Pandy and Andy create a baby...

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Copy cat from Baghdad-end-of-Hampton

He walks.

He talks (well, kinda; the doctor and mothers group ladies are impressed with his "MUUMM!s" anyway).

He copies.

First it was the computer, typing away like mum and dad. But he's been doing that for ages and possibly cos he keeps thinking he'll find the "never smile at a crocodile" song again on Utube.

Then it was the shoes (and hats); trying to put them on after he'd yanked them off, just as mum and dad do.

And this was soon followed by finding the power cable for the laptop and, quite deliberately, wandering up to the 'puter on dads lap and trying to plug the cable into the back of it. (Ok, a power plug doesnt quite fit in a USB slot, but its full marks for trying.)

Thanks Mike. You're a scholar and a gentleman.

And finally it's the cooking.
Having watched mum and dad clink and clank away with pots and pans making him his mush ever since he switched to solids, he's decided that if he too clinks and clanks he'll obviously be able to make whatever he likes.

So out comes the pots and pans from his favourite pots and pans drawer.
Out comes his wooden spoon and metal ladle from the spoons and ladles drawer (easy to find: always the first draw down in any house in the free world).
And if he's feeling adventurous, a few spices and herbs from the spices and herbs drawer. (Mum swears he's this close to being able to open jars; we've stashed the chili powder...)

Then it's down to it. Clinking and clanking and mixing and separating. Its kinda like watching the Muppets Swedish chef.

(Ultimately, we're hoping he's more Jamie Oliver than Gordon Ramsey.)

The other remarkable and slowly dawning thing of the past fortnight is his comprehension.

As the lad grabbed the remote control and bolted for parts unknown, Dad was heard to cry...
"Michael, bring that back to Dad."
And... he did.
As the lad whipped the jars out of the spices and herbs drawer and onto the floor yet again someone pleaded...
"Ohhh Michael, put it back pleeeease."
And... he did.
And at breakfast time on a school day Mum asked the lad:
"Where's Dad?"
And he looked straight past the donor of his XY chromosome, trotted to the back door and gazed out at the bike shed.

Oh well, near enough.

Mike's also been off his food and generally a bit of a sickly of late. Not to mention having molars breaking through and milk teeth threatening. Hence;
"Another wafer thin mint Mr Creosote?"
"NNoooooo..." said Mike.
(Tru dinks.)

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