Tuesday, September 24, 2013

a poem about my day

Pushing the pram against the wind,
the wind pushes back
and presses an insect against my chest
like a tiny brooch.

Saturday, September 21, 2013

spring


The mulberry tree in our front garden is fruiting and the birds and I are racing to get the ripe fruit first. If you've never tasted mulberries, they have a subtle sweet flavour that makes me think of greenness and  growing. The taste is evocative for me; my great-aunt and -uncle had a mulberry tree in their huge (in my memory, at least) back yard. I have a clear memory of standing in the bathroom in front of the mirror, crushing mulberries in my mouth so that the juice ran down my chin, so I could see what I'd look like as a vampire. Clearly Peanut would be a very messy vampire.

Saturday, September 14, 2013

this baby is finally paying off

I love vintage Fisher Price toys. The Chatter Telephone, the little people: classic, adorable design. Sometimes I get lost in an eBay hole looking them up, but they can get really expensive. When Grug emailed me to let me know that Fisher Price have rereleased some of their classic toys from the 1960s and 70s, my first thought was, "I'm so glad I have a baby right now so I can pretend I'm buying these for him!"

The record player and the TV are adorable, but I restricted myself to the two that I think will get the most play, not the ones that would look best on my shelves. I cannot live without this milk wagon, and I think the sorting and removing and replacing will be fun for Peanut:


AND IT HAS CHOCOLATE MILK. AND ORANGE JUICE. And I cannot resist the idea of Peanut banging away on this piano like Schroeder:


We're going to give them for him for Christmas, which seems fitting as neither the toys nor the holiday are really for him at this age, they're all about us pretending they're for him.

My mum also found him an old Chatter Telephone which he likes, although he would have absolutely no idea what it is. I love the idea of babies playing with toy versions of completely obsolete technology. Someone less lazy should write an essay about it.