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Archive for the ‘Dutch’ Category

Stories

Angelina Ballerina – does anyone else think she is really irritating and smug.  But the big girl loves these books and particularly pertinent at the moment is Angelina and the Royal Wedding (marketing ploy there anyone?).  In it she is not that nice to poor Henry, who, if I were him, would have left his big sister locked in the tower.  But some of the big girl’s favourites I do share – Fix It Duck for one, as we yodel very noisily along to the story.

In our semi bilingual household we now have a plethora of Dutch books including some of the husband’s books from when he was a child.  One book we return to again and again is Jip and Janneke, which has fantastic illustrations.  My Dutch is just about OK to read these short Dutch stories in a probably very mangled way but shortly the husband is going to have to take over the continental part of bed time stories.

The little man is very excited by books and loves turning the pages of  board and cloth books.  He has almost stopped eating books too … progress indeed.

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Het familie

The child bit of the family consists of the big girl and the little boy, the two tots.  One of whom no longer totters but sprints, clambers and runs with staggering and exhausting proficiency.  The little boy contentedly sits and furthermore looks as though he has NO desire to be on the move.  Hurrah for that.  I do note the difference regarding my attitude – with the big girl, about three years ago I was egging her on as she frog crawled around.  This time with the young man I am relieved that at a similar age he isn’t looking to get mobile and am sending a silent pray that he doesn’t until we move somewhere with slightly less mad stairs and more space.

You might have noticed from this title that het familie contains a Dutch element.  The husband is a Cloggie thus are the children, though we haven’t yet gone through the slightly surreal bureaucracy of getting the little boy registered.  To explain the psychological scarring that occurred updating the husband’s passport and adding on the big girl  is a whole other post; other than to briefly say that the husband’s head does not fit the dimensions allowed on a Dutch identity photo, resulting in multiple trips between a photographer and the Dutch Embassy in Edinburgh all the while traipsing along a grumpy two month old baby and even grumpier, knackered mother.

Oh, there is also a cat.  What more to say except the husband and he adore each other.  He loathes me.  The cat that is, hopefully not the husband.

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