November 2022

The Family Travel Show is on at Olympia on 31st October and 1st November – and you can take your children without worrying about them staying still long enough for you to enjoy the exhibitors. All thanks to Esprit, the UK’s No. 1 Family Ski company, which is offering free, bookable childcare on both days.

Picture credit: espritski.com

If you’re like me, you may see the big shows advertised, such as the Family Travel Show and the Christmas exhibitions, and weep a little inside, resigning yourself to enjoying these events when the children are up and grown.

But Esprit Ski have come up with the brilliant solution of offering creche facilities at the Family Travel Show, where children can join in all the songs, dances, games and other activities they do in the Alps.

If you’re thinking of a family ski holiday this season or in the future, but are worried about the childcare provision, this is a great way to “try before you buy”. All the Esprit Nannies and Snow Rangers are qualified childcare professionals carefully selected by the experienced Childcare Management Team for their expertise – and their “fun factor”! So you can ski all day safe in the knowledge that your children are having fun too.

Don’t worry if you have younger children. The Esprit creche is split into two areas with one section looking after the older children, and the other the youngest ones so all children between 17 weeks and 8 years old are welcome.

Please note, there will be limited availability. To pre-register and GUARANTEE your place, please email [email protected]

As with the Esprit Ski holidays overseas, the creche will be subject to strict sign in/out procedures.

The Family Travel Show at Olympia will be open:

• Saturday 31st October, 10am-5pm
• Sunday 1st November, 10am-4pm

Within those times, The Esprit creche will be available with several 2-hour slots.

• Saturday | 10am-12pm, 1pm-3pm and 3pm-5pm
• Sunday | 10am-12pm, 12pm-2pm and 2pm-4pm

So don’t wait for a ski holiday to experience the quality child care from Esprit Ski, have a wonderful family day out and combine the two!

Disclosure: This is a collaborative post. 

Then: my mum holding my baby. Now: my mum stimulating my baby’s visual recognition skills

“Messy play” – or “mucking around with his Weetabix”? While the basic tenets of parenting remain the same through the ages, the phrases I come out with sometimes make my mum look at me like I’m bonkers. But think about it, a lot of the labels we use these days are a teeny bit daft.

THEN: Baby “touched things”.

NOW: Baby does “sensory play.”

THEN: Baby “picked up some food”.

NOW: Baby does “baby-led weaning”.

THEN: Baby “went back to sleep”.

NOW: Baby “self-soothes”.

THEN: Baby “bent over”.

NOW: Baby “does baby yoga”.

THEN: Baby ”heard something.”

NOW: Baby “receives auditory stimulation”.

THEN: Baby “jumped on the sofa cushions”.

NOW: Baby “does soft play”.

THEN: Baby “picked up dangerously small stuff”.

NOW: Baby “practises fine motor skills”.

THEN: Baby “shook a rattle”.

NOW: Baby “does Monkey Music”.

THEN: Baby “used crayons”.

NOW: Baby “does mark-making.”

THEN: Baby “battered a toy into submission”.

NOW: Baby “problem solves”.

THEN: Baby “whacked something that was thrust in its face”.

NOW: Baby “exhibits hand-to-eye coordination”.

THEN: Baby “pushed a car along the floor saying brrm brrm”.

NOW: Baby “practises imaginative play”.

THEN: Baby “walked”.

NOW: Baby “mastered gross motor skills”.

THEN: Baby “was naughty”.

NOW: Baby “explores boundaries”.

THEN: Baby “was told off”.

NOW: Baby “gets descriptive praise”.

THEN: Baby “watched TV”*. * For the one hour a day that there were children’s programme in the Dark Ages, as my mum never fails to stress.

NOW: Baby “rescued mummy’s mental wellbeing via the medium of Peppa”.

I’m not saying who’s right or wrong – all I know is, 24-hour Nick Junior is progress – nay, a human right – and I’m all for it – call it what you will!

Then: my mum holding my baby. Now: my mum stimulating my baby’s visual recognition skills

“Messy play” – or “mucking around with his Weetabix”? While the basic tenets of parenting remain the same through the ages, the phrases I come out with sometimes make my mum look at me like I’m bonkers. But think about it, a lot of the labels we use these days are a teeny bit daft.

THEN: Baby “touched things”.

NOW: Baby does “sensory play.”

THEN: Baby “picked up some food”.

NOW: Baby does “baby-led weaning”.

THEN: Baby “went back to sleep”.

NOW: Baby “self-soothes”.

THEN: Baby “bent over”.

NOW: Baby “does baby yoga”.

THEN: Baby ”heard something.”

NOW: Baby “receives auditory stimulation”.

THEN: Baby “jumped on the sofa cushions”.

NOW: Baby “does soft play”.

THEN: Baby “picked up dangerously small stuff”.

NOW: Baby “practises fine motor skills”.

THEN: Baby “shook a rattle”.

NOW: Baby “does Monkey Music”.

THEN: Baby “used crayons”.

NOW: Baby “does mark-making.”

THEN: Baby “battered a toy into submission”.

NOW: Baby “problem solves”.

THEN: Baby “whacked something that was thrust in its face”.

NOW: Baby “exhibits hand-to-eye coordination”.

THEN: Baby “pushed a car along the floor saying brrm brrm”.

NOW: Baby “practises imaginative play”.

THEN: Baby “walked”.

NOW: Baby “mastered gross motor skills”.

THEN: Baby “was naughty”.

NOW: Baby “explores boundaries”.

THEN: Baby “was told off”.

NOW: Baby “gets descriptive praise”.

THEN: Baby “watched TV”*. * For the one hour a day that there were children’s programme in the Dark Ages, as my mum never fails to stress.

NOW: Baby “rescued mummy’s mental wellbeing via the medium of Peppa”.

I’m not saying who’s right or wrong – all I know is, 24-hour Nick Junior is progress – nay, a human right – and I’m all for it – call it what you will!

Then: my mum holding my baby. Now: my mum stimulating my baby’s visual recognition skills

“Messy play” – or “mucking around with his Weetabix”? While the basic tenets of parenting remain the same through the ages, the phrases I come out with sometimes make my mum look at me like I’m bonkers. But think about it, a lot of the labels we use these days are a teeny bit daft.

THEN: Baby “touched things”.

NOW: Baby does “sensory play.”

THEN: Baby “picked up some food”.

NOW: Baby does “baby-led weaning”.

THEN: Baby “went back to sleep”.

NOW: Baby “self-soothes”.

THEN: Baby “bent over”.

NOW: Baby “does baby yoga”.

THEN: Baby ”heard something.”

NOW: Baby “receives auditory stimulation”.

THEN: Baby “jumped on the sofa cushions”.

NOW: Baby “does soft play”.

THEN: Baby “picked up dangerously small stuff”.

NOW: Baby “practises fine motor skills”.

THEN: Baby “shook a rattle”.

NOW: Baby “does Monkey Music”.

THEN: Baby “used crayons”.

NOW: Baby “does mark-making.”

THEN: Baby “battered a toy into submission”.

NOW: Baby “problem solves”.

THEN: Baby “whacked something that was thrust in its face”.

NOW: Baby “exhibits hand-to-eye coordination”.

THEN: Baby “pushed a car along the floor saying brrm brrm”.

NOW: Baby “practises imaginative play”.

THEN: Baby “walked”.

NOW: Baby “mastered gross motor skills”.

THEN: Baby “was naughty”.

NOW: Baby “explores boundaries”.

THEN: Baby “was told off”.

NOW: Baby “gets descriptive praise”.

THEN: Baby “watched TV”*. * For the one hour a day that there were children’s programme in the Dark Ages, as my mum never fails to stress.

NOW: Baby “rescued mummy’s mental wellbeing via the medium of Peppa”.

I’m not saying who’s right or wrong – all I know is, 24-hour Nick Junior is progress – nay, a human right – and I’m all for it – call it what you will!

Then: my mum holding my baby. Now: my mum stimulating my baby’s visual recognition skills

“Messy play” – or “mucking around with his Weetabix”? While the basic tenets of parenting remain the same through the ages, the phrases I come out with sometimes make my mum look at me like I’m bonkers. But think about it, a lot of the labels we use these days are a teeny bit daft.

THEN: Baby “touched things”.

NOW: Baby does “sensory play.”

THEN: Baby “picked up some food”.

NOW: Baby does “baby-led weaning”.

THEN: Baby “went back to sleep”.

NOW: Baby “self-soothes”.

THEN: Baby “bent over”.

NOW: Baby “does baby yoga”.

THEN: Baby ”heard something.”

NOW: Baby “receives auditory stimulation”.

THEN: Baby “jumped on the sofa cushions”.

NOW: Baby “does soft play”.

THEN: Baby “picked up dangerously small stuff”.

NOW: Baby “practises fine motor skills”.

THEN: Baby “shook a rattle”.

NOW: Baby “does Monkey Music”.

THEN: Baby “used crayons”.

NOW: Baby “does mark-making.”

THEN: Baby “battered a toy into submission”.

NOW: Baby “problem solves”.

THEN: Baby “whacked something that was thrust in its face”.

NOW: Baby “exhibits hand-to-eye coordination”.

THEN: Baby “pushed a car along the floor saying brrm brrm”.

NOW: Baby “practises imaginative play”.

THEN: Baby “walked”.

NOW: Baby “mastered gross motor skills”.

THEN: Baby “was naughty”.

NOW: Baby “explores boundaries”.

THEN: Baby “was told off”.

NOW: Baby “gets descriptive praise”.

THEN: Baby “watched TV”*. * For the one hour a day that there were children’s programme in the Dark Ages, as my mum never fails to stress.

NOW: Baby “rescued mummy’s mental wellbeing via the medium of Peppa”.

I’m not saying who’s right or wrong – all I know is, 24-hour Nick Junior is progress – nay, a human right – and I’m all for it – call it what you will!

I was never a competitive mother – until I won. Ahem, I mean, my son won. The triumph came as a complete surprise – and so did my reaction.  There I was, tootling along, perfectly sincere in my contention that, “I don’t care how he does at school, as long as he’s happy”. But then, my son’s name was called out, and everything changed. He had won first prize in the Easter Bonnet Parade. And I had morphed into a Tiger Mom.

Anatomy of a Tiger Mother I’ll never forget that moment. All those days we had spent creating the prize-winning (see, I can’t stop going on about it) bonnet, all those trial-and-errors we had undertaken in my first craft project since my own primary school days, had come together in this one glorious finale. The teacher announced my son’s victory, and I – to my eternal shame – jumped up, punched both fists in the air and hissed “Yessss!”. If you’re going to be a tiger mom, at least keep a muzzle on it in public. As I clapped my hands off, I went into a reverie. From here, anything was possible! I could propel him into a jazz saxophone world tour at nine! University at eleven! Olympic champion decathlete in 2024! For the last week, I’ve been fizzing with ambition for my son’s future. Perhaps you find it strange that I wouldn’t have harboured such feelings before, but the truth is, he’s SIX! I’m absolutely sure he’s capable of great things, but he’s just mastering his handwriting right now. Occasionally I have a Tiger Woods moment, and kick myself for not having already thrown him into a sporting discipline that would pay for my retirement, but in general, I’m just happy he’s gone to school in clean pants. Which is more a victory for me than for him, to be fair. It’s no surprise that the competitive mum in me has been unleashed, though. For, as all my family and friends will shudderingly confirm, I used to be a very competitive person. In everything. But I stick by my version that the only person I was really competitive with was myself – which explains why I am not in the least competitive about my children. I was so lost in wonder and happiness when expecting my first (he of Easter bonnet fame), that I didn’t even countenance getting involved in all the competitive pregnancy nonsense that I’ve observed. And when my baby came, I felt like I’d already won every competition. I had given birth to the most perfect baby in the universe. When Tiger Mothers Go Cuddly

Once Easter is over, the bonnet lies crumpled in a corner denuded of its mini chocolate eggs,and the after-glow of triumph has faded, I’m sure my inner competitive mother will go back to its deep tiger-nap. But I don’t think it’s all bad that she was awoken. Delusions of Harvard are clearly bonkers, but I’ve realised that I could, and should, aspire to help my children reach that little bit further. I will generally be cuddly and playful, but show a ruthless streak when necessary. Not so much a Tiger Mother as a…Meerkat Mum? So, how did you make this masterpiece? I hear you cry. Well, I’ll tell you, but first let me say that the school sent home a very strong message of it being about the children’s creativity (basically telling all the tiger mums to get back in their cages). So… Step 1: Decide on your concept Over to my son. As mentioned, he is six. I said, “What shall we put on your bonnet?” He said, “Lego.” OK, then. As an afterthought he added, “And a prayer.” So we had our concept sorted. Step 2: Buy everything in sight I quite literally went to town. No shop was left unturned. Obviously, we have loads of Lego, but no other kind of kit at all. Not even a bonnet. I found one of those immediately in my opportune supermarket, for £1, which I was pretty chuffed with considering what happened next. I went craft crazy! I bought ribbons, tapestry thread, needles, mini chocolate eggs, fluffy chicks in all shapes and colours, and – for the first time ever, and I was thinking of Blue Peter all the way – some double-sided sticky tape! It’s a real thing! As a child, I thought it was only something they had on TV. I still kinda believed that, till I found it in WHSmith. There all along! Step 3: Realise that nothing is sticky enough I bought these ridiculous things called glue dots. Ideal, I thought, for affixing chocolate eggs and fluffy chicks to a hat – and mess-free to boot! I should have known it was too good to be true. Useless. And have you tried double-sided sticky tape? Trying to peel it off the backing is like trying to open a tampon in a hurry – maddeningly impossible. And it was nowhere near sticky enough anyway. So for the chicks and eggs, I went for PVA glue. Great globules of it, that dripped through the holes in the bonnet onto the (uncovered – I am a craft virgin after all) table. Worked fine for the eggs, but we went back a few minutes later to find the chicks in varying stages of keel, as though they’d been at a barrel of port in our absence. But by holding them patiently on, the little ones did eventually stay stuck. The big ones, no chance.   Step 4: Sew Lego base on to bonnet Yep, the Lego base was no way going to stick with my paltry means, and although I had bought some superglue in my sticky-stuff spree, I didn’t want to wreck the base for future use. So, I sewed it on. Worked a treat. This is where my son’s brilliance really came into play. He decided to put Cranky the crane on top, so he could hold a basket with an egg in it, for Easter. Driven by a curiously immobile bunny. And he wrote his prayer all by himself (with a bit of spelling help) in beautiful handwriting. We had to Sellotape the Lego bricks together, stick the egg in the basket with glue and disassemble the top for transit to school, but we’d done it! I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this, but – we won! The teacher-judge said she had picked it because it was “so original”. It certainly is that. Now, I’m already thinking of how to top it next year. Not that I’m competitive or anything…

Follow me on bloglovin

Linking up with Mini Creations at kidGLloves

I was never a competitive mother – until I won. Ahem, I mean, my son won. The triumph came as a complete surprise – and so did my reaction.  There I was, tootling along, perfectly sincere in my contention that, “I don’t care how he does at school, as long as he’s happy”. But then, my son’s name was called out, and everything changed. He had won first prize in the Easter Bonnet Parade. And I had morphed into a Tiger Mom.

Anatomy of a Tiger Mother I’ll never forget that moment. All those days we had spent creating the prize-winning (see, I can’t stop going on about it) bonnet, all those trial-and-errors we had undertaken in my first craft project since my own primary school days, had come together in this one glorious finale. The teacher announced my son’s victory, and I – to my eternal shame – jumped up, punched both fists in the air and hissed “Yessss!”. If you’re going to be a tiger mom, at least keep a muzzle on it in public. As I clapped my hands off, I went into a reverie. From here, anything was possible! I could propel him into a jazz saxophone world tour at nine! University at eleven! Olympic champion decathlete in 2024! For the last week, I’ve been fizzing with ambition for my son’s future. Perhaps you find it strange that I wouldn’t have harboured such feelings before, but the truth is, he’s SIX! I’m absolutely sure he’s capable of great things, but he’s just mastering his handwriting right now. Occasionally I have a Tiger Woods moment, and kick myself for not having already thrown him into a sporting discipline that would pay for my retirement, but in general, I’m just happy he’s gone to school in clean pants. Which is more a victory for me than for him, to be fair. It’s no surprise that the competitive mum in me has been unleashed, though. For, as all my family and friends will shudderingly confirm, I used to be a very competitive person. In everything. But I stick by my version that the only person I was really competitive with was myself – which explains why I am not in the least competitive about my children. I was so lost in wonder and happiness when expecting my first (he of Easter bonnet fame), that I didn’t even countenance getting involved in all the competitive pregnancy nonsense that I’ve observed. And when my baby came, I felt like I’d already won every competition. I had given birth to the most perfect baby in the universe. When Tiger Mothers Go Cuddly

Once Easter is over, the bonnet lies crumpled in a corner denuded of its mini chocolate eggs,and the after-glow of triumph has faded, I’m sure my inner competitive mother will go back to its deep tiger-nap. But I don’t think it’s all bad that she was awoken. Delusions of Harvard are clearly bonkers, but I’ve realised that I could, and should, aspire to help my children reach that little bit further. I will generally be cuddly and playful, but show a ruthless streak when necessary. Not so much a Tiger Mother as a…Meerkat Mum? So, how did you make this masterpiece? I hear you cry. Well, I’ll tell you, but first let me say that the school sent home a very strong message of it being about the children’s creativity (basically telling all the tiger mums to get back in their cages). So… Step 1: Decide on your concept Over to my son. As mentioned, he is six. I said, “What shall we put on your bonnet?” He said, “Lego.” OK, then. As an afterthought he added, “And a prayer.” So we had our concept sorted. Step 2: Buy everything in sight I quite literally went to town. No shop was left unturned. Obviously, we have loads of Lego, but no other kind of kit at all. Not even a bonnet. I found one of those immediately in my opportune supermarket, for £1, which I was pretty chuffed with considering what happened next. I went craft crazy! I bought ribbons, tapestry thread, needles, mini chocolate eggs, fluffy chicks in all shapes and colours, and – for the first time ever, and I was thinking of Blue Peter all the way – some double-sided sticky tape! It’s a real thing! As a child, I thought it was only something they had on TV. I still kinda believed that, till I found it in WHSmith. There all along! Step 3: Realise that nothing is sticky enough I bought these ridiculous things called glue dots. Ideal, I thought, for affixing chocolate eggs and fluffy chicks to a hat – and mess-free to boot! I should have known it was too good to be true. Useless. And have you tried double-sided sticky tape? Trying to peel it off the backing is like trying to open a tampon in a hurry – maddeningly impossible. And it was nowhere near sticky enough anyway. So for the chicks and eggs, I went for PVA glue. Great globules of it, that dripped through the holes in the bonnet onto the (uncovered – I am a craft virgin after all) table. Worked fine for the eggs, but we went back a few minutes later to find the chicks in varying stages of keel, as though they’d been at a barrel of port in our absence. But by holding them patiently on, the little ones did eventually stay stuck. The big ones, no chance.   Step 4: Sew Lego base on to bonnet Yep, the Lego base was no way going to stick with my paltry means, and although I had bought some superglue in my sticky-stuff spree, I didn’t want to wreck the base for future use. So, I sewed it on. Worked a treat. This is where my son’s brilliance really came into play. He decided to put Cranky the crane on top, so he could hold a basket with an egg in it, for Easter. Driven by a curiously immobile bunny. And he wrote his prayer all by himself (with a bit of spelling help) in beautiful handwriting. We had to Sellotape the Lego bricks together, stick the egg in the basket with glue and disassemble the top for transit to school, but we’d done it! I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this, but – we won! The teacher-judge said she had picked it because it was “so original”. It certainly is that. Now, I’m already thinking of how to top it next year. Not that I’m competitive or anything…

Follow me on bloglovin

Linking up with Mini Creations at kidGLloves

I was never a competitive mother – until I won. Ahem, I mean, my son won. The triumph came as a complete surprise – and so did my reaction.  There I was, tootling along, perfectly sincere in my contention that, “I don’t care how he does at school, as long as he’s happy”. But then, my son’s name was called out, and everything changed. He had won first prize in the Easter Bonnet Parade. And I had morphed into a Tiger Mom.

Anatomy of a Tiger Mother I’ll never forget that moment. All those days we had spent creating the prize-winning (see, I can’t stop going on about it) bonnet, all those trial-and-errors we had undertaken in my first craft project since my own primary school days, had come together in this one glorious finale. The teacher announced my son’s victory, and I – to my eternal shame – jumped up, punched both fists in the air and hissed “Yessss!”. If you’re going to be a tiger mom, at least keep a muzzle on it in public. As I clapped my hands off, I went into a reverie. From here, anything was possible! I could propel him into a jazz saxophone world tour at nine! University at eleven! Olympic champion decathlete in 2024! For the last week, I’ve been fizzing with ambition for my son’s future. Perhaps you find it strange that I wouldn’t have harboured such feelings before, but the truth is, he’s SIX! I’m absolutely sure he’s capable of great things, but he’s just mastering his handwriting right now. Occasionally I have a Tiger Woods moment, and kick myself for not having already thrown him into a sporting discipline that would pay for my retirement, but in general, I’m just happy he’s gone to school in clean pants. Which is more a victory for me than for him, to be fair. It’s no surprise that the competitive mum in me has been unleashed, though. For, as all my family and friends will shudderingly confirm, I used to be a very competitive person. In everything. But I stick by my version that the only person I was really competitive with was myself – which explains why I am not in the least competitive about my children. I was so lost in wonder and happiness when expecting my first (he of Easter bonnet fame), that I didn’t even countenance getting involved in all the competitive pregnancy nonsense that I’ve observed. And when my baby came, I felt like I’d already won every competition. I had given birth to the most perfect baby in the universe. When Tiger Mothers Go Cuddly

Once Easter is over, the bonnet lies crumpled in a corner denuded of its mini chocolate eggs,and the after-glow of triumph has faded, I’m sure my inner competitive mother will go back to its deep tiger-nap. But I don’t think it’s all bad that she was awoken. Delusions of Harvard are clearly bonkers, but I’ve realised that I could, and should, aspire to help my children reach that little bit further. I will generally be cuddly and playful, but show a ruthless streak when necessary. Not so much a Tiger Mother as a…Meerkat Mum? So, how did you make this masterpiece? I hear you cry. Well, I’ll tell you, but first let me say that the school sent home a very strong message of it being about the children’s creativity (basically telling all the tiger mums to get back in their cages). So… Step 1: Decide on your concept Over to my son. As mentioned, he is six. I said, “What shall we put on your bonnet?” He said, “Lego.” OK, then. As an afterthought he added, “And a prayer.” So we had our concept sorted. Step 2: Buy everything in sight I quite literally went to town. No shop was left unturned. Obviously, we have loads of Lego, but no other kind of kit at all. Not even a bonnet. I found one of those immediately in my opportune supermarket, for £1, which I was pretty chuffed with considering what happened next. I went craft crazy! I bought ribbons, tapestry thread, needles, mini chocolate eggs, fluffy chicks in all shapes and colours, and – for the first time ever, and I was thinking of Blue Peter all the way – some double-sided sticky tape! It’s a real thing! As a child, I thought it was only something they had on TV. I still kinda believed that, till I found it in WHSmith. There all along! Step 3: Realise that nothing is sticky enough I bought these ridiculous things called glue dots. Ideal, I thought, for affixing chocolate eggs and fluffy chicks to a hat – and mess-free to boot! I should have known it was too good to be true. Useless. And have you tried double-sided sticky tape? Trying to peel it off the backing is like trying to open a tampon in a hurry – maddeningly impossible. And it was nowhere near sticky enough anyway. So for the chicks and eggs, I went for PVA glue. Great globules of it, that dripped through the holes in the bonnet onto the (uncovered – I am a craft virgin after all) table. Worked fine for the eggs, but we went back a few minutes later to find the chicks in varying stages of keel, as though they’d been at a barrel of port in our absence. But by holding them patiently on, the little ones did eventually stay stuck. The big ones, no chance.   Step 4: Sew Lego base on to bonnet Yep, the Lego base was no way going to stick with my paltry means, and although I had bought some superglue in my sticky-stuff spree, I didn’t want to wreck the base for future use. So, I sewed it on. Worked a treat. This is where my son’s brilliance really came into play. He decided to put Cranky the crane on top, so he could hold a basket with an egg in it, for Easter. Driven by a curiously immobile bunny. And he wrote his prayer all by himself (with a bit of spelling help) in beautiful handwriting. We had to Sellotape the Lego bricks together, stick the egg in the basket with glue and disassemble the top for transit to school, but we’d done it! I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this, but – we won! The teacher-judge said she had picked it because it was “so original”. It certainly is that. Now, I’m already thinking of how to top it next year. Not that I’m competitive or anything…

Follow me on bloglovin

Linking up with Mini Creations at kidGLloves

Then: my mum holding my baby. Now: my mum stimulating my baby’s visual recognition skills

“Messy play” – or “mucking around with his Weetabix”? While the basic tenets of parenting remain the same through the ages, the phrases I come out with sometimes make my mum look at me like I’m bonkers. But think about it, a lot of the labels we use these days are a teeny bit daft.

THEN: Baby “touched things”.

NOW: Baby does “sensory play.”

THEN: Baby “picked up some food”.

NOW: Baby does “baby-led weaning”.

THEN: Baby “went back to sleep”.

NOW: Baby “self-soothes”.

THEN: Baby “bent over”.

NOW: Baby “does baby yoga”.

THEN: Baby ”heard something.”

NOW: Baby “receives auditory stimulation”.

THEN: Baby “jumped on the sofa cushions”.

NOW: Baby “does soft play”.

THEN: Baby “picked up dangerously small stuff”.

NOW: Baby “practises fine motor skills”.

THEN: Baby “shook a rattle”.

NOW: Baby “does Monkey Music”.

THEN: Baby “used crayons”.

NOW: Baby “does mark-making.”

THEN: Baby “battered a toy into submission”.

NOW: Baby “problem solves”.

THEN: Baby “whacked something that was thrust in its face”.

NOW: Baby “exhibits hand-to-eye coordination”.

THEN: Baby “pushed a car along the floor saying brrm brrm”.

NOW: Baby “practises imaginative play”.

THEN: Baby “walked”.

NOW: Baby “mastered gross motor skills”.

THEN: Baby “was naughty”.

NOW: Baby “explores boundaries”.

THEN: Baby “was told off”.

NOW: Baby “gets descriptive praise”.

THEN: Baby “watched TV”*. * For the one hour a day that there were children’s programme in the Dark Ages, as my mum never fails to stress.

NOW: Baby “rescued mummy’s mental wellbeing via the medium of Peppa”.

I’m not saying who’s right or wrong – all I know is, 24-hour Nick Junior is progress – nay, a human right – and I’m all for it – call it what you will!

I was never a competitive mother – until I won. Ahem, I mean, my son won. The triumph came as a complete surprise – and so did my reaction.  There I was, tootling along, perfectly sincere in my contention that, “I don’t care how he does at school, as long as he’s happy”. But then, my son’s name was called out, and everything changed. He had won first prize in the Easter Bonnet Parade. And I had morphed into a Tiger Mom.

Anatomy of a Tiger Mother I’ll never forget that moment. All those days we had spent creating the prize-winning (see, I can’t stop going on about it) bonnet, all those trial-and-errors we had undertaken in my first craft project since my own primary school days, had come together in this one glorious finale. The teacher announced my son’s victory, and I – to my eternal shame – jumped up, punched both fists in the air and hissed “Yessss!”. If you’re going to be a tiger mom, at least keep a muzzle on it in public. As I clapped my hands off, I went into a reverie. From here, anything was possible! I could propel him into a jazz saxophone world tour at nine! University at eleven! Olympic champion decathlete in 2024! For the last week, I’ve been fizzing with ambition for my son’s future. Perhaps you find it strange that I wouldn’t have harboured such feelings before, but the truth is, he’s SIX! I’m absolutely sure he’s capable of great things, but he’s just mastering his handwriting right now. Occasionally I have a Tiger Woods moment, and kick myself for not having already thrown him into a sporting discipline that would pay for my retirement, but in general, I’m just happy he’s gone to school in clean pants. Which is more a victory for me than for him, to be fair. It’s no surprise that the competitive mum in me has been unleashed, though. For, as all my family and friends will shudderingly confirm, I used to be a very competitive person. In everything. But I stick by my version that the only person I was really competitive with was myself – which explains why I am not in the least competitive about my children. I was so lost in wonder and happiness when expecting my first (he of Easter bonnet fame), that I didn’t even countenance getting involved in all the competitive pregnancy nonsense that I’ve observed. And when my baby came, I felt like I’d already won every competition. I had given birth to the most perfect baby in the universe. When Tiger Mothers Go Cuddly

Once Easter is over, the bonnet lies crumpled in a corner denuded of its mini chocolate eggs,and the after-glow of triumph has faded, I’m sure my inner competitive mother will go back to its deep tiger-nap. But I don’t think it’s all bad that she was awoken. Delusions of Harvard are clearly bonkers, but I’ve realised that I could, and should, aspire to help my children reach that little bit further. I will generally be cuddly and playful, but show a ruthless streak when necessary. Not so much a Tiger Mother as a…Meerkat Mum? So, how did you make this masterpiece? I hear you cry. Well, I’ll tell you, but first let me say that the school sent home a very strong message of it being about the children’s creativity (basically telling all the tiger mums to get back in their cages). So… Step 1: Decide on your concept Over to my son. As mentioned, he is six. I said, “What shall we put on your bonnet?” He said, “Lego.” OK, then. As an afterthought he added, “And a prayer.” So we had our concept sorted. Step 2: Buy everything in sight I quite literally went to town. No shop was left unturned. Obviously, we have loads of Lego, but no other kind of kit at all. Not even a bonnet. I found one of those immediately in my opportune supermarket, for £1, which I was pretty chuffed with considering what happened next. I went craft crazy! I bought ribbons, tapestry thread, needles, mini chocolate eggs, fluffy chicks in all shapes and colours, and – for the first time ever, and I was thinking of Blue Peter all the way – some double-sided sticky tape! It’s a real thing! As a child, I thought it was only something they had on TV. I still kinda believed that, till I found it in WHSmith. There all along! Step 3: Realise that nothing is sticky enough I bought these ridiculous things called glue dots. Ideal, I thought, for affixing chocolate eggs and fluffy chicks to a hat – and mess-free to boot! I should have known it was too good to be true. Useless. And have you tried double-sided sticky tape? Trying to peel it off the backing is like trying to open a tampon in a hurry – maddeningly impossible. And it was nowhere near sticky enough anyway. So for the chicks and eggs, I went for PVA glue. Great globules of it, that dripped through the holes in the bonnet onto the (uncovered – I am a craft virgin after all) table. Worked fine for the eggs, but we went back a few minutes later to find the chicks in varying stages of keel, as though they’d been at a barrel of port in our absence. But by holding them patiently on, the little ones did eventually stay stuck. The big ones, no chance.   Step 4: Sew Lego base on to bonnet Yep, the Lego base was no way going to stick with my paltry means, and although I had bought some superglue in my sticky-stuff spree, I didn’t want to wreck the base for future use. So, I sewed it on. Worked a treat. This is where my son’s brilliance really came into play. He decided to put Cranky the crane on top, so he could hold a basket with an egg in it, for Easter. Driven by a curiously immobile bunny. And he wrote his prayer all by himself (with a bit of spelling help) in beautiful handwriting. We had to Sellotape the Lego bricks together, stick the egg in the basket with glue and disassemble the top for transit to school, but we’d done it! I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this, but – we won! The teacher-judge said she had picked it because it was “so original”. It certainly is that. Now, I’m already thinking of how to top it next year. Not that I’m competitive or anything…

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