Thursday, 26 November 2009
Ben now has two weapons in his footballing armoury - the kick and the header.
He's been belting his soft, 1980s-style, black-and-white ball around the living room for weeks now, making contact more often than not and getting it to go, well, fairly straight.
He's definitely a dominant right-footer, no doubt.
That's a shame, as the reason why England can't get past the quarter finals of a major footballing tournament at the moment is because of a lack of decent lefties, and Northern Ireland just need more decent players full stop.
So I thought I'd throw a new skill into the mix tonight - heading.
I grabbed the ball and gave Ben a brief tutorial before asking him to copy me. He did. Perfectly. And every time thereafter.
I should say, though, a Ben header is more like a foul throw.
The ball rests on the head, held by both hands. The body then tilts forward in a bowing motion before the ball is released from the hands and rolls off the head hitting the ground below.
I called Mummy in to give her the good news. Ben was then giving out kicks and headers on demand. Mummy joined in too.
I'll have to buy him one of those cheapy, plastic, 'fly-away' balls soon to muck around with in the park. He'll love that.
But there's only one shirt I'll be throwing on Ben.
No, not the red of those pathetic Merseysiders, but the green & white of Northern Ireland. Our Wee Boy could be running out for Our Wee Country one day.
***PS. If you want to see the wall mural pictured above in all its glory, double-click on it.
Both boys shared their first bath tonight.
Ben graduated from baby bath (pictured) to big bath ages ago, and bursts with excitement every night when his bath time comes around.
This cocky post-graduate isn't afraid to kick, splash, jump and swim around, and took to the water tonight with his usual armoury of rubber bath toys - pirate, duck, sailor - you know the kind of thing.
But there was a not-so-cocky undergraduate lurking in the shadows tonight.
Almost 7 months old now, younger brother Ciaran was in his nursery and stripped ready for bed when Daddy had an idea.
Ciaran has always enjoyed his little bath - Mothercare, standard issue, white - and seemed perfectly at ease in it as well as now filling most of it with his seven-month-old bulk.
So it occurred to me - why not put him in the big bath with Ben and see how he gets on?
Mummy whisked Ciaran off his nappy mat and into the bathroom.
Ben looked shocked initially but this quickly turned to excitement, as he began splashing and splashing and splashing, demanding that we put Ciaran into the bath with him. Is he a mind-reader?
Ciaran permanently looks shocked at the moment, so it was hard to work out what he was thinking.
I gently lowered Ciaran into the bath feet first, before laying him on his back supported by my hands under hand and bottom.
Ciaran still looked shocked but Ben was loving it.
He'd never had a toy as big as this in the bath with him, and tried to share his little bath toys with his brother. Ciaran passed these offers up though, one after the other.
He prefered to lay there on his back in what's best described as the sun-burnt, English package holiday-maker pose. All that was missing was the lilo and the cocktail.
So, the joint bath venture was a big success. Ben didn't want Ciaran to go, and Ciaran didn't cry.
He certainly wasn't afraid of the big bad bath, that's for sure.
Wednesday, 25 November 2009
And while we're on the subject of updates...
It's been over three days now since the ceasefire was declared, and our living room carpet is breathing a huge sigh of relief.
That's right, the carpet is beginning the long road to recovery following a debilatating few weeks where it has been subjected to, at times, horrific treatment at the hands of Ben's ill-trained toiletry habits.
The good news is that there are no signs of the ceasefire being broken and, since Sunday afternoon, Ben has managed to guide his missiles into his potty flawlessly.
Some say the living room carpet has never had it so good.
I say they're fools. It's still a mess, and it may be some time before it is restored to a decent state again.
It might be time to call in the industrial carpet cleaners.
Quick update on the family.
Ciaran cut his second tooth tonight.
I had him in a fit of laughter and noticed a little white tooth had broken through at the front of his bottom row, right beside the first one. Isn't that how it always is?
His face has been as red as the fiery infernos of Hades in recent days, so this comes as no great surprise. I tell you, if we have a power cut - which is well overdue by the way - I want Ciaran sitting right beside me.
Shame Halloween's gone. We could have plonked him outside the house and that would have saved me having to churn out a pumpkin.