Open Evening!

It is that time of the year, where all the schools are holding open evenings for prospective parents for the next academic year. I've got away with this for the the last few years, but this year, it was our turn.

As I have mentioned in previous posts, my two babies are growing up, and this year sees Miss. D starting her GCSE studies in Year 9  and Miss. L entering the final year of her primary school education. It's scary to think just how quickly the time has passed by, but pass by it has and now we are looking at secondary schools (again).

A Public Apology to My Teen

I have an apology to make to Miss. D. You see, she has been looking through my blog, apparently with a fine tooth comb, and has picked up on an absolutely dreadful error. It's almost too terrible to return to; I am so racked with guilt. I cannot believe I did this. I am a terrible mother!

What on earth have you done that is so bad (you terrible mother)? Well I have wrongly taken credit for doing something I do not do. I am so embarrassed.

A Serious Word

I knew it! I looked at that face, and I just knew that he'd been up to something, I just wasn't sure what it was!

No Mum, I didn't do anything! I am a good boy!

There I was signing into my social media accounts and that's when I discovered what Max had done!
Hmmm, he clearly thought the cute factor would convince me he hadn't done anything, but he forgot that I have set new posts to pop up on Facebook and Twitter automatically, hence, Little Orange Dog is busted (I've always wanted to say that, perhaps I spent a little too much time watching Phineas and Ferb)! Oh Max, you cheeky, cheeky boy!

Hello from Max!

Hello, Max here. Don't tell Mum that I have been using her laptop. She doesn't know that I am a clever boy. She thinks I am a bit stupid, but I'm not. I am clever!

Mum spends lots of time on laptop and I wanted to see what she has been doing. There are lot of pictures of me. I am a handsome boy! I know because Mum always tells me I am handsome! I love Mum so much! I want to be like Mum when I grow up, so I am helping her now by doing some writing for her. I am a helpful boy too! She will be very happy with me and I will get a treat.

She not give me many treats. She make me wait until I have been for a walk, then I get a treat. I like treats! Why do I not get more of them? Mum says I will turn into a footstool if I eat too much. I don't know what that is, but I think it doesn't get many treats. That is sad.

When Mum is on laptop, it look easy. Why it not easy for Max? My paws are bit big! Next time I will get Miss. L to help me. She talks dog, so she knows what I want her to say for me. I love her too. She plays games with me and she try to teach me tricks, but I not really like doing tricks.

Miss. D is nice too. I love her lots, but I growl at her because I seen how much she eats and I think she will take my food away or try to eat my toy burger. Mum never tells her she will turn into a footstool though. Why?

I got a cat too. She is called Sparkle. I want to be her friend. I try to play with her, but I no think she likes me. Sparkle always runs away and makes me feel sad. I just want to play!

Oh no! I hear Mummy coming back. I got to go now, I want to surprise her. I talk to you again soon.
Sssshhhhhh you not tell her what I done. Woof!

Tell Me the Truth...

So, that is my baby girl, Miss L, in a photo from quite some years ago. Cute wasn't she, and blonde too. She's still pretty cute, but she's not little anymore and this week, I've had a few reminders that she is indeed growing up.

First a letter from school came back explaining the transition to secondary school and how to apply for secondary school places. Confession time, I've not looked at it because a) I know what to do, I did it a few years ago, so I'm pretty confident I can manage this process and b) how is my youngest old enough to be looking at secondary schools, did I not just apply for a place at primary? Note to self, look more carefully down the back of the sofa, that lost time is definitely hiding somewhere! Don't get me wrong, I most certainly will not be crying at the secondary school gates when she trots off to big school next September, but I am a little, teeny weeny bit in denial about it because the time really has flown by! Also, I need Miss D to outgrow her blazer so I can hand it down to Miss L (isn't that what you're supposed to do?).

Today, I had a Facebook Memories notification pop up on my news feed from 7 years ago. This one broke my heart a little. You see, from a very young age and until about 5 years ago, Miss L, couldn't say 'footprints'. It was so adorable. If you asked her what her feet left in the snow, she would tell you 'pootfrints'. I told you it was adorable. I just love the way that children get words wrong. I remember the first time that she said 'footprints', I was so sad and ironically Facebook reminded me of it this week, the week that I have had to pop my big girl pants on and face up to the fact that this little one is now not so little.

I picked Miss L up from school (I hasten to add, I do always pick her up from school; the school's tend to frown upon you if you don't collect your child), and we started the drive home. She's usually quite quiet on the way home from school, but then she asks the question I've been dreading... 'Mum tell me the truth, is the tooth fairy real?' Noooooooo! Not only has my baby girl asked the question, she's asked exactly the same way her sister did and at the same age. I am sad, but I can't lie to her so I have to tell her the truth.

Miss T. Fairy will shortly be putting her home up for sale!

So, yes I told her the truth and as expected she asked if it was myself whom left the money and took the tooth, again I told her the truth. Then she said that it was okay, I didn't have to leave the money anymore, I could keep it and buy myself something instead. Now I feeling even sadder, she doesn't want to even play 'tooth fairy' anymore.

However, it gets worse. It gets much, much worse, because the next question is, 'So, is Father Christmas not real either?' My world fell apart, now no one in my house believes in Father Christmas and I am sad, sad, sad!

Father Christmas will not be looking so jolly this year!

Of course, the stockings will still be hung up by the fire place, and we will still leave out the milk and mince pie for Santa (and a carrot for Rudolph), but it won't be the same. And on Christmas morning, the girls will come down and happily empty the contents of their stockings, but again it won't be quite the same. I suppose that on the plus side, I could now ask them to leave out a cuppa for Santa, or better still a glass of wine, as I really don't like milk! You see, there's always a positive side to everything!

Dinner Time!

Now, I am not really one for sharing recipes or pictures of food etc, but today I have to break that cycle. First, because K has asked me to share some of my cheats recipes and secondly because tonight's dinner was super yummy, if I say so myself. It was also stupidly easy!

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Sausage and Bean Bake...

Apologies for camera shake, I was a little hungry!

I've been making this for a few years now after finding it in a cookery magazine; don't ask me which one, I can't remember what happened last week let alone where I found a recipe years back. Anyway, it's become something of a firm favourite as it is so simple to make that you could almost do it in your sleep.

Do You Know What To Do?

I've been a little quiet this week, which has probably been a bit of a blessing for you, lovely reader as it's given you a nice break from reading my rambling posts about all sorts of stuff and nonsense. Awfully, sorry to burst your bubble, but I've been away on a course and said course has got me thinking; and we all know what happens when I think, you get another post from me.

I think the picture at the top of the page gives it away a little, although I will excuse you if you know me well and, therefore, assume I have had yet another accident, but no, I have in fact been on a two day paediatric first aid course. Hence the plasters, because small people always need a plaster (or 5); some of them have a bit of a plaster obsession, don't they? Miss. L still loves a plaster. Any excuse and she's sticking one on! However, I digress, yet again.