The Gallery: Children

Tara said she had a gift for us this week with her Gallery theme. I imagine that the unbearable amount of nakedness a fortnight ago forced her to review topics and, given that a large part of her audience are parent-bloggers (sorry, Dads, but Mummy Bloggers does roll off the tongue a lot easier), I can see why. My issue is not the lack of choice, it’s the gaping chasm of possibilities that stretch in front of me when you mention the word children. Naturally, I consider my own, though I believe other children are available. In fact I have on occasion considered flogging one of mine on ebay. There’s probably an untapped market there if you are a Mumpreneur: ebaby?? I’m digressing.  Invariably the ebay-destined child pulls something out of the bag like a first word or an unexpected full-body hug and I have to shelve my plans for stream-lining my life for another time. I think the Wonder Hound has been giving them tips.

Like any good First Time Parent, I have what feels like a billion photographs of the Threeva, charting her development up from Squeaky to Widget to Pocket Dictator and to her current Nom-de-Blog. Technology has been very helpful in that department, furnishing me with a mobile phone that has a better camera than my actual camera. And I always have my phone with me, whereas the camera seems to disappear on a regular basis. I’ve been repeating the excessive-photography-of-my-precious-child with Dimples because to do otherwise would not be fair (in my head. Like they are actually going to sit and count the number of pictures I take of each of them.) Thus I have a whole hard drive filled with good, bad, blurred and freakishly good photographs of my kidlings to choose from. That’s before you factor in the possibility of other children. Eeek.

Thus I took inspiration from the now-infamous Body Parts theme and, more specifically, my entry for it. Nursery Rhymes are an intrinsic part of every childhood and early years education. They come back to you in bits and pieces when you start going to playgroups and songtime with your baby, along with forgotten memories of the mornings sitting in a circle on the knees of your mother. Random lines and notes spring into your head as you fill the nursery with teeny tiny clothes and nappies whilst you await your impending arrival. I assume that, as my girls grow, they will tuck themselves away in the corners of my brain where they will patiently wait for me to soothe the next generation of babies with Granny’s singing or entertain them with words and actions.

For now though, I have this: