Names have been changed to protect the guilty…

When I started blogging it was because I wanted a space of my own. I never gave much thought to anonymity, but then there was only DH and I to think of. I appreciated that DH had a working life that needed to be kept separate from the life about which I wrote, so gave him a nickname- the ‘oosband to start with- and from there it seemed a simple step to give the dog one too. I imagine if you look you will find references to their actual names since I was never particularly religious about it.

I didn’t really need to tell people my real name at that point because I only had about four followers and they were family. I didn’t see a problem with giving readers The Girls’ full names when they were born because people who read this blog had been through miscarriage and pregnancy with me. And I am ridiculously proud of their beautiful names. Yet, despite spending a long time choosing their names, they quickly developed nicknames which sort of spilled over into blogland. Thus Squeaky, PD’s first nickname. She became Widget at some point too. I came up with the Pocket Dictator whilst ranting about her pre-terrible-two behaviour on a Mumsnet thread, and that really stuck. Even when I thought she had outgrown PD and tried Threeva, it never stuck. I used PD in texts and on Facebook, Twitter and when talking over her head!

And yet in the last few weeks of the summer holiday I have come to the startling realisation that it is time for an upgrade. She is no longer pocket-sized, for starters. Yes, she’s still petite when compared with her peers, but she has shot up in the last week, necessitating an urgent trip to Clarks for larger school shoes, and an appointment at the School Shop for new uniform next week. She has started requesting plaits in her hair, or ponytails, or this clip, or that hairband, and no longer hates having her hair brushed. Yes, she still tries to exert her authority, but it’s in full sentences, rather that the short one-word orders that once spawned her nickname. And, as you would expect from the daughter of a lawyer, most of her orders come in the form of ‘deals’. I spend most of my day negotiating with her, answering her insatiable questions and trying to limit the number of outfit changes. She has become, in her words, a Big Girl. And yet she is still my Little Girl. My Little Big Girl.

Dimples on the other hand, has grown to assume the PD mantle in the past few weeks. She marches around like she owns the world, and is bloody good at winding up her sister. She also holds a grudge, biding her time until she is sure that Little Big Girl has forgotten she offended her small sister before exacting revenge in the most painful way possible. The bloodcurdling screams that LBG lets forth bring me running every time: I know that I will find Dimples holding a fistful of LBG’s hair, a look of triumph on her face, and no amount of time on the naughty step will take that look away. It takes a good few miutes to prise LBG’s white curls from her smaller sister’s fingers, such is her grip. It’s pretty much a metaphor for her life, if I’m honest. She’s a tenacious little bugger, with a thirst for danger and a cheeky look. The Dimples are pure deception, leading you to believe that she is cute and placid. But you’ll only be fooled until you hear her scream indignantly when she doesn’t get her way. That girl is in danger of breaking glass. To call her Dimples is to give you the wrong impression of the most feisty, character-ful, cheeky, intelligent and independent child I have ever come across. She is equal parts cute & cuddly and calculated stealth. Dimpled Assassin, maybe?

Either way, it’s all change in the DG household. LBG is back to Kindergarten next week, with only a year until Proper School. The DA is stepping up to two days at nursery, partly for my sanity (those screams cause viscious headaches) and partly because she needs more variety to keep her occupied. I started the summer with a Toddler and a Baby. I’m finishing it with a Big Girl and a Toddler.