Category: Paternal Thoughts

I was watching the bedtime story on CBeebies with the Little Monkey last week, and was pleasantly surprised that it was read by Floella Benjamin. She looked pretty much exactly how I remember; she’s barely aged a day since Play School in the eighties. I was pleased because I rather like it when happy memories…

In my last post, I wrote about how the Little Monkey tells us when an animal noise is, in his opinion, “not right”. I thought I was being clever when, on being told that my elephant trumpeting was not up to snuff, I responded to my young critic with “Daddy’s not very good at elephants;…

When I last wrote about the Little Monkey’s communication skills, about a year ago, he was just about signing “more”. Now, the 50-odd signs he knew have fallen by the wayside, in favour of increasingly complex, and charming, phrases and sentences. I think the longest sentence to date is “Mummy said ‘Oh my word, it’s…

A monkey’s-eye view of dinner time, as the lad tucks into some duff. The music’s not especially apt, but its running time fitted perfectly with the pictures, and it is quite a lovely song. If you’re watching in expectation of a big pay-off at the end, you’ll be disappointed, this here is your cinéma vérité,…

The Little Monkey, rather sensibly, is none too keen on playing in the snow; the snap below is the best one I got before the tears arrived. Still, he enjoyed watching his father making a snowman from the comfort of the warm dining room. To compensate for the lack of adorable Little-Monkey-in-the-snow pictures, here’s a video…

The Little Monkey’s comedic potential begins to be realised…

Knopflerian skills, and the voice of an angel. Is there no end to this Little Monkey’s talents?

It’s amazing how some tiny toothy-pegs can transform one’s perception; they make it seem like the Little Monkey is no longer a baby, even if he isn’t quite toddling unaided yet. I think it helps that he has recently crossed a threshold in both making himself understood, and being able to respond to us and…

We spent the Little Monkey’s first birthday in Dublin, so the poor boy didn’t get a proper party, but he did get a day out at the beach, fish and chips, and some cake (liberally adorned with fruit, which got scarfed down first…)