2 Year old Ewan’s Blog 2nd Birthday

 17th February 2017










Hi Ewan here.

I’ve learnt over the years that birthdays are really special and exciting. OK its only my second one, but I’ve seen lots of other people’s birthdays, Brother Rory, Mamma, Mum, Dad, Grandad David, Granny, Grandad, and Cousin Freya, I can’t remember Cousin George having one. But he sees me as his leader and he does tomorrow what I do today. I don’t mean he’ll have a birthday on 18th February: he’ll need to think about it and organise it. Take till about May, I think.


Being two is so exciting. A real landmark birthday.  Mamma is noted for doing things very precisely to the book. If some bread has a use by date of 17th February she’ll let Grandad eat it right up until 12.59pm on 17th February. But if they’ve been out as sometimes they do and get back at 00.01am on 18th February. She wouldn’t let him eat it. I’m not old enough to understand what would happen if he did. Would he explode, would he implode, would he disintegrate or end up in jail maybe? I wish he would eat some out of date food so I can see what happens. It would be worth losing him to find out. She’s just the same with my toys. There is always a suitable age printed on the packaging. I am only allowed ones that say up to 18 months old.


But I am so excited when I am 2 there are so many new ranges of toys I can play with. A lot of Rory’s toys too. They stop me playing with Rory’s toys, obviously because I am not old enough. Not any more.


I decided to stay up until midnight.  Mamma banned me from playing with the Lego Duplo Batwing Adventure Set (Batman) because it is 2-5. I can’t wait to play with it as soon as I hit 2. (The problem is she stops grandad playing with me with that too because he is a bit over 5 years old). Also I can’t wait to make the Ravensberger 16 piece Gruffalo Floor Jig Saw Puzzle (Suitable 2+ Years. That alone is worth staying up for. It is scary though to think what might happen if I tried to play with it before I’m 2.


The other thing is when I am 2 years old I will be a year older I will be bigger, taller and different. I need to be awake to see that all happens to me.


I protested loudly when mum tried to get me to go to bed the night before my birthday. How could I get at Rory’s toys for 2 year olds, I’ve been barred from for 2 years, that’s right all my life just wishing my life away waiting until I was two so I could play with them. That tine was just 4 hours away and mum was insisting on bed.


Where was Dad in this emergency? He would understand. Men do. But Dad was out of action he was ill. It was more than manful he said to mum. It was bad because it made his beard grow lots. It was all due to a fight he had with the old dishwasher.


He was taking out our old dishwasher on Monday and dishwashers are a nasty piece of work. I suppose anybody would be if all you did all day was wash dishes. So it hurt dad’s hand and his arm swole up and went all red.


So I went screaming to my bed. I don’t know what happened but the next thing I woke up, it was morning and I was 2 years old!


But something major had gone wrong. I looked at myself. I felt myself. I was still exactly the same as yesterday, when I wasn’t two. I panicked. What’s gone wrong?


But when I got up Brother Rory sorted me. He’s had lots of birthdays, infact four that’s twice as many as me, so he knows all about them. He says you change gradually, not overnight like I thought. Phew that was a relief.


We were going to Thomasland to celebrate today but Dad’s illness is worse, his beard is thicker, longer and he is more miserable. So we are not going. Why take it out on me because the dishwasher fought back?


I searched everywhere and all the two year old stuff had disappeared from the landscape. How annoying but there was a heap of presents for me all wrapped up. I quickly discarded the wrapping and found hundreds and millions of farm animals. Pig, cow, horse, sheep, sheep dog. And some books, proper books with flaps to lift on every page. Not ones like mum has where you have to go through pages and pages of words long before you find a flap to lift. Where’s the fun in that? Boring!


The problem was, where was my biggy present. I have always had a biggy present for my birthday. Ok I know I have only had one birthday before but I had this superb set of wheels, a shiny, blue, trike someone pushed me around on instead of the restricting pushchair.


Then I remembered the delivery men yesterday. They delivered a new dishwasher. Dad’s dead scared of dishwashers, now, so he had them put it in the garage, until he’s built up the courage to tackle it. But that will be my biggy present. They know how much fun I get from pressing the buttons, turning knobs, opening the doors and watching the flashing lights on the clothes washer. I really need to climb inside something like the dishwasher to check it out. So I guess they bought me a dishwasher of my own. Rock on, Mum and Dad. Best Mum and Dad in the world ever… especially when it comes to presents.


The day gradually progressed well.


Me, Brother Rory and Mum had a brill time at Rufford Park.


I missed Thomasland but Mum and Dad promised we would go in the future Brilliant! Can’t wait! Saturday then that’s sorted then. No said Mum. Might even be two weeks on Sunday. That is ages away, it’s a good ten years, I’ll be driving my own car by then.


But I soon forgot because Granny came with lots of birthday treats. Dad’s beard was getting longer and thicker which meant he was very ill. It was so thick and long I thought he ought to see a doctor. Granny is Dad’s mummy and she looked at his beard and insisted she take him to the doctor. That’s what Mums do. My mum takes me to the doctors. But because children like me do not grow beards when we are ill it is difficult to tell if we are ill.


Do you know the rhyme: Five little monkeys jumping on the bed,

One fell off and bumped his head.

Mama called the Doctor and the Doctor said,

“No more jumping on the bed!’.


Well I made a new one up: My great big daddy taking out the dishwasher,

Trapped his finger and so it bled.

Granny called the Doctor and the Doctor said,

“No more jumping on the bed!’.


They gave him lots of medicine. But it won’t work. To get better medicine goes in a special magic syringe and mummy squirts it in your mouth and then you are better. Daddy didn’t do that, he’ll never get better.


Then Cousin Freya, Cousin George, Auntie Nan-Nan and Uncle Col came. Mamma and Grandad followed. I thought Grandad wouldn’t miss out. They all came bearing gifts and cards. It was like Christmas, although I didn’t feel that ill (remember I had chickenpoxat Christmas) infact, I didn’t feel ill at all. There was a tremendous party atmosphere, by that I mean lots of deafening noise.


To heighten the tension Mum had to dial 111 to check if Dad was allowed paracetamol with his medication because he had got worse and had a temperature and was shivering. I think he had broken out in a cold sweet looking at the mess to clear up and all the washing up needing doing after the party.


Everyone joined in the new party game: How long will it take 111 to ring back.


I went through the birthday cake candle blow out ritual yet again just to keep everyone happy.


A special birthday treat was Mamma giving me my bottle. But then they put me to bed. I’m not stupid I knew if I went to bed my birthday would be over. So I protested, loudly. But no one took a blind bit of notice. So I went to sleep. Being two is better than being one, its fun and rhymes with “Boo!” What a fantastic birthday.


Bye! Bye!