In Denmark, babies sleep outside while parents dine and wine inside. Just one of those fascinating parenting methods from around the world.
I am not sure if this is ongoing but a Positive Birth Group is always worth checking out if you’re in Cyprus and expecting.
Steven Spielberg to direct The BFG! I can barely contain my excitement even though it won’t be out until 2016.
I’m excited about this week’s The Parent Hood. There’s a good mix and an eye-opening read. Grab that cup of tea.
The only reason kids love the beach is because of SAND. I’m seriously considering doing this.
Always on the lookout for inspiring ideas for Georgie’s bedroom.
I have been keeping up with Jacqui’s blog since she lost her beautiful three year old son, Ryan. She is using the space to write her way through this tragedy. She is a remarkable woman.
I am declaring a REGULAR new post theme called The Parent Hood. Thrilling title I know but this isn’t coming from a busy office with coffee breaks and a Ryan Gosling look-alike taking notes. It’s coming from a woman who has seriously overdue chipped nail varnish, dirty feet dangling off the bed and the faint scent of fry-up in her hair keeping her from coming up with something better to name said regular new post theme. Oh and also, I am dying to re-watch the last episode of Game of Thrones. Obsessed is not the right word.
It started with Instagram and a picture of a mummy, a daddy and the cutest red headed boy I have ever seen. Then the caption. The words ‘tragedy’ and ‘sudden loss’ were mentioned. That sweet boy was dead.
I immediately went into a frenzy. Searching on other Instagram profiles for anything that would explain what had happened. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. A little boy, dead? A three-year old little boy, whose mother had posted, that same morning, a picture of him running through Disneyland, was hit by a truck. He is no longer here. No longer in the arms of his mother. How can that be?
A few days after we returned, I noticed some miscommunication between Georgie and I. It started with stamping feet and whiny noises. Hm. Then there was the time he thought it would be funny to spit in my face. There are the sudden bursts of energy that end with a jump into a knee-high deep puddle while we are walking side by side and climbs on the kitchen counters, oblivious to the glass bottle of olive oil resting tensely on the edge. Also, the day he decided to leisurely stroll out a cafe where we were sitting and turn right. Out of sight. On a busy road. Oh and the peculiar requests in the middle of the night.