times.

Anyway, the pussy eye job made it an interesting week. I was really upgraded to centre of attention. Mum had to ring 111 about my eyes, how important is that? I think there are only four phone numbers more important than 111: 999, my Nanny and Grandad’s, Mamma and Grandad’s and our local Cantonese restaurant.

I was so centre of attention that Mamma made a special journey to see me. I was so special that she even went to Tesco Pharmacy, yes, Tesco Pharmacy to ask about little old me. Sister Freya was really jealous and said they’ve never, ever been to Tesco Pharmacy to talk about her. The best she’s done is Wilco’s Toy Dept where Mamma talked to an assistant about Sister Freya.

I was so centre of attention that my dad decided to have two weeks holiday to look after me. (Editor’s Note: George is not that special, George’s Dad had long had that holiday booked. It was just coincidence.)

Dad being at home, we visited Nanny and then Mamma and Grandad came. Being ill and Dad off and all these visits: it was like Christmas all over again. But without the boxes covered in pretty paper… And without a tree… And without the fantastically colourful fairy lights… And without Santa and Rudolf…  And without chocolate (not that I was allowed a lot of that at Christmas infact a big fat NONE!) And without turkey, Christmas pud and mince pies… I suppose really it was not like Christmas at all.

I love bonding time with my dad. We chill out together, have a couple of bottles, watch a bit of TV, have a bit of a walk (I’m a bit of a looser when it comes to going for a walk: I can’t walk yet) and a good old man to man chat. Plus a bit of sleeping, well I did.

Mamma and Grandad came to see me and we took Sister Freya to Nursery School. But then I was quite annoyed with myself because I fell asleep. Apparently they took Dad out for a meal and I missed it all. I assume they took me, and I assume they did take him for a meal, and they are not winding me up. I only seemed to doze off for a couple of minutes, not enough time for a meal.

I must have wound Grandad up (he came to see me and I went to sleep - No Grandad I wasn’t bored, honest)  because when we got to our house he got his own back and went to sleep. I think he needs an afternoon nap as much as I do, but just as long as one of us stays awake to keep an eye on Mamma the world’s going to be ok. Left to her own devices she’s more dangerous than President Trump. (I’m only quoting what Grandad says).

I went to the doctors with Dad and Mamma. What a shady character the doctor turned out to be. Even though my eyes were almost closed I kept a beady eye on him. He had these things sticking out his ears and put the other end on my chest and back. Unfortunately my speaking needs to mature a little before it registers with people. I wanted to scream out, “Do you really know what you’re doing. It’s my eyes, numskull.” (Numskull is not a swear word is it?).

Then when we got home Dad had this small tube of raindrops and purposefully dropped a raindrop in my eye. I could not believe it, but I kept on smiling. I assume it was one of his games to help me learn to swim. But didn’t he know my eyes were all puffed up and sore. I realised he couldn’t see them from where I was looking. So every time I saw him with the raindrop tube after that I closed my eyes very, very tightly.

“Nice game, nice game.” Most of Dad’s games are, except when he forces me to watch Liverpool FC on TV. But this eye game sucks Dad, right!

Then, on Friday the most amazing thing in this world happened. You know how since being born I craved chocolate and then at Christmas I tasted some illegitimately and didn’t particularly like it. Well, bring on the fanfare and the drum roll: I was given my first official chocolate button. Hoo bloody Ray! Sorry, but Grandad says it. I was a little dubious but this was OK. I realised chocolate is an acquired taste, but I am prepared to work at it, with a smile on my face.  I think I will eat a few million chocolate buttons in my life time. They give you a feel good feeling. I need to check with Mum but I think it was recreational chocolate, I did feel good afterwards. The photo is of me after eating the chocolate with thumbs up meaning: Wow that is good.

But I was not able to enjoy it to its full. Cousin Ewan says chocolate tastes its very best when you smear it all over your hands and face. But you need a bar for that, like a bar of soap and splash it all over. I can’t wait.

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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