Home made fairy tales

Starting to dip our toes into the world of non-fiction: it feels adventurous, far less steeped in nostalgia for me. Though now I've said that, I'm thinking of 'how to make a square egg' and the origami book I read obsessively for a while. Quite probably shouldn't admit that in print if I want to keep any friends at all ...

I'm ashamed to say I don't know who gave little a FAIRY TALE THINGS TO MAKE AND DO for her Birthday (when I left the room they were in a beautiful pile, when I came back the floor was strewn with shiny pink paper and all the (equally pink) presents were out. Self-restraint something to work on, then). But whoever it was, I thank you. It has been neglected for a while, then we suddenly rediscovered it and have been working our way through. It's not quite origami, but I've been loving it.

So far, we've made: fairy tale frogs, double-sided Little Red Riding Hood grandma, complete with hand-woven paper quilt and Wolf on the reverse, Princess and the Pea collage and Cinderella's sparkly shoe.

Now have the problem of what to do with these priceless works of art. They're not easy to dust. Do we have to rent a Saatchi-esque garage to store them and hope there's no unfortunate fire? So here they are, a photograph for posterity.

Next project: little a wants to make an igloo. Hmmm. Serves me right for going all educational and getting a book about Homes Around the World from the library.

I'll let you know how we get on ...

Fancy bows and all!

Ahhhh! a pause in the Princess Poppy phase! And we are delighting in The Elves and the Shoemaker, and The Little Old Lady in the Strawberry patch.

Spring is here, and we are making things and dreaming of sweet red fruit.

Loving it.

Princessism

This Princess Poppy phase is interminable ...

I've been yearning for a bit of Milly Molly Mandy or My Naughty Little Sister - although at a party on Saturday night (40th! can't believe I've started going to 40ths!) a new acquaintance pointed out that they're equally trite and stereotyped. Maybe I just like them for the nostalgia - not just for my own childhood but for some imagined simpler time when things were more straightforward and mothers did proper mothering with baking and scrubbing and hair up in rollers.

It's all just a reaction to a run of late nights working and Guardian front pages about the rotten lot of modern woman. Not to mention the new Princess Poppy I brought home from work - which features gladiator sandals and a routine that Gina Ford would be proud of, all in the first chapter.

Sometimes I wish we'd stop moaning though. Women. Are we never going to be happy? We just put so much pressure on ourselves to do it all and be perfect. Maybe we should start trying to have more fun instead.

Don't want to undermine all those decades of feminism or anything but I'm starting to wonder if it isn't time for a bit of princessism. I'm going to take a leaf out of Poppy's book: adopt the Pollyanna attitude to life. Sulk a little when I don't get what I want, but know that in the end things will turn out my way. Oh, and have attentive adults making sure that they do.

Maybe it's time to move on to Roald Dahl ...

The Little Old Lady in the Strawberry Patch

A little PS post for THE LITTLE OLD LADY IN THE STRAWBERRY PATCH, which we read tonight (along with the ubiquitous PRINCESS POPPY AND TWINKLETOES of course).

Lovely, straightforward storytelling. A favourite from my childhood, the final picture of the little old lady falling asleep clutching the largest strawberry (so tired is she after painting all the strawberries in the strawberry patch) is a part of me.

World Book Night, every night

It's World Book Night and I've been watching as the BBC try to make books feel exciting on television. Sad to say that it's like live theatre or music - it just doesn't translate. So while great books, and even not-so-great books can be adapted into great TV shows or films, people talking about books or reading from them just isn't very watchable.

Although I loved Jackanory, and that storytime at the end of CBeebies is pretty good too. So maybe I'm being unfair on the reading thing.

It's just that books need to be brought to life. When you're reading them yourself, your imagination does it. When someone's reading to you, they need to bring an extra dimension of performance to it, otherwise your imagination switches off and thinks about something more interesting instead.

Well, that's my excuse for making every bedtime story into some kind of one woman show.

Little a is used to it. But I've had complaints from wider audiences: 'you're too loud' being the most frequent. Must remember there's no need to project in a room where there's not even room to swing a cat.

We're still in our Princess Poppy phase, hence quietness on blogging front (there's really only so much I can find to say about Honey and Twinkletoes I'm afraid.) Am feeling really guilty about how quickly I'm reading at the moment. So desperate to get through the things that I'm speed-reading, hardly even pausing to do different accents - and regularly 'forgetting' to open the little tiny envelope on the first page with the twee message about how to stand like a ballerina or measure a horse using your hands (yes, really ...)

We went away for half term. Cunningly didn't pack any Princess Poppy and had a blissful week of Milly Molly Mandy and My Naughty Little Sister. Failed to wean her off though, since we got back it's been relentless princess homilies all the way.

So, my homily for tonight: I love World Book Night, what a great idea - to give away books and spread the love of reading. And isn't that what we all do, by reading to our children? Long may it continue ...

Happy year of the rabbit

We have been reading about dragons recently - because it's Chinese New Year, my supermulticultural daughter tells me.

Apparently, they didn't use knives at lunchtime in school on Thursday. In China, it's bad luck to cut on New Year, because you cut your luck.

So, I am beginning the Year of the Rabbit (very close to little a's heart, her favourite toy is a rabbit) with new knowledge and a new story: Chang the painter, who could not  refuse the Emperor's demand that he paint eyes into his dragons.

Shark in the Dark

The relentless Princess Poppy run may be at an end. Or at least is having a rest, thanks to Shark in the Park. Our neighbours - in fact, possibly the whole street - may be less pleased, since it is apparently essential to yell THERE'S A SHARK IN THE PARK!!!!!! at the absolute top of your lungs on every page.

It's our library choice this week (tomorrow is save our libraries day of action, by the way http://www.voicesforthelibrary.org.uk/wordpress/ 
I love libraries. Our local one was a big part of my childhood. I never even considered buying books until I was in my late teens, really. But the idea that you could have six books to take home as often as you liked seemed heaven to me. And I yearn for their collection of international fairy tales, which first introduced me to Baba Yaga. Libraries aren't cool, or particularly exciting, I know. Even the super-refurbished ones have bad carpet and dubious taste in soft furnishings. But through those doors is world upon world of new discoveries and places to go. And it's a safe place to explore that is asking nothing from you in return. That's pretty rare.)

But, as usual, I digress. Shark in the Park is our saviour, thanks to the library. Little a chose it because it was so familiar from nursery. I love that. She's started introducing me to books, as well as the other way round. Brilliant.

Though I do have to question the wisdom of a bedtime story about sharks, given her over-active imagination. And perhaps reading it alongside Little Red Riding Hood - the original version, where the wolf eats grandma, Red, then gets his stomach cut open and filled with stones - wasn't the wisest combination.

Maybe Princess Poppy and her icky world of sweetness and light isn't such a bad thing after all ... at least then the only nightmares will be about drowning in glitter ...



A friend of mine made a sweet defence of Poppy today: she said how nice it was that everyone was making things in the stories. It's true, they do - it's like the children's equivalent of Kirstie's Homemade Home (which I do love). Oh no. I'm going to start dressing in pink soon.