The Sunday Parenting Party - Rediscovering Museums

On this weeks Sunday Parenting Party I'm delighted to have a guest post by my very own Hublet

(Goblin is 4 and likes cake)

(Apologies, this is a bit of a rambling Hublet post rather than my normal attempts at humour)

One advantage of Goblin being a bit older now is that we can start dragging him round places we always intend to visit as adults.  Generally these are attractions that we enjoyed as children but failed to go to despite living and working in London for years.  By lucky coincidence, he is inquisitive enough to enjoy some of this experience.

Goblin had been asking about whales recently (see Monko's earlier post on the aquarium) and I thought he might like to get an idea of how big they are.  I remember visiting the Natural History Museum in London as a child and being amazed at their life sized model of a blue whale, so it seemed the obvious choice.

One big advantage of commuting into London for work is that I have a season ticket for the train, so it doesn't cost anything to wander to the station on a whim and take a trip to the big smoke. Some days we don't even get that far and just ride up and down the line on the empty trains during the day.  This time we had a destination in mind though.

Our first attempt at visiting was a failure.  It was half term here, so obviously I decided that a Tuesday morning was a great time to go and visit one of the most popular tourist attractions in the capital.  We had a lovely journey on the train to London, then on the tube round to South Kensington things started to fall apart.

Goblin hasn't been napping recently, just getting really tired around 10:30am so I thought the 20 minute trip on the underground would be a good time to sit and relax.  He wanted to look at my phone (which I was using for directions) but was getting increasingly annoyed that the games I had weren't to his liking.  He grumpily had a go at Angry Birds until we started to approach our stop.

At this point I put my phone away, this was not an action Goblin approved of.

I managed to lead him off the train while he was still in the confusion of "What is going on?  Where is the phone?  What did you do to the birds of ill temper?" but then once on the platform the Irrational Tantrum(TM) kicked off.

There was the usual assortment of lying on the floor, hitting, screaming and utterly failing to listen when I asked what was wrong.  Normally he will calm down after a little while but he was just worked up into a tired grizzling frenzy.  This was all happening on a tube platform which was rammed with parents, buggies and children so eventually I gave him an ultimatum.  He had until I counted to ten to calm down or we wouldn't be going to the museum.

I counted to ten.

Goblin did not calm down.

So I walked him straight over to the other platform going back the way we came.

I am not sure who was more surprised, Goblin or the other parents.  Clearly following through is not a common occurrence for some families.

Goblin very soon pulled himself together and was able to tell me why we weren't going to the museum that day, which was good in a way, but didn't help much as we were now in London but still in "consequence" mode.  

(Look kids, Big Ben! Parliament!)

I had an idea though of something we could do which might be unintentionally fun.  I was due to work the next day, and was planning on popping into my office first thing in the morning to get my laptop for an off site meeting.  I decided that I could ostensibly "go into work and get my laptop" but make it something fun at the same time.  I work just behind parliament so Goblin got to go into my office, meet some of my colleagues, and then we walked back up Whitehall to Trafalgar square to get a bus back home.  Visiting daddy's office for the first time was nice, although the size and security to get in was a bit intimidating for him and he was rather disappointed to learn that work just entails sitting at a desk and typing.  We travelled back to the station on the top of a double decker bus having seen the soldiers at horseguards and looked forward to attempt two.

This happened a week later, it was not half term which made the whole thing easier.

We had another nice trip down on the train where Goblin met an elderly lady who was going to meet some friends.  The two of them chatted away happily for the whole journey, talking about spitfires (which the lady remembered flying over her house in the war).

This may be a British thing, but we don't talk to strangers, particularly on the train.  Goblin doesn't adhere to this rule and it was really nice seeing him engage with someone so openly, I sometimes wish we could do this as adults.  I then remember that I loathe everyone and the thought goes away.

I will skip the boring journey bits and go straight to the museum in a smash cut.

*Exterior - Museum*

HUBLET STARES IN AWE AT THE VICTORIAN EDIFICE

GOBLIN ASKS IF HE CAN EAT A PIGEON

Upon entering the museum it became clear we were going to have to limit our visit.  It is a vast place with so much to see that we first stood in front of the map and made a plan, which was very quickly disregarded in favour of letting out feet guide us.

(Part of the blue whale model is in the background)

The museum is made up of some large galleries containing large displays and specimens, the rest is made up of hundreds of cabinets filled to bursting with stuffed animals.

Victorian England wasn't big on conservation, but they were experts at travelling the world, finding new species, then mercilessly slaughtering them to put on display.

It was quite tricky to explain stuffed animals to Goblin.  Not because he is squeamish, or because I wouldn't tell him the truth, but because it is actually an odd concept.

"Yes, they are real animals, they are just dead and filled with sand"

"No, they aren't really models, that is the real animal skin"

"Some of them still exist, some are extinct, but they did all exist at some point"

"Yes, all the birds in the cabinet of disembodied heads are dead"

"I have no idea what they did with the bodies"

"Yes, while unlikely, it is possible the scientists might have eaten them"

This is where I got to see just how inquisitive Goblin is, particularly in comparison to the groups of school children who were also visiting.

I don't know if it is something to do with the school kids being in groups, being afraid to appear stupid, or just these ones being less inquisitive, but Goblin was coming out with some amazing questions.  

"Why is that egg pointy at the end?"

"Why aren't there giant birds?"

"What are the feathers made of?"

"Which of these animals can people eat?"

(I am pleased to note that Goblin seems to have inherited my Animal=Dinner mentality)

The school children seemed interested but just followed their teachers in a line listening to what they were told.  I hope we can keep Goblin inquisitive, I suspect his teachers may disagree.

We eventually found the room with the large mammals, these were mainly models (which led to another barrage of questions on real vs stuffed vs model vs edible) but were great for showing scale.

Goblin stood for half an hour asking about each of the whales and dolphins in this display alone.  They have some great interactive points too explaining how echolocation and migration patterns work.

Goblin said the whale was very big, but he thought a B52 was bigger. which I couldn't deny.

After refuelling in the museum cafe, we then headed out to a few more areas of interest.  The dinosaur exhibit was an utter failure for us as it is very noisy, so Goblin spent the whole time covering his ears and hiding from the animatronic T-Rex.  
The concept of long periods of time is obviously lost on him too.  When I tried to explain how long ago dinosaurs lived we managed to get back as far as the time when Mummy and Daddy were little, but Goblin was not sure that time existed prior to this.

Strangely the creepy crawlies section was a big success with lots of great questions from Goblin.  

He believed me that the giant robot scorpion wasn't alive, but quite sensibly he refused to turn his back on it, just in case.

I find it hard not to push my ideas of what is interesting upon him in a place where I visited as a child.  I tried my hardest to articulate the marvel of the slice of giant Giant Sequoia in the main gallery but he just wanted to look at the pine cones.  I just have to accept we find different things entertaining.

We finished the visit with a look at the outdoor ice rink they put up every winter. 

I had twisted my knee running the day before so couldn't take him for a skate which disappointed him, but maybe we can do that on our next trip.

*****

<center> </center> <center> <a href="http://www.tamingthegoblin.com/search/label/The%20Sunday%20Parenting%20Party"><img border="0" src="http://i.imgur.com/jE1LK.jpg"/></a></center> </center> <center> My faves from last week include The Mompetition is us ~ PricklyMom No, Don't and othe bad words ~Sand in my Toes Why I don't like the baby stage ~ Dirt and Boogers  5 Ways to Build up your Toddlers ~ Pint Sizes Treasures

Welcome to The Sunday Parenting Party, hosted by Dirt and Boogers, Play Activities, Crayon Freckles, Taming the Goblin, The Golden Gleam, Prickly Mom, and The Tao of Poop. The SPP is place for readers to find ideas on nurturing, educating, and caring for children, as well as honest posts about the stresses of being a parent or caregiver. Links to reviews and giveaways are welcome as long as they are relevant to the topic. All parenting philosophies are welcome with one exception: please do not link to posts promoting physical discipline, as this is something we would feel uncomfortable having on our blogs. (P.S. By linking up you agree that your post and photos are Pinterest, Sulia, G+ and FB friendly. We will be showcasing ideas on The Sunday Parenting Party Pinterest board.)

The SUNDAY PARENTING PARTY is a parenting link up, please don't link craft posts. 

The Sunday Parenting Party - Conveying basic information

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Its the Sunday Parenting Party. Please link up your parenting posts and have a look at what others have linked. I'm sure you will find something you like. This week I'm linking a guest post by my Hublet - enjoy:

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Conveying basic information

(Goblin is getting way too old for this shit)

Hublet again after a long gap.  Just fill in the intervening months with a variety of baking and Lego based antics. Goblin is three and a half now.  He is intelligent, wilful and highly amusing. 

Unfortunately, at the least opportune times he is terrible at following basic instructions.

I am sure that the majority of the problem comes from us, we can expect too much, or we can assume that something we think is simple is also simple to a young mind.  It doesn’t make it any less infuriating when the smoke alarm is going off, the floor is covered in broken glass and your child is trying to feed a hosepipe through the cat flap.

Here are some which have recently been driving me mad:

Stay still...

No matter how ill or injured he is, Goblin will decide that the best time to run and touch everything in sight is when he is either: Covered in sick; covered in poo; surrounded by broken glass; or wielding a dripping ice cream.  The very best way to make him instantly bolt is to look him in the eyes and shout “STAY STILL!”.  It is like he knows that something good must be about to happen.

Don't touch that...

I have to admit, that I am as guilty as Goblin with this one.  Put me near a large red button marked “DO NOT PRESS” and my hand will start creeping towards it like Father Dougal on an aeroplane.

Goblin is the same with anything which we really not want him to get his hands on but will look at us like a dog asked to do maths when we say “DON’T TOUCH THAT!” (usually leading on to a “STAY STILL”). Examples of this have included:  Pools of cat sick, hot saucepans, spicy food, unknown brown goo found on the train, and anything in a public toilet.

Just this week we were in the toilets at a shopping centre, we both went into a cubicle, Goblin did a wee, then we swapped out.  Despite me saying “Don’t touch the lock, you can touch anything else in here as we are going to wash your hands anyway, but don’t touch the lock.  You are touching the lock, you are still touching it, stop touching it, no, one finger still counts, just stop.”  Of course you know exactly what he spent the whole time trying to fiddle with.

Do you remember what happened last time...

I understand that Goblin is still experimenting with the world, and I try to let him do that.  I don’t think there is any harm in helping him remember previous experiences in the hope that he might consider changing his actions though.  Usually, Goblin has an amazing memory and will alter his behaviour accordingly, but there are a few things that he is totally goldfish like about:

• Biting the bottom off an ice cream cone.  Yes, you are free to do it, but you do it every time and  complain that the ice cream is dripping out.
• Mixing all the paints together.  It will end up brown.  If you are happy to just have brown paint that is fine, but every other time you have complained that you no longer have multiple colours.

Maybe next time he will remember what happened the previous ten times we went through this.

We can’t do that...

Goblin does struggle with the difference between “I won’t do that” and “I can’t do that”.  I have spent a depressing amount of time convincing Goblin that some things just aren’t practical or physically possible.

Common examples of this include:

• No we can’t go to nursery today.  We only pay for you to go on a certain day so we can’t just turn up.  Also it is a Saturday so the nursery is closed.  And, it is 8pm....
• No we can’t go and see Nanny.  Goblin won’t listen that she is currently on holiday in the USA, if he pleads and whines enough maybe he will just convince me to change my mind.
• A slightly baffling one was when eating a 99 cone with a chocolate flake in it.  Goblin wanted to eat the flake, but still wanted the flake to be in the ice cream.  He just got increasingly frustrated that I couldn’t make these two contradictory situations simultaneously true.

I think children become so used to parents being able to do things outside their understanding that they assume we are omnipotent.

Pointing

My final challenge is with pointing things out.  Goblin seems to entirely forget the whole concept of pointing and looks utterly baffled when I am trying to get him to see the nearby sports car.

“Look there,  no,  there,  where I am pointing. The thing that looks like your red car,  it is red,  and car shaped.  Look at the end of my finger,  it is pointing towards a car, my finger is next to a thing,  look,  just there.   I am touching it now,  I don't know how how else to tell you where it is.”

With all these things, all I can do is try and stay calm, and remember he is still learning about the world, our language, and the basics of vocal intonation.

And now to the linky

The Sunday Parenting Party: Our Birth Story - The Daddy's side

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Its time for the Sunday Parenting Party. Please link up your parenting posts - anecdotes, how to, trials and tribulations we want them all, old and new. This week I am linking a post by Hublet:
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Our Birth Story: The Daddy's side. 
(Writing about when Goblin was -0.033 months) 

Hublet filling in again, it feels like I am the other Becky and everyone is acting like nothing has changed...

WARNING - WALL OF TEXT AHEAD 

(TLDR: Monko gave birth) 

Over the past few years, when Monko has been telling others about the birth of Goblin, it has become clear that our recollections of the event seem to differ somewhat.

This is probably a combination of things, firstly it being different from each of our perspectives (as you will see soon, I was often chucked out and sent home by the nurses, 1800s style), but also I was pretty sleep deprived and Monko was dosed on opiates.

Since my memory is pretty flaky anyway, I thought it might be good to write down what I remember of Goblin's birth, if only so he can read it when he is bigger.

I will try and get events in rough order, so to begin with I will give some background of the birth plan prep during pregnancy.

As we are in the UK, we benefit from the wonderful NHS.

While it may not have the luxury and futuristic nature of private healthcare it is very good at keeping people alive without us having to worry about if we can afford the bill. The same goes for childbirth in the UK.

While you know you won't get a private room with a plasma TV, you do know that the important stuff will be done well.

Foreword 

During the early days of Monko's pregnancy we had hoped to have the birth in a local midwife run unit which has water birth pools and a more homely atmosphere while still being attached to a hospital in case something goes wrong.

We never considered a home birth, firstly because it seems like a lot of mess to deal with, but mainly because hospitals have all these crazy things like surgeons, operating theatres and pharmacies.

While your own pillows are nice, so is not dying.

This was all thrown out of the window though when Monko developed gestational diabetes and we were told that the birth would have to be in the proper district hospital.

This wasn't a big deal, particularly as I had started to get worried about the community midwives who seemed to randomly mix in pseudoscience with medicine.

An example was listing aromatherapy and TENS alongside epidural in their list of pain treatments. There is nothing wrong with placebos and making your room smell nice, but medical professionals really should give advice based on evidence.

I will add here that the actual midwives involved in the birth were really good, albeit very busy.  

Through a combination of the gestational diabetes, Monko's small hips, and my familial giant head, we were told that Goblin's head might not fit out so they were going to induce the birth at 39 weeks to prevent him requiring a C-section.

This was all rather fun, no panicked rush to the hospital, just an appointment to turn up first thing on the Friday.

I just had a look at our birth plan from the time, here are some amusingly unrealistic lines:

• "I would like to be free to walk around during labor." 
• "I will bring a laptop to entertain myself during labor." 
• "If a caesarian delivery is indicated, I would like to be fully informed and involved in the decision making process." 
• "I would like to choose the position in which I give birth." 
• "I would like to have the baby in the room with me at all times." 

So on to reality.

The build up

We turned up at the hospital on the Friday morning with much excitement.  Pretty soon the doctors would give Monko the magic drugs and Goblin would be popping out.

"We should be home by tea time" we said like WWI soldiers headed for the trenches.

We were welcomed on arrival, and shown to the day ward where Monko was given a bed to wait on until the doctor came to administer the inducement stuff.

And that is where we stayed.

Apparently all the labor rooms were full and they didn't want to induce Monko in case Goblin's head got stuck requiring an emergency c-section while they were busy.

I was prepared for this though and got out my laptop for a West Wing marathon.

This sitting around continued until about 6pm when Monko was admitted to the labor ward and finally given her first set of induction drugs.

I stayed until 9pm but nothing was happening as apparently these things aren't as fast as on television.  

This is where we get to my big area of irritation with the antiquated maternity ward mentality.

After sitting with my wife all day, she was finally induced and the hospital chucked me out as apparently men aren't allowed to stay on the ward.

It is rather baffling after trying to get fathers involved with childbirth and their children to send them away based on an arbitrary time.

I am not asking for them to use resources or beds on me, I just wanted to be allowed to keep sitting in the plastic chair already next to the bed while we wait for my son to be born.

Similarly I wasn't allowed to use the hospital toilet, use their tap to get a drink of water, and the hospital cafe was only open Mon-Fri 9am-5pm as apparently babies follow office hours so I wasn't able to buy a drink either.

Feeling like a pariah, I took the hours drive home rather annoyed at leaving my wife in hospital alone.  

By contrast, when my father was in a coma in intensive care with a brain injury the nurses let us camp out both by his bedside and in the waiting room. Even bringing us blankets which we didn't expect since our presence was utterly useless.  During the birth I could actually be some help to support Monko but apparently the best place for me was in a different town.

As expected I got a call from Monko at 6am the next day saying her waters had broken and labor had started.  Her waters had actually broken several hours before but the coven had decided that I still wasn't allowed on the ward until 6 in case my manliness displeased the old gods.

Sixteen minutes later I had completed the one hour drive and was dashing into the hospital to meet Monko being wheeled down to the delivery room.

Over the next 12 hours there followed a gradual escalation of swearing, drugs and medical staff.

Monko was 5cm dilated at 7am which seemed to be good going. She was in quite a bit of pain but started out managing it just using Entonox along with obscenities.

Due to the gestational diabetes and the induction, Monko was hooked up to a selection of drips. In one arm she had the induction drugs and the insulin, in the other she had glucose. This rather limited her movement and made toilet trips a rather entertaining waddling conga line with Monko, midwives, drip stands and myself.

As the pain got worse, and Monko wasn't dilating more they started her out on pethidine.

If you ever get the chance I highly recommend this stuff, I had it when having my appendix removed and had an exciting few hours talking to my knees in a world full of clocks.

The pethidine seemed to reduce the pain for Monko but also made her puke.

Amusingly in retelling her childbirth story Monko proudly told her friends that she wasn't sick at all. I had to explain that not only was she sick, the midwives actually ran out of sick bowls and had to retrieve more from another ward.

By about midday Monko was on a birthing ball having me massage her lower back rather hard. In fact the next day she was complaining that she had these odd bruises and asked how she might have got them, I think her exact words at the time were "Push f*cking harder! No, lower!". 

Some time later, Monko gave up and asked for an epidural. The doctor said she could do it now but suggested to give it another hour and let Monko have some more pethidine.

Monko still wasn't dilating much more (she was at about 6cm) so we were already prepared for a c-section but left it up to the doctors.

Another hour later, still lots of pain and no sign of boy.

I should note that all this time Goblin has been monitored with lots of sensors and has been happily beeping away, there wasn't much going on with him though other than not fitting out of the only available exit.

It was at this point that Monko broke and demanded her epidural.

A very apologetic matron came in and told us that the ward was now too busy (apparently they need to assign you an extra member of staff when you have an epidural) so she now couldn't have one.

Monko responded with her best civil servant subtlety:

"Are you F*CKING KIDDING ME!?"

Matron fled the dragon and managed to get another dose of pethidine approved above the normal limit.

A while later though a friendly eastern European anaesthetist came in and shoved the requested needle into Monko's spine and all was well with the world.

She had her 4th drip now and promptly fell asleep for the next 5 hours, only sometimes waking for contractions.

 Since there was nothing much I could do while she was asleep, I sat and read my book while the midwives refuelled on the traditional nurse staple of tea and toast.

At about 11pm (yes, we had been there a long time) the surgeon came in, noted that Monko had only dilated to 7cm and decided it was c-section time.

We next get to the issue of "informed consent".

Monko had to be told of the risks of this surgery and then sign the forms giving permission to do it. Unfortunately Monko was stoned off her mind.

This didn't stop the doctor from doing the brief in full despite me having to tell her several times that, since one side of Monko's face doesn't work properly, her eye doesn't close and she was currently asleep.

I listened to the various things the doctor was saying, but since there wasn't much of a choice to make I put the pen in Monko's limp hand and puppeted a signature on the form.

I did ask if I should sign the form myself as next of kin as she was clearly non compos mentis but I was told that Monko should as she wasn't actually in a coma. Which I am sure is of dubious legality.

Things then moved fast.

Monko was whisked off to pre-op and I was taken to the scrub room to change into surgical scrubs and white wellies (which was a little worrying).

Surgery was to be carried out by a tiny Indonesian lady called Mrs Tint Tint (British surgeons don't use the title Dr.).  Rather than worry about the surgery, Monko and I spent most of the few minutes waiting for the set up giggling about her name.

Operating theatres are pretty strange places, particularly for routine procedures. There were about 10 people in the room, but most were sitting around the edge listening to the radio. Apparently this normal as a regular c-section only takes a few people and the rest are just there in case there are complications.  

Monko was already in place on the table with a screen up hiding her belly from her view. I sat at the head end with the anaesthetist.

Since she already had an epidural in they were able to just up her drugs and start cutting!

 It only took a few seconds for them to have Monko open, originally she had wanted to have the screen lowered to watch Goblin being taken out but the pethidine was still making her nauseous so she didn't.  

I scooted round, mainly to see Goblin for the first time, but also a little bit because you don't often get to see your spouse's abdominal cavity. I saw a load of medical stuff and blood, but also a small pink person being lifted out.

Being pretty tired, I didn't click at the time that the staff were saying Goblin wasn't breathing and that this is a bad thing. By the time my brain caught up they had him on the warming table, had blown air into his lungs with a bag and he was shouting in a suitably stereotypical manner.

Another thing I didn't really see the sense of at the time was the nurse counting his fingers and toes and feeling for pallet holes. I now realise that it isn't really these kind of deformities which are the big concern, it is that they can indicate other internal issues.

Goblin was all fine though, he weighed in at 3.82kg (8lb 7oz) and officially emerged at 11:37pm. He was wrinkly, covered in red goo, coneheaded (from being rammed into Monko's cervix for 22 hours) and lovely.

 Monko was allowed to hold him while being stitched up, but passed him to me as she was still spacey from the drugs.

There then followed a small whirlwind of activity while we were moved back up to the postnatal ward.  Goblin was put in his babygrow, we were chastised by a midwife for not having brought a vest, and I was instructed to go out and buy the largest underpants in Christendom for Monko so as not to hurt her scar.

Since we were back in the land of the midwives, I was obviously thrown out of the hospital less than an hour after Goblin's birth, leaving Monko high as a kite and too sleepy to hold Goblin, meaning he had to be taken off to the baby room by a midwife.

It was nice to feel included.

During the night, Goblin's sodium levels dropped and he was put on a drip and moved to NICU. He was put in a side room though as they didn't want his giantness to upset the parents of all the tiny premature babies which made up the majority of the unit.

Confusingly, once Goblin was in NICU things were much easier for me to take part as a man. I could come and go as I wanted, there was a visitors room and crazy luxuries like a toilet. I was able to feed Goblin (they needed him to have formula so they could measure how much he was eating for his sodium levels), hold him, and change his nappy.

Monko on the other hand was stuck 3 floors up so had to be taken down to Goblin for visits. I was still sent home at nights which is very strange.

Home is still all the same but you feel rather guilty watching films or playing computer games because you can't sleep with your wife and child in hospital.

Aftermath

I won't bore you with the next few days, it was mainly us sitting around waiting to find out if Goblin's sodium would improve and what it actually meant.

He was released from NICU after a couple of days so was back in the room with Monko.

Our top UK hospital tip is to develop a mysterious rash while on the ward, requiring you to be moved to a private room in case it is contagious.

It seems Monko was just allergic to something but it did help her get some much needed rest in those first few days.

After 3 days the doctors decided that there was actually nothing wrong with Goblin and some people just have slightly lower sodium levels than others and we were able to go home.

I got to take a very nervous drive home with my precious cargo and we sat down on our sofa, looked at our lovely little caterpillar, and said..

What the hell do we do now?

*******

If you like Birth stories you can find my version of the same event here.

And here are my favourite posts from last weeks linky

Best advice I was ever given about toddlers by Early Play

I want to be the mum who climbs trees by One Perfect Day
Something to be proud of by Single At Home Mom
Getting ready for school by Happy Whimsical Hearts
Parents choices/beliefs overlapping to our children by Emmy's Mummy

And now to the linky

The Sunday Parenting Party

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Sorry to anyone who was looking for this post earlier today, due to our holiday I lost track of the days and forgot it was Sunday! Anyhow its time for another parenting gem and today I have a guest post from the wonderful Hublet. If you have never read any of his guest posts before you can find them here. 

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A Tale of Two Parents

(Goblin is very nearly 3)

We are often told that as parents you must work as a team providing a single message to your children to prevent confusion.

While this may be true, it does not alter the fact that you are different people with often disparate ideas on how to raise and entertain the kids.

This is particularly relevant in our situation as we don't have one parent working and one doing the bulk of the childcare as is often the case.  As the Monko has said, we each have 2 days alone with Goblin, 2 days together with him and 1 day where he is in nursery.

It has become clear that we have very different experiences on our days alone with Goblin.  With Monko there are play dates, art activities, music classes and nature trips.  

I on the other hand being an antisocial, geek, tend to play with Lego, go for walks, cook, climb trees and build forts.

I like that Goblin gets to do different things and am also glad that I don't have to drag myself along to the invariably titled "mother" and child groups.  

I can't tell if this is just teaching Goblin to continue my avoidance of social situations but then I remember the alternative would mean talking to people so quickly move on.

On our days together with Goblin we tread the middle ground.  We don't go and see other people but do go out to the zoo or other family outings.  It is also our chance to go to the shops for the traditional supermarket toddler tantrum.

In general though we have a pretty good split without arguments or stark disagreements on parenting decisions.

Our main areas of contention seem to be:

1. Following the advice of parenting books
   (Monko tends to read a book and for a short period will fanatically try and follow it, whereas my utter confidence in my own superior knowledge is only rivalled by my modesty)
2. Religion
   (Monko is a lapsed Catholic who seems to have settled on the 'meh' camp, I am a militant atheist with a tendency to make inappropriate comments which offend people)
3. Rainbow rice

I can not express this strongly enough how much I f*cking hate rainbow rice.

Here is a graph to help illustrate my feelings: 

Goblin seems to know this fact and insists on getting it out at every opportunity, particularly weekend mornings when I get up early so Monko can have a nap.

I am a sucker for his cute little face and dutifully get out the tarpaulin, diggers and tub of rice, only to watch him gleefully fling it about the room for me to tread on for the rest of the day.

Why does he torment me so? 

Then, just as a tub of rainbow rice reaches the end of its life and I gleefully get to dump it in the bin, I see another batch of the vile stuff drying on the table!

I would happily spend the day treading on discarded Lego and plugs if it meant freedom from rainbow rice!  Readers outside the UK will not have developed the cast iron feet required for living around British plugs which can in an emergency be used as caltrops.

I love my wife.  I can put up with her blind belief in the random rantings of unqualified opinionated loons, or the parenting books, but the rainbow rice will have to stay on her side of the fence.

In summary, if you partner (or grandmother, neighbour, nanny etc) does things differently with your child then it can be quite a good thing.   If only because it means you don't have to.

******

My top five posts from last week were 
Reality bites ~ Two-daloo
Why your baby (or Toddler) should get messy eating ~ Your Kid's Table
Let Them "Do it by Myself"~ Like Mama, Like Daughter
The Truth about Toddlers - The Cutie and the Beauty
My Strong Willed Child ~ Triple T Mum
These were posts either contained a message I totally agreed with or where posts I totally related to. You guys can grab a featured button from my button page. 

For your chance to be featured and to share your great parenting posts please link up this week - Here is the linky

Hublet and Boy cooking - Chocolate Spiders

(Goblin is 0 moths old)

An unhealthy cooking post you say?  It must be Hublet time again.

I will confess two things, that this barely counts as cooking and that Goblin did most of the work.

Today we will be making chocolate spiders.  Which Goblin was glad to learn does not mean arachnids dipped in chocolate (although, he is rather fond of chocolate so might have eaten a real spider anyway).

They are made of noodles covered in chocolate and peanut butter.

Please note, the below recipe may contain traces of nuts.  To reduce the risk, I recommend you have everyone present eat a spoonful of peanut butter to test for allergies.  If someone goes into anaphylactic shock they may be allergic to nuts and should not eat any of the chocolate spiders.

I had never heard of these until a British friend who is currently living in Australia mentioned them on facebook and I became intrigued.

Apparently they are quite a normal thing to make over there, particularly for kids as they don’t require cooking.

I didn’t know what proportions I was supposed to use, but this was my guess at a recipe:

One pack of instant noodles (flavour sachet removed, I don’t think chow mein spices would really go with it)

One 200g bar of milk chocolate (minus all the bits Goblin ate during production)

100g (ish) of peanut butter

Highly complex directions:

1 – Chuck the peanut butter and chocolate in a bowl and microwave until melted

2 – Crumble the noodles into the melted goo

3 – Mix

4 – Put dollops in a muffin tin

5 – Refrigerate

6 – Eat

I liked this activity more than regular baking though.  Goblin is still not great at following directions so the exact measurements needed for proper baking make it a bit stressful.

Anything involving an oven is also hard as Goblin wants to look at it all the time which cools the oven and risks him burning himself.

The most dangerous thing this had was slightly warm chocolate, the main risk of which is type 2 diabetes.

Goblin liked the different textures when breaking up the chocolate and the noodles, sometimes letting him destroy things in a controlled manner is enormously satisfying.

Putting the paper cases in the muffin tray was a nice challenging activity, particularly separating them out.

Spooning out the same amount into each paper case was fun too, I was able to get Goblin to work out which cases needed more put in to even them out (apparently the answer is: one case needs all the mixture).

Goblin even carried them to the fridge, but struggled a bit with the idea that they had to leave them in there for a prolonged period.

I’m not sure if this is how they are meant to turn out, but I thought they were delicious.  Sort of like crunchy Reeses Cups.

Goblin wasn’t too interested in eating them after all that, so Monko and I had to take one for the team and devour them.

To make up for it I made Goblin a blueberry cake while he was asleep.  It has 500g of blueberries in the cake, icing, and on top.  Which I am pretty sure makes it healthy.

I am not diet friendly….

Toodle pip

*****

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