milk and existentialism

It's never too early to start them with a little surrealism, I say.

I'm off work this week, joining the league of bewildered normally working parents trying to pretend they know how to look after their own children in the school holidays. So at half seven this morning, rather than lying on the floor having a screaming tantrum about socks (me, not her: she doesn't care that she isn't wearing any, we're running late, and I have a meeting at half nine), little a and I were still snuggled up in bed, and reading Bob & Co by Delphine Durand.

I think I can be safe in saying this is not, and probably never will be, a classic of children's literature. It's a quirky little book, to say the least. Another Tate bookshop find, and I must have been reeling from some particularly intense artistic experience at the time.

Now, I must warn you, if you're of a religious disposition and likely to be offended by the depiction of God as a small pink blob, then this isn't for you.

We like it, though. 'God has a girl voice' apparently. He's pink. Go figure.

It's basically the story of the beginning of the world, and prompts in my four-year-old such existential insights as
'when the emptiness is full, it's the fullness'
This will surely stand her in good stead at dinner parties in the future.

It feels like a good top-and-tailing of the day that one of little a's bedtime story selection for tonight was Maurice Sendak's The Night Kitchen. As my good friend Os puts it 'he's not just where the wild things are' and how right she is. I remember this book so strongly from my childhood, not because we had it at home (Maurice Sendak was only where the wild things are in our house, as it happened) but for the embarrassing fact that me and my friend (not Os I hasten to add) were delighted by the fact that you can see his willy ...

little a takes the nudity in her stride. In fact I'm not sure she even notices it. But we do have an ongoing dispute about whether the correct reading is 'slid down the side' (of the milk bottle) or 'slid down the slide'. Perhaps Mr Sendak did indeed leave out the 'l' by mistake.

Either way, it is a riot of surrealism, a dream of a book (literally) and the illustrations of Mickey flying over a city of milk bottles and flour shakers have been clearly etched in my memory from my willy-giggling girlhood. little a takes great relish in belting out 'quiet down there!' and 'cock-a-doodle-doo!' and is very keen on the idea of cake for breakfast every day. In her dreams ...



PS two more, non-book things: our 'quality mummy time' outing today was to the Enchanted Palace at Kensington Palace and I thoroughly recommend it. I'm not a big fan of stately homes and royal palaces and the like: I think houses are for living in and don't get why you'd want to peer through the precious gloom at dark and dainty chairs you're not allowed to sit in even if you're an old gent with a gammy leg. But the Palace is being renovated, and in a flight of imagination rather than covering the place in dustsheets they've welcomed a team of artists who have created a magical installation that brings the palace, and the plight of princesses, to life. This is a gothic fairytale of an educational trip, take a look if you can: http://www.hrp.org.uk/KensingtonPalace/stories/palacehighlights/EnchantedPalace.aspx?EventDate=&Step=View (There's also the brilliant pirate ship and Princess Diana Memorial Playground a five minute walk away, and the delicious cakes of The Orangery to make it pretty much a perfect day out)

And part two: a proud mother moment as little a has taken her first solo pedals on her 'wobbly bike'. 'Don't let go until we're past the houses, mummy!' How to tell her? This is suburbia. The houses never end ... We now measure distance not in miles or km, but SDH or Semi Detached House. She has today cycled, unsupported, a full SDH. Tomorrow, perhaps, she'll learn how to brake.

If you're wanting to grow your own fledgling Lance Armstrong, the pedal free balance bikes are brilliant. We've got to this point without stabilisers, and after only about 50 SDH of back-breaking pushing. (thank you, Auntie C - best 2nd birthday present ever!)