Archive for January, 2009

Gah! Crawly Creatures!
January 27, 2009

Jethro crawls, and he’s getting faster each day.

It moves. Its movement pleases it.

It moves. Its movement pleases it.

In contrast, his parents are getting more nervous each day.

And completely unrelated — some photos involving dogs:



Kelty watching over Jethro -- as usual

Kelty watching over Jethro -- as usual


The Baby-Industrial Complex
January 5, 2009

There are some things that I’ve meant to write about that I just haven’t really had time to capture. At some point in the past, before Jethro made his appearance, I think I complained about the evil of pram travel-system branding. But some details were missed out and other marketing injustices omitted.

Collateral Damage does an entertaining job of covering all the key points I’ve been too lazy to address. I think you guys will like it. Give it a click.

Jethro in his first theatrical production
January 1, 2009

Stage backdrop close-up

The absurdity of some of the things that the creche that Jethro attends strikes me as quite amusing.

Before the end of last year, Tiny Town sent us a newsletter informing us of the upcoming end-of-year play, taking place at the end of November. Jethro wouldn’t yet be 6 months old by the time the play was due to take place.  Since the crèche takes children up to the age of 6, Angie and I felt that it was safe to assume that Jethro would not be attending because what the hell could he possibly contribute? His skill-set at that point in time extended to sitting on the floor, bashing small objects haphazardly into other nearby objects, and saying, “Daaa da da da” as the bashing ensued.

So we were a little surprised when Angie went to the crèche to collect Jethro one Friday, and was handed a package with Jethro’s costume for the concert, taking place the next day.

“What concert?” asked Angie incredulously.

She was met with wide-mouthed, dumbfounded stares. “The end-of-year concert,” the teacher managed to force out of her larynx.

“But surely Jethro is too young?”

More hurt facial expressions.

In the end, we just accepted our fate and rescheduled our plans for that Saturday. When we got to the crèche, with Jethro all kitted out in his autumn sapling outfit, there was nobody there. We phoned the organisers to discover that the venue was at a nearby church hall. Mad rushing ensued, and we eventually made it, even getting there on time.

To be honest, it was actually quite fun to watch the show and have Jethro paraded around in a little pram to some peculiar “Four Seasons” musical score. I surprised myself by how much I enjoyed and could relate to watching the other kids perform and proud parents being ridiculously proudly parental, because I was one of them. I belonged in this place where I never before saw myself belonging. This place where fathers made home videos that no-one else would care to see, and this place where parents rushed forward to stage to get into a better position to take a photograph when their child came on to the stage. Complete idiocy, but idiocy that just felt right.