Tag Archives: silly

conversations with my toddler #3

My toddler is twenty-six months now (how did he get so old?!) and his language is getting better all the time. He speaks in sentences and even strangers are starting to be able to understand him although I mostly still have to act as translator.

minions talking

Mind you, there are times when even I struggle to work out what he’s talking about… like in this conversation we had at the lunch table the other day:

Toddler: *putting down sandwich to speak (so this must be important)* “Mummy?”

Me: “Yes sweetie?”

Toddler: *brightly* “Woo da dotta ow?”

Me: “Er… sorry poppet, what was that?”

Toddler: *slightly more forcefully* “Where da potter foul?”

Me: *Still baffled* “Where’s the…? Sorry, can you say that again?”

Toddler: *leaning forwards and looking at me earnestly* “Where da dotter howl?”

Me: “Um… sorry, I still don’t understand what you’re asking for…”

Toddler: *loudly and forcefully* “Where. The. Potted. Owl?!”

Me: “Oh! The potted owl!” *looks around wildly*

(we don’t have a potted owl)

(what even IS a potted owl?)

(I offered him a biscuit.)

Little Hearts, Big Love
Conversations with my toddler #1 – Toast
Conversations with my toddler #2 – Wheels

Harry Potter limerick (limerick challenge #24)

Since we gave him the first Harry Potter book for Christmas, my seven-year-old son has been obsessed with all things ‘Harry’. He’s read the first three books repeatedly (he wants to read the fourth but I keep putting him off because lovely characters are murdered in it!) and seen the first two films, his bedroom wall is covered with the pictures he’s drawn of the characters and synopses he’s written of the books, and he also writes his own Harry Potter stories.

His love of the books has even rubbed off on his five-year-old brother who now also draws masses of Harry Potter pictures too and is valiantly wading through ‘The Philosophers Stone’ himself despite it being at the extreme outer limits of his reading ability.

Harry Potter and Dumbledore

By my five year old – On the left: Harry Potter dancing (above Hogwarts and the Hogwarts Express) and simultaneously kicking Voldemort while dementors fly above. On the right: Dumbledore.

Given all this, it was clear that my ‘Limerick Challenge‘ – where my sons choose a theme, I write a limerick and they illustrate it – was going to venture into Harry Potter territory at some point. This week it has. Here goes:

 

Harry Potter, a famous young wizard

Cast a spell to make light in a blizzard

But distracted by flakes

He made some mistakes

And turned himself into a lizard!

 

Harry Potter Lizard

By my 7-year-old: Harry Potter in a blizzard, accidentally transforming himself into a lizard.

In case you’re not acquainted with Harry Potter, a ‘spell to make light’ would be a ‘lumos’ spell. My seven-year-old decided that a lizard spell would be ‘liliros’ so hopefully you can see how, if caught in a swirling snowstorm, Harry might make this mistake.

As usual it’s silly, although it’s not one of my favourites I have to admit – I prefer writing weird ones about animals that talk and fart and try to get jobs on aeroplanes and, y’know, stuff like that- but there you have it. My boys were very pleased with it anyway!

Prose for Thought

yellow

When I saw that ‘The Prompt’ over at Mum Turned Mom this week was ‘Yellow’, I figured it might be time to give my daffodils poem another airing. I say ‘my’ daffodils poem but in actual fact it owes rather a lot to William Wordsworth  (since it’s a silly version of his poem ‘I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud’) and a great deal to my granddad with whom I co-wrote it about twenty-five years ago! When I was a child the two of us would often write silly poetry together and this is one of my favourites. I can still remember sitting together one mealtime, throwing lines across the table and laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

daffodils

I Wandered Lonely as a Puff of Smoke

I wandered lonely as a puff of smoke
That floats from a chimney and over the hills,
When all at once I saw a bloke,
Carrying a mass of daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Swaying along on rubbery knees.

His face was flushed as red as wine
With drooling mouth and vacant gaze,
He followed an erratic line
Staggering in a drunken daze.
Ten dozen saw I in his arms
Stolen I’m sure from nearby farms.

The waves frothed wildly at his heel
Yet he was far to drunk to see.
A passer-by could not but feel
A portion of anxiety.
I gazed and gazed then watched him take
A tumble deep into the lake.

When later on my couch he lay,
In much apologetic mood
Recalling how I’d had saved the day
He was struck with gratitude.
Yet to this day pure horror fills
Me at the sight of daffodils.

 
And in case that’s left you yearning for the original:
 

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

By William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

mumturnedmom

 

Nikki Young Writes

What sort of writer are you? – a quiz!

Do you ever feel like there are so many different things you want to write you don’t know where to begin? At the moment I’m trying to write picture books, a psychological thriller and an adventure story for kids. I’m also slowly putting together a book of ghost stories and there’s an idea for a book – which is possibly Young Adult – that I’d love to explore too. Oh, and then there’s this blog.

Where should I focus my attention? Am I wise to be trying to write so many different genres? Should I just pick one and concentrate on developing my abilities in that area instead of spreading myself so thin?hanging booksIf these questions sound at all familiar then FEAR NOT, HELP IS AT HAND! A recent study from The Institute of Silly Suggestions has indicated that there is an easy way to work out which genre you should be dedicating yourself to.

As Professor Random Speculation explains, “Our investigations revealed that what writers eat and drink is an excellent insight into the type of writing they are most suited to.” Professor Tenuous Link added, “Simple things, like a favourite hot drink or snack can give clear indications of where they should focus their energies and talent,” while her colleague, Dr Wildly Implausible also commented, “We’re adding the finishing touches to a questionnaire right now which, when answered honestly, will give dazzling insights into a writer’s future possibilities.”

And guess what? By extremely clever and devious measures, here at Writing Bubble I have managed to get my hands on an advanced copy of the aforementioned questionnaire. It’s yet to be formally published so you are one of the very first writers in the world to be able to read and make use of it. Just answer these six easy questions and reveal your destiny!

***

Question One: What is your usual breakfast?

A – Cereal in the shape of smiley faces or animals. Or smiley-faced animals.

B – Crumpets with runny strawberry jam that oozes out of the holes and across the plate. With a very sharp knife.

C – You flit from cereals to baked goods on a whim but generally, as long as it’s sprinkled with sugar, you’re happy.

D – Toast cut into triangles and presented in a sterling silver toast rack. With butter in a little dish.

E – You rarely eat breakfast. This morning you couldn’t reach the table due to levitating three feet above it in your prototype hover slippers. Last week you tried to cook sausages in your thought-powered frying pan but got distracted by a new brilliant idea for suggestive bedding and things got a little out of hand.

Question Two: What’s your favourite biscuit?

A – Malted Milk biscuits dunked in milk. No, Jaffa cakes. I WANT BOTH!

B – Jammy dodgers. You like to gouge out the centres with your fingernail before devouring them mercilessly.

C – You prefer cupcakes with pink frosting.

D – Shortbread on a fine bone china plate with a doily.

E – Whatever they’re serving on the jet.

Question Three: What’s your usual lunch?

A – A soft-boiled egg with toast soldiers.

B – A burger with lots of ketchup – you like the way it squelches out and drips on to the plate with every bite.

C – Pancakes with sugar, raspberry sauce and chocolate sprinkles.

D – Cucumber sandwiches.

E – It’s hard to eat on a camel.

Question Four: What’s your favourite hot drink?

A – Hot Ribena.

B – Black Coffee.

C – Hot Chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows.

D – Tea – served properly in a proper tea service and with lemon, not milk.

E – Your current favourite hot drink is one you devised yourself recently, it’s like a cross between coffee and a summer’s breeze with a hint of spiritual awakening. Might be your best beverage yet.

Question Five: What’s your usual evening meal?

A – Fish fingers and potato smiles. With peas on the side to flick across the room.

B – Steak. Rare and bloody.

C – Steamed fish and green beans – you are trying to lose weight after all – washed down with something fizzy.

D – Grouse with vegetables before retiring to the drawing room.

E – A slap-up feed somewhere fancy before your premier.

Question Six: What’s your favourite Tipple?

A – Orangina

B – Whiskey on the rocks in a smokey bar.

C – Gin and tonic or gin and biter lemon. Or just gin.

D – Whatever your butler fetches from the wine cellar.

E – Champagne… especially on a mountain peak – the altitude does wonders for the flavour.

 

That’s it – time to interpret your answers!

Mostly A’s – You should be writing for children. Now run off and play.

Mostly B’s – You’re clearly cut out for the Crime/Thriller Genre. Actually I’m a bit scared of you.

Mostly C’s – Chick lit. (Call me later I’ve got some juicy gossip to divulge.)

Mostly D’s – Historical novels. People did things properly back then, didn’t they?

Mostly E’s – With those achievements I assume you’re writing your autobiography. Probably in a hot air balloon over the Andes. (Either that or you’re a brilliant fantasist…)

Mostly none of them, all of them or any of them depending on your mood – You’re a blogger at heart with the ability to mix and match according to what appeals to you and your readers. Have fun!

***

I hope that has been revealing! Let me know what what you learned. ;)

And in all seriousness – Do you think there are any traits that can be associated with particular genres? I’m almost tempted to set up my own institute and do some some research!

Writing Bubble

piranha care

piranha

Artist’s impression of a piranha… oh ok, MY impression of a piranha. I never said I could draw.

My boys sing a lot – all manner of things from ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’, to ‘The Final Countdown’ to Katy Perry’s ‘Roar’. Many of the songs my older two (seven and five) sing are ones they’ve learned at school – often songs about recycling or friendship or, given that our village school is C of E, hymns. A favourite one a while back was a version of the Lord’s Prayer which my then-four-year-old managed to mishear in quite spectacular fashion. So far I’ve failed to write it down anywhere so I thought I’d blog about it now, as I really don’t want to forget it!

The correct words to the hymn are: “Our Father, who is in heaven, may your name be honoured and praised.”

My son’s version is slightly more… interesting. Wandering round the house one day I overheard him singing enthusiastically:

“Our Father who works in heaven, may you maim piranhas wrong way!”

I could just imagine him singing that at school – he’s a really enthusiastic singer too so I can clearly see him sitting on the front row and belting it out joyfully. I could hardly bring myself to correct him.

Is there a right way to maim piranhas do you suppose? Answers on a postcard…

Little Hearts, Big Love

I want…

mumturnedmom

 
This week’s prompt over at Mum turned Mom is “I read the news today”. My first thought when I saw it last Sunday – two days after ‘Black Friday’ and the day before ‘Cyber Monday’ – was of all the stories I’d read about frenzied shoppers, and of violence and mayhem breaking out as people desperately fought each other for bargains that they possibly didn’t even really want and certainly didn’t need.

I’m all for grabbing a bargain and I want to buy nice gifts for friends and family this christmas as much as the next person, but it was clear that last weekend consumerism had got out of control.

So I wrote a poem about it. Not a sensible, highly political poem you understand, but a poem nonetheless.

 

I Want

 

I want…

Can I have…

Could you quickly get me please

One of those

Two of that,

And then three or four of these?

 

I want…

All these lovely things

That no one else has got

And of those

That my friends have? –

I’m going to get a lot.

 

I want…

One in green. No,

In red, no blue, No PINK!

Or perhaps one of each

Would be better

Don’t you think?

 

I want…

That huge, tall one

And this that’s oh, so small

And a round one,

A flat one,

In fact, I WANT THEM ALL.

 

And when

I’ve got everything

What shall I do? What then?

It’s simple

I’ll go back out

And buy it all again!

 

limerick challenge #21

purple unicorn
My last post was on a heart-wrenching subject so I felt in need of something lighthearted… time for another limerick challenge! This time I wrote about a unicorn. My sons provided the inspiration and illustrations as always. The black-winged, purple unicorn is by my five-year old and the distinctly dragon-y one below was carefully drawn by his big brother (aged seven).

As usual, please forgive bad rhymes and general ridiculousness!

 

There once was a job-seeking unicorn

Who filled in a flight-staff recruitment form

But aeroplane seats

Don’t fit mythical beasts

And the poor thing looked daft in the uniform!

 

Unicorn uncomfortably wedged into an orange and blue uniform

Unicorn uncomfortably wedged into an orange and blue uniform (I think he’s decided not to board the flight)

Prose for Thought

My Button

limerick challenge #18

penguin

Penguin

The boys asked me to write a penguin limerick a while ago. This weekend I finally managed to come up with the necessary ridiculous rhymes. I ended up writing two because I couldn’t bear to leave poor penguin in the difficult predicament! As usual my sons provided the illustrations:

There once was a tragic young penguin
With a beak that just kept on extendin’
It grew long and rubbery
And got caught in some shrubbery
Where his wailing was truly heart-rendin’

But luckily people nearby by
Responded to poor penguin’s cry
They untangled his beak
Got him back on his feet
Then all shared a warm apple pie

Penguin with his beack caught in the shrubbery - but don't worry! Help is on the way!

Penguin with his beak caught in the shrubbery – but don’t worry: help is on the way!

Prose for Thought

persuasion

20140911_123610-1I haven’t had much time for creative writing recently – the launch of ‘What I’m Writing‘ (my new linky) on Tuesday has been pretty much my sole writing focus!

So for #Prose4T today I thought I would share a piece of silliness that I wrote over the summer. I spent pretty much all my time entertaining three kids. It may or may not have been inspired by them:

I WILL not move
I’m here to stay
I’m sitting on
This couch ALL DAY!
I WILL not m-
What’s that you say?
A giant, gooey
Fudge sundae?
For me if I
Go out and play?
Well, I guess
That sounds okay
… since…
I was going anyway!

Of course I would never bribe any of my children. Nope. Not me.

(Well, not with a fudge sundae anyway – far too messy.)

Prose for Thought

moderation

cake

This week The Prompt over at MumturnedMom is “Everything in Moderation.” In response I wrote this silly poem:

On Moderation

“Everything in Moderation”
Sounds a sensible quotation
Except if it means deprivation
Of types of sugary confection.
For if I had to keep away from
Items of a sweet persuasion
There would be much lamentation
And perhaps some aggravation.
So – I vote that moderation
Bears precisely no relation
To cakes and sweets of delectation
For that’s the way to satisfaction.

mumturnedmom