Je glisse, tu glisses, elle glisse …

August 23, 2009

Back from ASC (see here and here if you don’t get it and then try to keep up in future) refreshed and ready to type. One of the things I always get out of ASC these days (i.e. since Piaf was born) is how lucky I am to have her and how impossible the whole of my current relationship with her would have been in the Bad Old Days. But I digress.

A lot of this weekend has been slide-based. Yesterday, we drove down to Brighton for a “naming ceremony” which turned out not to be a ceremony at all but a picnic in the park for 30-somethings and their offspring.

No sooner had we arrived, with seconds to spare for the ceremony which then turned out not to be taking place, than Piaf spotted the playground and made a beeline for it. Her single-mindedness is a character trait that she inherited from me on the occasions when it is a positive thing and from her mother on the occasions when it is a negative thing.

Four visits we made to that playground in as many hours. On one of the ones that I supervised I was surprised and a little perturbed to hear another mother talking to her daughter in French. Goodness, I thought – what if she heard me and knows I’m not a native (I didn’t even stop to think that she might not be a native either)? And what if I got the gender of “hublot” wrong? She’ll think I’m weird! 

Or, more likely, she won’t give a toss. They remind me of this sort of thing at ASC, I really should get there more often.

They had horses on springs in Brighton, too – which Piaf loved – and sand, which she was less sure about. She has only walked on sand once before and I think it must be a setback, as if, after having put in all that effort comparatively recently, you’ve suddenly, inexplicably, lost the walking “knack”.

Today, we have been to two local slides – the one behind our house first thing, then to the one in the big park this afternoon. The child is genuinely obsessed with the things. Up and down, up and down – we have to lure her away with the other objects in the playground (it doesn’t help she is going through an anti-swing phase.)

 In the big park, she also loved the mural of the fox and the owl and the birds (not in the slightest put off that an older boy had just pissed up it) and then stole her mother’s ice lolly on the way home. A splendid day, made all the better that, after so many months of angst and uncertainty, she is showing definite signs of being gauchère like her papa! I am aware that some people (including maman) think left-handedness is not particularly an advantage in life. Sadly, they are wrong, because it is. The thought of Piaf joining the ranks of the Elect fills me with joy.

 And, now I think more carefully about yesterday, it was indeed with her left hand that she pointed excitedly at the bloody enormous slide – so enormous that it finishes in a pit to make it longer – and terrified me.

 Perhaps her obsession with the small slide is something I can live with after all.


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