Nursery Nonsense: part one

OK, I promised myself I wouldn't do this, but the pickings are just too rich.  Here we go - nursery rhymes - what the fuck?

I find myself mindlessly singing them to the baby, out of a sense that children should know nursery rhymes, and one I started with was Hey Diddle Diddle.

To refresh the memories of anyone who hasn't recently had a child:

Hey diddle diddle the cat and the fiddle.
The cow jumped over the moon.
The little dog laughed to see such fun
And the dish ran away with the spoon.

Now the baby is fourteen weeks old.  She knows practically nothing.  She can't tie her shoelaces, hasn't got a job, and hasn't even realised that the baby in the mirror is her.  Silly baby.  It's not her fault, of course, and it's our job as parents to fill her empty little head full of useful knowledge.  How to read a bus timetable.  How to calculate compound interest.  Why it's important that you follow the Shakespearean rhyme scheme when writing your own sonnets.  The important things in life.

Bearing this in mind, you would think that nursery rhymes would lend themselves to helping children understand the world around them, to cope with this strange and unfamiliar world.  But no.  What we learn from the above is:

- Cats can play the violin.  Now the baby may actually have an idea of what a cat is.  Because of Monty Cat.  But he doesn't play the violin.  Although I have frequently threatened to turn him into violin strings on several occasions.

- Cows can jump.  She has no concept of what a cow is.  But the one thing she will be sure of when she meets one is that they can jump.  And also that the moon is close enough for a cow to jump over.  Astro Cow.

- Dogs have a sense of humour - and a slightly odd one at that.  They find cats playing the violin and cows jumping over the moon bloody hilarious.  Oh, also, she has no concept of what a dog is.  Other than the fact that they laugh.

- Dishes and spoons - this is probably the most disturbing.  Not so much the - some would say - unnatural match (shouldn't a spoon run away with another spoon?  Or does that make me homophobic?  Or just wanting species-specific relations?  It's a complicated moral tangle); it's more the fact that the baby sees dishes and spoons every day.  And we put them in the dishwasher.  This must seem to her like abject cruelty.  Essentially the plot to Romeo and Juliet is happening every day in front of her little baby eyes, as the two lovers are systematically drowned by Mummy and Daddy.  Oh, also she's learned that crockery can elope.

All useful things for her later life, I'm sure you'll agree.  Perhaps I'll stick to singing her bus timetables in the future.

Baby steps

So it's been forever since I've Plogged.  I have been racking my brains for a suitable subject, but the sad truth is that once you have a baby, there is nothing else to talk about.  This is because every waking moment and quite a lot of the sleeping ones are spent looking after a baby.  It doesn't leave much time for experiencing non-baby things.  So whilst I could Plog loquaciously about breastfeeding cafes, nursery rhymes, various nappy brands (and nappy contents), I do try to remember that my core readership probably doesn't give a stuff about any of that.  So I should try and find a separate topic.  Something not related to babies.  And hence lies the problem.  Because, as referenced previously, there is currently very little in my life which isn't related to the baby.

So forgive me, if you will, for sharing this slightly baby-related Plog.  Our baby does not like to sit down.  She likes to be on the move.  This would be great if she was actually able to do any of this stuff for herself.  Sadly, we, her willing servants seem to need to step in.  Her favourite way of being ported around the house is with this baby carrier.

Now, whilst I look relatively confident here, what with the baby, the carrier and all, those of you who know me well or have followed the Plog for a while, will know my total inability to follow any kind of three-dimensional instruction or drawing.  So whilst TheBloke (TM), can heft this thing onto his shoulders and plug the baby in in about three seconds, it takes me about half an hour to work out how to put it on, and another fifteen minutes to be sure the baby isn't in upside down.

So I spend a lot of time referring to the instructions.  And often, as I'm holding the item upside down, the instruction label is also upside down.

And this - dear Ploggers - is when I realised that the baby carrier instructions are essentially pornographic.

They appear to be instructions for putting a condom on.  Too little, too late.

Losing the plot

For many years, I've wanted to write a book.  Ever since I was a teenager, I've fancied myself as something of a writer... albeit I'm too lazy to actually follow through with any type of plot or long term endeavour.  There's always an excuse - a busy day job, moving house, upcoming holiday, baby.  There's always something.

I did naively hope that maternity leave would provide me with the space and time to undertake some sort of writing endeavour.  In actuality, even the simplest blog post means I have to type like this.


Having said that though, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm sitting on a bestseller, without the need for all that sticky, tricky plot, character development and actual writing malarkey.

Baby books.  This is definitely the way forward.  Keen to foster in our child my love of literature, I went out and bought her the most highly recommended baby book for her age group.  It's called Pets and has four and a half stars out of five on Amazon. It cost about £4.00, so a bit cheaper than most adult books, but still, if I sold several million of them at this price, I reckon I'd still do OK.

So, why do I think I could write one of these books?  Well, here is every page of Pets.  SPOILER ALERT!

So, in case you needed a recap, that was: front cover (mirror), Dog, Rabbit, Cat, the end.  Seriously?  Seriously?  Even if you were using this book to teach animal noises, the author kind of throws you a curve ball there with Rabbit.  What a load of old tosh.

And how easy to write yourself?  So, here is my new children's book.  It's called Pets 2 and is twice as long as the original.

Guinea Pig.  Goldfish.  Hamster.  Gerbil.  Pony.  Mouse.  (Insert crap drawings and a few spots and stripes).

Piece of piss.  Can I get an advance please, Mr Publisher?  I reckon we can sell it for at least £8 as it's so much longer than the original.