Ladies and Gentlemen. I give you J's bedside table.
I feel this tells you a lot about him.
The books? One autobiographical. One aspirational.
Which is which?
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Karen, who writes the excellent Just Good Enough Mum blog tagged me to complete this questionnaire. Never one to shirk a challenge here we go:
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My sister in law isn't great with presents.
OK, she's terrible with presents.
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J's not very good at modern communication.
No, not very good at it at all.
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Oh God. I'm not funny today.
I've tried to be funny. Really. I have. I'm just not.
I've sat in front of the screen for exactly three hours. Nothing. Humour free zone!
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The concept of Easter - it's tough for a child isn't it.
Why does the date move about?
What have eggs? And Chocolate? And Bunnies? And Chicks? And Chocolate Eggs, Chicks and Bunnies, got to do with Jesus' crucifixion and resurrection?
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Things always come in threes don't they?
Three things have stopped me blogging for the last couple of days and will stop me doing so for the next few as well.
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I always thought I was adopted.
No, really, I did.
Until I was about 15.... Oh, OK 37., I was quietly certain I was the long lost scion of a minor European royal house.
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I thought I was pretty good at negotiation.
I've had a successful business career. That involved negotiating with people. I have been very active in politics, a borough councillor, a parliamentary candidate, a candidate for police commissioner. All of those roles involved negotiation. Lots of it.
Nothing prepares you for negotiating with a toddler though. Oh No.
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Snot!
No one warns you about the snot.
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Sadly, I have to announce that J and I have not been sleeping together for the last week.
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Ever been in charge of a toddler?
If you have you will be used to the one questioning word they use. Incessently.
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I was reminded this evening by a very funny throw-away comment on twitter about an incident I'd thought was long forgotten.
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The transition in our daughter once she had her feet under the table was remarkable and deserves it's own post over on the adoption pages. Suffice it to say, it has been a bumpy, enjoyable, frustrating, amazing ride.
One thing we hadn't anticipated was her very. No. VERY firm opinions on what she wears.
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I was going to write a blog about Grumpy Deaf Grandad today. But then today happened and I thought an update on my attempt at cooperative parenting would be more appropriate.
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Dear Children
I wanted to write you this note to explain the word co-operation to you.
Cooperation is what happens in families. Particularly in the morning. When Dad has already left for work. It's how families work. It's how they ensure certain family members get to play on the X-box or iPad regularly.
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My Dad lives in a sheltered housing development.
The development comprises a number of bungalows, very pleasantly situated around a central lawn, shared as a communal garden by the residents.
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That Peppa Pig. She has A LOT to answer for.
I have to admit she has been my saviour on more than one occasion. Providing distraction and entertainment while I have taken urgent phone calls, answered emails in a timely fashion and finished much needed household chores.
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