Dressing Gown

Here's G just out of the bath one evening, showing off her new dressing gown. It's actually a hand-me-down from someone we know, and as you can see she looks very pleased with it.

I stopped her for the picture just as she was about to go through the nightly ritual of picking out her bedtime story. She very much likes to do this herself now, and as you can see, uses a stool to help her reach. She often carries the same stool around downstairs with her, and also tries to drag one of the dining chairs into the kitchen if there's something she wants from one of the worktops. Sometimes, as she perches unsteadily, it seems a little bit dangerous. But until she grows a bit more, I can see that I'm going to have to get used to it.

Bookworm

Now that it's midsummer and it's still fairly light well past G's bedtime, she's taken to staying awake for a while after she's been put to bed. Walking past her bedroom in the evenings you can sometimes hear her reading her books out loud, presumably for the benefit of Dumbo, her little elephant sleep toy. She can't actually read, but she's heard the stories so many times before she's more or less word perfect on them.

Eventually she drifts off to sleep, but in the morning there's often a book or two lying around near her bed. This morning she really didn't want to get up at all, but the evidence of why she was so tired was clearly on display. Someone had obviously been up far too late reading James The Red Engine. Scandalous.

Deep Dark Wood

While Mrs J did a 10k run through the Forest of Dean in Saturday's sweltering heat, the two of us did something rather more pleasant and visited the area's newest attraction. It's a trail based on The Gruffalo book, one of G's favourite reads. This was a good idea partly because it was an opportunity to further encourage G's interest in books, and mostly because it was in the woods and therefore completely in the shade.

The trail itself features scenes from the book recreated by huge wood carvings. G toddled along to each one, identified the characters, recited a bit of the relevant dialogue to herself, then toddled on along the trail. She enjoyed it enough to be worth a return visit, not least because she's not really old enough to enjoy the adventure playground at the end.

Although G's language is improving all the time, she still has trouble with the word Gruffalo. "Gwoh-woh!" she says every time, just as she has done ever since I first read it to her ages ago. Back then a few sounds was all she could really manage, but now she could probably say it properly if she really put her mind to it. Or I could always try to persuade Julia Donaldson to change it for the next sequel. I'm so used to "Gwoh-woh" now, I think it's got a certain ring to it.

Magic Beans

For the last couple of weeks, G has often been talking about magic beans. "Magic beans!" she'd say, looking expectantly at me. I assumed they'd done Jack and the Beanstalk at nursery and she was repeating it back to me, something which she's done with other stories before.

Last night, G was chattering away about her magic beans again, and Mrs J realised what she actually meant. Magazine. She'd basically spent the last fortnight asking me to get her magazine, and having me completely ignore her. At times like this, she must think I'm a complete cretin.

Blow The House Down

Here's G on the swings at the playground in Uppermill last week. It was the day of the public sector strike, so it was unusually busy, although many of the children were being looked after by a selection of harassed-looking grandparents.

Now that G is at nursery two days a week, we don't go to the playground as often as we used to. Neither of us seem to mind too much, the slides and roundabout would get boring if we went every day, after all. But I'm increasingly becoming aware of things that G is picking up at nursery, which she then surprises me with at home.

The other day G woke up early. Not really that early as it happened, but it was a weekend and me and Mrs J didn't fancy getting up, so G came and sat between us in bed. I could hear her chatting away to herself, before she clearly said: "Big bad wolf... huff... huff... huff... house down!"

I looked at Mrs J: "You haven't taught her that have you?" She hadn't. G had obviously been hearing all about the Three Little Pigs at nursery.

I suppose I could be upset that I'm no longer responsible for everything G learns. But I'm really not. When you've read The Gruffalo as often I have, I'm grateful for anything that's even slightly different. And with G's mind expanding all the time, I'm glad for other things to help stimulate her, whether that's nursery or even CBeebies, the electronic babysitter in the corner. Keeping a curious toddler entertained is a team effort.

Hair Salon

I've been taking G for haircuts for a while, and the trip to one of the alarmingly many (for a village) salons in Uppermill for a quick tidy-up is now a fairly regular event. And a quick tidy-up is all it is, because Mrs J wants to grow G's hair out a bit. This is probably less essential now people have stopped mistaking her for a boy, but it should still look pretty when it's longer, which I suppose is just as important.

In the meantime, the process of the actual hair cutting is usually helped along by giving G a book. Not because I'm being all pushy and starting her young on the Russian classics, but actually because it's as good a way as any of getting her to tilt her head forward, allowing the hairdresser to trim around the back.

The salon has a stack of books for little ones for just this sort of task. So many in fact that they let G keep the one she's reading in the photo, because she seemed so fascinated by it. An eight-page story about Upsy Daisy from the baffling but strangely-captivating-to-toddlers In The Night Garden isn't exactly the complete works of Gogol. But she's got to start somewhere.

Busy Baby

G can't read yet, but she does have a few cardboard books, and she likes to sit and turn the pages. I caught her earlier staring intently at her Winnie the Pooh story about Kanga and Roo, particularly the page saying that wherever Kanga goes, Roo goes too. That could just as easily apply to us, because wherever I go, G has to come along as well.

And the two of us have been pretty busy this week, particularly yesterday. We went into Manchester for the day, and first I treated G to a trip to the Aquatics Centre so she could splash around in the toddlers' pool. Then we met Mrs J for lunch. And after that I pushed her up to the hotel where the In The City music conference has been taking place, so I could meet some friends.

I'd put G in her little Converse shoes so she could fit in a bit more easily with all the hipster music industry types. On the way she managed to be sick over them. As it turned out this actually helped her fit in even better, because there were quite a few hungover people still wearing the previous night's clothes strewn around the hotel bar. At least they were all old enough to know better.

G crawled around happily, playing peek-a-boo with random strangers and generally enjoying being the youngest person there by at least 20 years. I wondered whether the industry people thought she was some kind of music baby, such as Mick Jagger's latest love child. Or, as one of my friends suggested, the more likely option for a Manchester music event of a niece of a member of Doves. She was far too well-behaved to be a rock star baby though. Maybe if I take her again next year she'll have worked out how to throw a proper tantrum.