a child’s mind

Wandering the supermarket aisles I found myself with the words “gee up, gee up. gee up horsey, neigh, neigh, neigh” and “clap hands, clap hands, clad hands ’till Daddy comes home” streaming through my brain and not much else. Grandma brain?

Transitioning from Baby Town to Adult World, and on Monday Back to School is proving a dizzing process. Two weeks of vacation time have flown by and now a new school term is about to begin. First day back we have to remain until 6.30 for workshops so we are being thrown in the deep end from the start.

Petit Fille received her first immunisations on Thursday. A needle in each leg and an oral vaccine as well. It is a case of being cruel to be kind. Baby screamed, utterly shocked and betrayed and her Mummy cried too. Grandma tried to comfort Mummy as Mummy comforted baby but we all felt sad. Petit Fille was clingy for a couple of hours afterwards but appears to have had little issue except for two sore patches on her legs. Mummy and Grandma were emotional wrecks for the rest of the day!

Petit Fille has two Grandmothers who love her very much. Her paternal grandmother is more reserved and cultured in her approach which worried me at time. Daughter1 says I am more “natural” with Petit Fille. It makes me wonder what opinion Petit Fille is forming…

How FD views her image with Petit Fille...

How FD views her image with Petit Fille…

and possibly how Petit Fille really views Grandma FD…

3 thoughts on “a child’s mind

  1. Poor grand-baby. That’s why I could never be a nurse. I wouldn’t be able to poke a baby. I dread the day when I have my own child; I would have to bring my husband with me, otherwise I wouldn’t even let the nurse give her shots. XD


  2. You’ll be the fun grandma. Everyone needs one of these. My maternal grandmother was very reserved and dignified, and being around her was about as fun as a visit to the cemetery. My paternal grandmother was much more earthy: she couldn’t speak English but she knew all sorts of terms for “poop.” She had chickens and vegetables and fruit trees, and burned things in bonfires and had an old barn that still smelled of horses and hay. We used to get all dusty and muddy looking for frogs and tadpoles, or trying to catch butterflies and other insects on her farm. We were also always greeted by bottles of ice cold Pepsi and tons of snacks that my children would recoil at now. (Oh, how innocent we were! I had no idea I was consuming poison when I ate potato chips, cheese puffs, and Twinkies.) She also lived a lot longer than the staid grandma. Perhaps there’s something to be said for being down to earth.


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