2 ½YEARS OLD EWAN’S BLOG – TALKING: BIRTHDAY BALLOON & CAKE

2 ½YEARS OLD EWAN’S BLOG – TALKING BROTHER’S BIRTHDAY BALLOON & CAKE

Does it seem longer than two weeks to you since I did a blog by myself. It certainly does to me. And, wow, so much happens in my life, I can’t keep up with it all.

One thing I have already learned in life is that time slows right down from September through to Christmas. In fact in the month of December time almost stands still. No, I did not read it, I just know from the personal experiencing of two Christmases.

So what do I have to tell you? That’s a good starting point, “talking”. My talking, (speaking) has come on in leaps and bounds.

But all the adults in my family: Mum, Dad, Granny, Mamma, Grandad, Grandad (David), Auntie NanNan, and Uncle ColCol, hear what they want to hear. They hear me say “horse” and “bot-bot” and “lion” and “bye-bye”. But low and behold they conveniently can’t tell what I say when I say “Please may I have a Milky Bar, not your traditional slab of milk chocolate Milky Bar, do you know, but the one shaped like Brother Rory with blonde hair and dressed up in cowboy gear.”

Or when I say: “Please may I borrow your smartphone or tablet in order that I might check out the value of my Experian stock and the exchange rate between the US dollar and the Euro.”

“Ahhhh, hark at him,” they say patronisingly, “He’s telling us such a little story.”

B******* is what I say. They know exactly what I’m saying but choose not to understand me.

Ok, so nursery don’t always pick up on what I’m saying either but it’s their job to ignore me. They’ve got another two thousand six hundred and seventy two children, give or take two thousand six hundred and seventy two to think about. Please do not take those numbers too seriously. My counting leaves a bit to be desired once I get between thirteen and fourteenish.

Going back to my talking, there are a few obstacles in my way when it comes to learning to talk. No I exaggerate. There is only one obstacle: Grandad. Has anyone heard the way he speaks and I spend 98% of my waking hours with him?

Well, ok, then, 98% of Tuesday afternoon’s waking hours with him.

My life is all about running and talking. Sometimes I get the two mixed up and talk when I should be running or run when I should be talking. That can cause me trouble.

I did a lot of talking and running at Brother Rory’s 5th Birthday Party. Wow, imagine being 5 years old. It is so old. Twice as old as me. I try to do anything and everything but sometimes I don’t manage it. But when you are 5 years old you really can do anything and everything. And, even more exciting, you get to go to real school.

I’ve visited Planet 5, but just visited. I wasn’t granted a visa to stay, they rejected my application on the grounds that I was too young. Red tape and bureaucracy, that’s what it is.

Now he is 5 years old I bet if we went to the zoo he’d get to cuddle a lion too.

He had his birthday party at this massive aircraft hanger. Mum said it was the Leisure Centre. But I think she got that wrong. The room was so massive. It was far bigger than my bedroom and Rory’s and even Mum and Dad’s. Think of the biggest field you’ve ever seen, double it and double it again, put a floor on it and four walls around it and a roof on top, stick a bouncy castle and football nets in it and you’ve got what Mum calls the Leisure Centre (aircraft hanger).

But the very best bit of all was his birthday cake. Mum knows this cake Fairy. She takes real live things like Gruffaloes and Trolls waves her magic wand over them and says, “Izzy, wizzy let’s get busy”  and turns them into cakes. When it was my Dad’s 40th birthday she even took a golfer and a golf course and turned that into a cake.

I don’t think she is allowed to go on Bake Off because she is so brilliant she would win every time no one else would get a chance, taking the bit of fun that’s left in the programme out of it.

Her name “With a Cherry on Top 123” You can contact her at https://www.facebook.com/WithaCherryonTop123/

Some of the magic that goes into the cake goes into your tummy and makes you feel fantastic and magical. Mum says I have to be careful what I say about that because it could be interpreted as something naughty. I think she means all the chocolate in it.

There is a chocolate mountain hidden in the cakes. Apparently children become hyper with a chocolate fix. You can’t tell any difference with me I am hyper all the time anyway.

Like I said there was a bouncy castle, football goal nets, soft play, loads of food, hundreds of children ( I think they were included in the cost of hire of the hanger) and a balloon lady.

She was not a lady made of balloons, she made things out of balloons. A balloon artist. She made Brother Rory  a red racing car. That was a little disappointing: you couldn’t sit in it, it had no wheels, no seats, no baby seats and not even an engine. An engine is easy to make with balloons.

So Mamma queued up with me to get me a balloon sculpture. I thought I want something that looks good, something I am interested in and is functional. So I asked for a cow.

The balloon cow was amazing. I fell in love with it straight away. Love at first sight. It looked realer than a real cow and had a bright red nose just like real cows do. So I called him Rudolf. But Grandad says all cows are girls. Another Grandad joke I think.

The problem was the cow balloon showed up a very disappointing, no, a devastating weakness within my family. Inevitable the balloons went down and burst. I was out of my mind with sadness.

But, I knew Dad would sort it. He can fix anything and everything in life. He always has. But do you know he couldn’t fix my cow! He can construct a major fish pond, he can work the complicated TV remote that flumuxes most folk and he can cook a mean pasta.

But he cannot do a simple thing like mend a burst balloon. He’s such a wimp and let down.

That reminds me of a terrible Grandad joke about balloons and being let down.

“The balloon family are in bed, during the night there’s a thunder storm and the baby balloon is scared so he goes to his parents’ room and tries to squeeze in their bed.

It’s tiny so he lets some air out of his dad but still can’t get in so he lets some air out of his mum but he still can’t get in.

Desperate needs, he lets a lot of air out of himself and then fits in.

In the morning his dad is furious.

He says “Son you’ve let me down, you’ve let your Mum down, but most of all you’ve let yourself down”.”

On that note, I think I’d better be off.

Bye Bye.