Paul Davidson
Weeknotes 024: How do you want to do tonight?
I guess everyone in my RSS had a quiet Sunday at the same point last week. 
We started the week going round the houses dropping off homemade Mother’s day cards to the grandmothers before eating till regret. We texted later to explain what Piglet had drawn.
Grandma got so excited to hear of Lǎolao’s finger injury that she mandolined the tip of her finger off in homage.
After a year in the attic, I figured it would look better with a monitor riser and the laptop shovelled underneath. This kicked off a couple of hours worth of office tarting. The decade-and-a-bit old printer and speakers headed to the recycling. Then I got it into my head that it’d be a better use of space if I was against a different wall and I spent the week working from an Ikea kitchen cabinet to try it out. I’m moderately confident I don’t have ADHD.
The third time someone mentioned they were trying to touch their toes, I cracked and started too. I’ve made alright progress for 1 week and I’ll make a GIF when I touchdown. You’ll all get to see my pyjama bottoms. There’s something to look forward to in a few weeks.
We’re the kind of people who have a butter.
Piglet has stopped crawling up the stairs and started walking up like a normal human: one step at a time, holding nothing and muttering “strong” under her breath. Just like Dad. Which is terrifying given my past.
She dropped her first C-bomb this week. But then she started wearing her potty as a hat and slept through for 5 nights, so she’s forgiven. She also spent a day saying thank you to everyone and everything for anything.
When I go into the nursery in the mornings, I get a brain dump as a greeting. I’ve been told “Giants are really, really big” and asked “Breakfast? Would you like… toast? How about banana?”
Unless she’s supervised with an apple, she’ll eat the lot. Core. Seeds. The lot. It’s kind of impressive.
We might be raising her as the fun police. On the roundabout when another kid waved to their grandparent, she told her, “Two hands. Hold on tight.” It was not well-received. Later, when an older kid hopped on the infant swings before her, she calmly walked round, crossed her arms and gave her best fuck-off-now stare. Yes, the swearing is in the look. Worked too. She’s always smug on the swings, but that one was extra.
My usual weeknotes process is to remember a load of stuff after publishing and add that to ideas list. On Monday I’ll think of something new. Tuesday to Friday get ignored (as they should). But this Tuesday was our 3 year moving in-niversary. Tradition dictates KFC.
Is there anything more comforting than when your kid nestles right in when you’re reading stories together?
Hearing Grant Howitt wax lyrical about Parisian Dream, this week’s “new” album is Laura Veirs’ 2005 Year of Meteors