12 June 2013

on summer holidays and memories

Looking at yesterday's post I have realise I might have a jellyfish obsession. It could be worse I guess! Had a chat with friend L about what else I might go on to do to stop my brain shrivelling and she was suggesting I look at doing a MOOC qualification (click the link, it's quicker than me explaining).
I've been having a browse through the available courses this morning and it surprised me just how much free learning there is out there. The next question will be whether I trust myself to actually do something on my own.
Distance learning is not necessarily my friend...
In regards to what I spoke about yesterday, I did get a response... a vote for discussion of psychological theory... Perhaps not today though! However, I may well come back to that one day when I can't think of anything else to write about ;) Not that I actually really do much planning of what I'm going to write about.
You'd never guess, would you!
So, erm, what am I going to write about today?
I have started to dread the summer holidays already. Six weeks is such a long time to spend entertaining a small child. I remember it being so different when I was younger. I couldn't wait for those massive holidays. The days that seemed to never end and the constant sunshine (funny how you never remember the days when it rained non-stop).
I remember my mum taking us on picnics with friends and exploring new places. Digging on the beach and splashing in the sea. We baked biscuits. We made cakes and scones and played with salt dough.
My mum must have been tearing her hair out! I only remember how much I loved it. How my brothers and I would be allowed to go places as long as we were together. Mum's theory being one of us would be able to run back for help if needed (can you even imagine that attitude now!).
She must have loved those days when we played out. We would take our bikes/ball/imaginations and go off for a morning and come back at the allotted time for lunch. Then out again until tea, and sometimes afterwards as well. I don't think kids have those freedoms any more and I think it's so sad for them.
I remember being bored. Now that isn't a fun memory, but I remember my mum would make suggestions and we would make all sorts of things to do instead! Imagination and problem solving seem to be disappearing from our children.
Madam is quite good at it as she's always been left to her own devices. She tends to use her time doing destructive things and it drives me insane, but I guess a child developmentalist (that is *not* a word!) would see it differently. She, in her way, is being creative. Exploring her environment and changing it to suit herself. She is playing games that she controls. Using that impressive inner voice to tell her what to do.
She just seems to be incapable of remembering how cross some things might make mummy. But she's four. What happens when your pour some flour out? Hmm, does that happen if you pour more? Oh. There's none left. Now what? I know, lets see what happens if you get it wet!
Yes, she has done that. She also once wondered whether the toilet rim block tasted as nice as it smelled (it doesn't, and you get to go to hospital). The morning she wondered if pooh made a good painting medium also sticks rigidly in my memory!
Oh, and she's squeezed out toothpaste and discovered it won't go back in when you've done that (she did try). She also plays with sticks. Her sticks are wands and swords and lightsabers (hehehe). They are spades and brooms and giants.
She questions things and she has to know how they work. This is exactly the same as her uncle D! She asks pertinent questions that adults can't answer. Mummy, what are people for? being her finest example... Why does the moon shine was also a favourite, but I answered that.
And I do answer her. Not make up some rubbish to keep her quiet. On the bus yesterday she'd rolled up the ticket and told me she could use it as a piggy tale in her making. And I asked what else might it be, she couldn't really think of anything so I asked her about a book she'd had with a butterfly in. And she said, oh, it could be the proboscis (that's the proper name for a butterfly's tongue!).
I honestly thought she'd say tongue. I taught her the proper word in September. She has not used it since... I was just hoping she'd remember the stupid book in the first place...
Mind. Blown! 

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