28 TELL YOUR FACE THIS FUN

15th April 2017

 

GEORGE'S BLOG

 

AGED 11 MONTHS

 

TELL YOUR FACE IS THIS FUN

 

 

 

 

Hi, welcome to my world, won’t you come on in.

 

This week’s been an unusual old week. And if anyone else says “Tell your face you are having fun. Where’s your smile?” I will scream. I suppose I will scream anyway.

 

You see Mum, Dad and Sister Freya are celebrating Easter holidays and we have to be off somewhere every day. Ok, that’s fine. But they expect me to enjoy it. I find there is too much pressure on me to enjoy things. It freaks me out. Grandad’s taught me that. He always feels under pressure to party.

 

I am not yet one year old my mission statement is: “Poo, eat, sleep, get into mischief and cry to your heart’s content”.

 

Where does it say I have to smile?

 

We’ve done so many theme parks, its like living in the TV, without the access to a remote control.

 

I get really bored so easily at my age. Grandad does at his age too. All I’m able to do is be pushed around in my pushchair. I’d rather be at home crawling around searching out power cables, telephones, tablets and remote controls and generally being a pest. But unfortunately I am not in control of my own destiny.

 

One of the major themes for the week has been “Changing Mum & Dad’s Car”. Gee, my life is so modelled on Peppa Pig. I am so appropriately named, George (Peppa’s brother). And here I thought it was a Royal name.

 

Car changing is alright. I realise not as quick as nappy changing but there’s just as much shit (poo) involved. There’s a good soft play area and ball pool and I’m actually allowed to use it. But twenty years on I know I will appreciate car supermarkets but not when my objective is pooing, eating, sleeping, being sick, getting into mischief and crying. I know this is the main objective for a 20 year old too but a set of wheels to them is more than a pushchair.

 

You know, one car seat is as good as the next when you are sitting on a cushion of poo wrapped firmly round your bottom with your nappy.

 

On Grandad’s party day Mum and Dad’s car had to be serviced and MOTed. One thing I have learned in my short life, in fact from my days in the womb, is that life is all about tests. The MOT is a test for cars. The health visitor did an MOT on me also this week and said I was 99%. Don’t ask me what that means, I don’t know, but from all the positive vibes I think it is good news. It probably meant 1 test down 99 to go. I don’t think the health visitor tests mean anything. They just do them to make their jobs more interesting, to stop them getting bored. Wouldn’t you get bored if you were inspecting babies every day.

 

Me and Cousin Ewan had to babysit Grandad on his party day whilst Cousin Rory and  Sister Freya went to see Beauty and the Beast at the Cinema. What’s the cinema then? Why are me and Ewan banned? Not that it bothers me. I’d rather be with my Grandad.

 

That night we celebrated his birthday with food. I had my first Hipp Organic spaghetti bolognese 12 months plus (and I’m only 11 months old!!!) food for Grandad’s birthday tea. My first real food. How amazing? How come I’ve lived so long without it? How have I survived? What a major breakthrough in my life.

 

 My Mum, Sister Freya and me made Grandad a birthday cake. Because I love him I wanted to throw everything into it including myself, but Mum stopped me and spoilt it.

 

Because I am not yet one year old I like to let all my five senses loose on everything I experience: sight, sound, smell, taste and feel. So when Grandad’s birthday cake candles were set on fire I launched myself into sense overdrive: sight – Cake looked wobnderful under the glowing candle, sound – the crackling fire of candles crackled and the fire engine sirens, smell – delicious smell of chocolate cake mixed with candle wax, taste – the brilliant blend of chocolate and wax, delicious and finally feel – the intense heat of the flames of the candles as I reached out to grab them, giving a hot feeling followed by a heavy under the bottom and arm feeling as Mum whipped me away. She always stops me from fully experiencing life.

 

Next time we saw Grandad he was a year older and we went to Thomasland supposedly a birthday treat for Ewan, Grandad and ME. “Thomas Land At Drayton Manor - Under 2's Go Free”. Rightfully so, for believe me it was no fun for me. I needed to show it in my face. It was tough but I think I managed it. I just hope the rest of my up and coming birthday has more fun to offer me than Thomasland.

 

We had a hour long drive stuck in what now I realised is an old car. All the family was waiting at Thomasland to meet us. Fortunately Grandad was there. Me and him are on the same wavelength. I knew he would look after me.

 

They never took me on a ride. I wish they had, it would have broken the monotony. Coo it was so boring sitting in my pushchair. Too boring even to sleep. Mum and Grandad took me to sit in the basket of a hot air balloon near James the Engine. That lifted me!

 

We went round the zoo, I found the reptile house disappointing. I need to touch and taste the snakes, frogs, crocodiles and lizards to get the complete experience. Even the apes had found it so boring they’d climbed a ladder and gone. (See Photo of the Week).

 

Then I was allowed to go on my first ride. It was amazing. Thomas’ friend took us back from the zoo to the main station and I loved it. Of course I have seen Thomas on TV so I knew exactly how to sit and look out of the window. I saw ostriches, Santa’s reindeer and even Thomas himself. That really was so exciting.

 

Once back at the station we came to Bertie Bus. By now it was only 3.00pm mid afternoon but I was allowed to go on him too. Life was beginning to look good and put a smile on my face.

 

I have been on a bus before, quite a few times, the No.1 Coddington to Newark bus. So I knew what to expect.

 

The problem was Bertie Bus went up into the air. That was breathtaking, I just was not expecting it. I’ve never known the No.1 do that. Maybe I was sleeping at the time. I have watched lots of Thomas the Tank and Friends on TV. And I must say I have missed the one when Bertie goes in the air. I think you call it an airbuses. It was brilliant being so high up with the birds, clouds and the stars and we could see for miles around, well, 100 metres, at least.

 

Finally, Mum bought me a book about one of Thomas’ friends called George. I do not quite see the relevance, apart from its name as it is a steamroller. What is she implying, do you know?

 

I think I’m bored again now. In the words of Cousin Ewan, Bye Bye.

 

 

 

2. A One Year Old's Blog by GEORGE

 

 

©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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