Archive for December, 2012

Posted: 24/12/2012 in Uncategorized

the long awaited story of my fathers Arusha trip

Birding in Zimbabwe

Hi all

When we were in Chizarira ANBM mooted the idea of us going to the 13th Pan-African Ornithological Congress. By road !

He kept up the pressure and suddenly we were definitely going. With a fully packed vehicle, passports, GPS and some maps we left Harare at 04h00 one morning and entered Mocambique at Nyamapanda and by 09h30 we were in Tete on the Zambezi river.

We had  crossed the border into Malawi at Dedza by about 14h30.  This little town is named after Dedza Mountain which rises out of the plains.

Now most people heading north in Malawi would proceed to the capital, Lilongwe. Us ?  No chance – east it was to be – to Lake Malawi ! It appears quite suddenly and is a delight to view its vastness.  We followed the lake shore via Salima, Nkhotakota and Dangwa by which time it was quite dark. Eighteen kilometres…

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I was hoping for this to be a Happy Christmas, life is good I retire tomorrow post, you see today was the last day of my boys going to nursery, The Monkey Boy has been there nearly two years and The Bug for about seven or eight months.

The Monkey has been running a mild fever on and off for the last couple of days which we’ve been treating as all parents do with kiddies paracetamol solution and in all honesty he’s been pretty miserable, today though he woke up bright as a button and excited about going in to school to see all of his little friends. I successfully deposited The Bug in his room but was stopped at the door to The Monkey Bugs room and told although it was his last day he wouldn’t be allowed to come in as he had a slightly red bloodshot eye and he would need to be seen by a doctor to confirm he didn’t have conjunctivitis before they’d let him in.

To say that I’m livid that not only did I have to take more time off work, thankfully only a couple of hours, to run him home as Mrs BC is off today, but mostly because they wouldn’t even let him say good-bye to all the  friends he’s made in the last couple of years.

I know he’s only three and doesn’t even understand that he’s never going back but I still think that they were being overzealous, cruel, pedants. Even if the kid does have pink-eye (which I’m 99.9% certain he doesn’t) they’re closed for the next two weeks so they wouldn’t have to deal with the fallout.

Refund ha, you’ve got to be joking, so today we have paid approximately £40 for them to be cruel.

This might explain why we have taken the decision to stop sending the boys to spend their days with excitable jobsworths with minimal training and spending their days with me their loving father.

My normal approach to children’s illness and maladies reads something like the below

Is it bleeding?

Yes

Is it bleeding a lot?

only a little bit

Is the blood blue?

No

You’ll be fine then.

Unfortunately in today’s health and safety conscious, litigious times they and all nurseries, schools etc. need to make sure that they cover their own rear ends from ambulance chasing lawyers. Gone are the days of tough school nurses in heavily starched pinnies pouring on some iodine or even better mecurechrome and sending you on your way with tears pouring down your face from the sting. To be fair in the case of mecurechrome it did actually contain mercury and was pretty bad for you, but who cared it dyed your scabby knees bright red as a badge of honour. Today the only course of action is “Oh my god” assume the child is dying and insist on the parents removing the child from the premises.

Enough, I’m being an arse, it’s done, the they don’t have to go back anymore, I’ve only got one day left of work and I can resume my stance of here have some biscuits it will be fine.

TTFN

Mr Bunny Chow

I’m reporting on someone else’s hearing here although he did repeat it to me later I thought it so hilarious I have to share it with all of you.

The Monkey was at nursery and one of the teachers/nursery attendants/nurses/ladies who look after the kids (dunno what her real title is) Charley decided that she would race him at some jigsaw puzzles I don’t mean to brag about this or anything we’re not talking two or three-piece jobbies either but decent thirty or forty piece puzzles. Still the race ensued and my little Monkey Boy thrashed her hands down. This is not the best bit though. Upon completion realising he’d won he uttered the wonderful “I am a genius Charley”.

It wasn’t a fluke either, feeling shamefaced and not just a little embarrassed at having been whupped by a not quite three-year old Charley sealed her humiliation by declaring that hers was too hard and that they should swap puzzles. Lo and behold my angelic, smug faced little Monkey Boy beat her again and said “it’s ok Charley because I am a genius”

He must have his mothers brains because I still have mine.

It must be wonderfully refreshing to be able to be so forthright and smug without the guilt that later life instills in us at being better than others, victory was his and he rubbed it in, I am very proud.

Three days left in my life as an office worker, they are dragging a tad….

TTFN

Mr Bunny Chow

Once again I’m stealing posts wholesale from How to be a Dad but thought that in the interests of public service I should share these tips with my fellow males who may be too young to have not learned this lesson for themselves. By the way you can easily swap in the “O” (Censored) for the “W” (censored) does my bum look big in this argument and end up in just as much trouble.

anyway without further adieu

enjoy the below

TTFN

Mr Bunny Chow

The Age Guessing Game Wheel of Misfortune

Generally speaking, women don’t tend to be hardcore fans of the word “old,” or even “older.” So, to play it safe, I’ll avoid using the words at all here. Also, my wife reads my posts and to be honest I hate being responsible for making her cry. I’m also pretty partial to my testicles remaining attached to my body, so you’re going to have to suffer through some word workarounds and blackouts.

My wife was born before I was. (See how clever that was? Still, wish me and my two-piece set of man marbles good luck.)

Years ago, before we were married, I was brushing my teeth one night and she asked me if I thought she looked [CENSORED]er than I did. That’s precisely when I decided to reveal my secret identity as the dumbest man this world has ever known.

I shrugged and said… “yeah.”

I said it casually, because she did get a head start on me at being born, and also because I had no idea I was about about to die. A million times. Her sobbing let me know I could begin my millions of deaths.

Ugh.

So yeah. Some girls can get pretty touchy about their age. Freakishly though, this apparently doesn’t stop them from inflicting the Age Guessing game on hapless dolts like myself. I’ve seen it played countless times.

“How [CENSORED] do I look?”

However it’s asked, “How [CENSORED] do you think I am?” or “Can you guess my age? Tee hee!” None of these are questions! Don’t let the tee-hees fool you, these are commands. And what they are ordering you to do is to spin the wheel, say a number and then experience a fury that Hell ain’t got nothing on.

Ever since the “yeah”-of-a-million-deaths, I’ve refused to play this game. I won’t go near anything having to do with women’s ages. Not even girls. Or babies. I just never spin that Wheel of Misfortune. Except this last time…

My Last Spin

A few months ago, I happened to be in a conversation with a large group of writers. All women. (You can almost hear the whistle of the imminent train wreck, can’t you?) I caught one woman say something like “thirty-eight” and noted the consequent grunts of disapproval.

Then it was put to me. “How [CENSORED] do I look?”

After refusing for five minutes, even mentioning my deep-seated aversion to castration, I finally caved. Why, you ask? Why’d I cave!?! BECAUSE I’M A MORON!!! But further than that, because I thought I was safe! Like I’d gotten the tip-off of ages! Thirty-eight got that reaction, ::deep breath:: so I knocked eight years off and said, “Thirty?”

::BUZZER OF ULTIMATE FAILURE::

I couldn’t believe it! I overshot it!?! Her smiling face fell into very graciously concealed hurt. It turns out, of course, she was much younger. My eyes searched the crowd wildly for the woman who had pulled the pin on the misleading thirthy-eight grenade and tossed it onto my marble collection. Then I proceeded to break a land-speed record back-peddling, saying desperate things like, “No way! Heh! How could you be so young—heh heh!—and have accomplished so much and be such a great writer!?!” CTRL+Z CTRL+Z CTRL+Z!

I was so flustered, I really don’t remember much immediately after that last spin of the Age Guessing Wheel of Misfortune. I may have said to the air, “Pat, I’d like to buy a vowel and a cyanide capsule, please.”

Never again. NEVER!

At least not until the next time.

–The Dumbest Man this World Has Ever Known -aka- Andy

Facebook Like us on Facebook and I will never guess your age. NEVER!!!

Instructional Diagrams Probably best if I just make pictures and don’t say anything.

Another classic of the logic of a nearly 3-year-old.

“Daddy my arms sore” why is your arm sore my darling? “Because it’s hurting”

you just can’t argue with that sort of logic

have a great weekend

TTFN

Mr Bunny Chow

These are all plausible reasons why my nearly three-year old might be screaming his lungs out at any given time, this list is not exhaustive and any wants can be swapped for doesn’t want and vis versa.

432858-Baby-And-Toddler-Boys-Crying-Poster-Art-Print

  • He has no yoghurt
  • He wants purple juice
  • He wants monkey yoghurt
  • He doesn’t want purple juice
  • He has the wrong trousers
  • He wants Pirate Scooby Doo
  • He has the wrong top
  • He wants elephant yoghurt
  • Someone’s mentioned a shower
  • Someone’s mentioned the Hoover
  • The dog licked him
  • He’s tired
  • He wants a wirrel yoghurt (squirrel)
  • There’s a cat in his bed
  • He wants his farmer coat
  • The Bug (his little bother) is wearing his clothes
  • He wants his wellie boots
  • He wants Scooby Doo on my phone (you tube)
  • He’s not tired
  • There are car seat monsters
  • He doesn’t want to go to school
  • There are monsters in his room
  • The gate is locked
  • He wants blue juice
  • We’ve attempted to wash his hair
  • He wants medicine
  • He wants Fireman Sam
  • He doesn’t want medicine
  • He wants a plaster
  • Ethan called him a little boy
  • He wants digger juice
  • He doesn’t want Santa
  • He wants to sit on the naughty step
  • He wants Mickey Mouse
  • He wants his Mickey Mouse top
  • He wants Pirates (Jake)
  • He wants a story
  • Sit with me Daddy
  • The Bug hurt him
  • He doesn’t want to get out of bed
  • He wants other one socks
  • He wants ebra yoghurt (Zebra)
  • He wants Baby Scooby Doo (A pup named Scooby Doo)
  • Shhhh!!! The Bug is sleeping
  • He wants a hedgehog yoghurt
  • He wants other one yoghurt
  • He wants to watch Race Cars (Disney Cars)
  • He wants to watch other one race cars with daddy (Formula1)
  • He wants his pillow
  • Don’t want duvet
  • He wants Winnie the Pooh one bed sheets
  • He wants a biscuit
  • He wants to ask Mummy
  • He wants toast
  • He wants other one noonoo on his toast (any type of jam or sauce, started out as Nutella)
  • He wants Scooby Doo pasta
  • He wants his picture taken
  • He doesn’t want to go in the pram
  • He wants a Daddy cuddle
  • He wants a Mummy Cuddle
  • He wants to cuddle That One Bug
  • He wants to ask Nanny (Grandma BC not an actual Nanny)
  • He wants other one Scooby Doo pasta. (pre-cooked in a tin vs normal pasta shapes)
  • He wants red one cheese
  • The Bug has something he wants
  • He doesn’t want presents
  • He doesn’t want a smack bum
  • He wants that one cereal, no not that one cereal other one cereal
  • He wants to sit on his potty
  • He’s itchy
  • He wants to wear sandals in winter
  • I don’t understand what he’s asking for
  • Mummy said no
  • Daddy said no
  • He doesn’t want to go on the slide
  • His bum smells
  • He wants an animal one nappy (diaper)
  • His finger is hurting, why is it hurting? because it’s sore Daddy
  • It’s been snowing
  • He wants Cat-Mouse (Tom and Jerry)
  • The cat took offense to him collapsing on it
  • He has to go home.
  • He wants to sun on.
  • He can’t find his…….
  • He wants fish fingers
  • He wants me to pick him up
  • He wants to stand on The Bug
  • He just wants to
  • He wants the music on
  • He wants Pom Bears (nasty reformed potato snacks)
  • He wants Mouse cheese
  • He wants his Mater toy
  • His balloon popped
  • Don’t want Pooh want Tigger one
  • Because he can
  • Daddy stood on his foot
  • He has to brush his teeth
  • The bath tap is running
  • His food his hot
  • Because there is no point in being two and eleven twelfth’s unless you can be terrible
  • He wants two biscuits
  • He picked his nose too hard
  • He bit himself
  • Daddy cut him while clipping his finger nails
  • He has to go to the doctor
  • It’s morning
  • He’s lost the power of speech and I have to guess

That will have to do for now

TTFN

Mr Bunny Chow

I wasn’t witness to this one personally as Mrs BC drew the short straw last night by virtue of the fact that she didn’t have to work today (using up holiday time to go Christmas shopping)

still when it was reported to me this morning I thought it more than worthy of a post and a virtual medal for Mrs BC and her strength of character in not capitulating to his demands at three in the morning.

When The Monkey boy awoke at 01:30 this morning it was with demands for juice, then at 03:00 his demands were slightly more amusing.

“Want Daddy cuddles” to which the response was “Daddy’s sleeping my Angel” which was followed by the next logical response “Want wake Daddy up Mummy”

As I said Mrs BC is amazing and just put him back to bed, she’s an amazing woman.

TTFN

Mr Bunny Chow

We’ve always been very lucky when it comes to our kids sleeping patterns, by and large they have slept through the night and well into the morning from a very young age with nocturnal disturbances normally only brought about by illness.

I am a good father and not at all like the father in this post by the genius demigod of parenting Amber Dusick

http://crappypictures.com/what-it-is-like-to-not-sleep-at-night-illustrated-with-crappy-pictures/

Whaddya mean you’ve never read her site, go there now, come back here later, I’m pretty boring anyway.

intermission-title-still

Oh good you’re back now as I was saying for the last four nights in a row though our very nearly three-year old Monkey Boy has fought us over going to bed to the point where one of us is forced to sit with him until he eventually falls asleep. This would not be so bad if he didn’t then repeat the process and awaken his younger brother with vast amounts of wailing and sobbing again at two in the morning.

I don’t know if he has picked up on the impending changes in his life or if he’s just over excited about Christmas or simply over tired. I do know though that these late night thrombies are fraying the nerves of both Mrs BC and I.

We’re at a loss as to what to do, threatening him doesn’t work, the naughty step doesn’t work, removing Scooby Doo doesn’t work, smacking him doesn’t work, ignoring him makes him louder and disturbs his brother even more, begging doesn’t work, shouting doesn’t work, crying doesn’t work, cajoling doesn’t work, I’m out of things to try short of putting my pillow over my head and hoping Mrs BC comes up with a solution but even that doesn’t work because it results in acts of violence being meted upon me.

Any tips for a fractious sleep deprived family gratefully accepted.

TTFN

Mr Bunny Chow

I was planning on using these posts purely for comic effect but I have to report on this one and anyway sod it it’s my blog I can do and say what I please.

after last weeks chaos with children’s lurgy induced stay at home dad before I’m supposed to be a stay at home dad the return of the boys to nursery and me to my penultimate Monday in the office was a little rushed this morning and as such I probably didn’t handle or deal with this utterance with as much excitement or deference as I should have done at the time, in fact I think my response to Mrs BC when she pointed it out to me was something along the lines of “that’s nice Dear, but we’re late”. This has weighed rather heavily on my mind all day and I’ve realised that I’m a complete arse and should instead have lavished said child with praise and adoration.

What can I say, I’m a prize arse who’s not much good with mornings, especially mornings when I’m running late.

I hear you cry from the peanut gallery “what was this darn utterance from your progeny?”

I stress again, I’m a total arse, who should be strung up by his short and curlies by the gods of karma.

Todays utterance came from my youngest and was quite simply “Dad”

God I’m a prize arse.

He’s been babbling for some time now and we’ve had plenty of “mamamamama’s” and “dadadadadada’s” but this was quite clearly “Dad”.

I cannot wait until the end of next week when I remove myself from the rat race and can properly dedicate my heart and soul to my dear sweet innocent boys to the extent that they so rightly deserve.

Sometimes we just have to slow down and consider what’s important in life, would it really have mattered if I was two minutes later for work? No not really, I’m the boss anyway and even if my boss who’s not been in today had queried it, what was he going to do, fire me?

Sometimes in life you do things you wouldn’t dream of doing if you thought about them.

I really hate myself today.

What an arse I am.

TTFN

Mr Bunny I’m an Arse Chow

I’m hoping that this will become a semi regular mini series with its title pinched from the genius that is Bill Cosby and the idea from the twitter feed Sh*t My Dad Says 

Mrs BC and I were awoken at 03:09am this morning by an unholy amount of screaming initially from The Monkey Boy and followed shortly by the bug.

I of course leapt out of bed and dashed to the rescue with absolutely no kicking or prompting from Mrs BC to find The Monkey Boy standing at the top of the stairs with tears streaming down his rosy little cheeks.

My sympathies of course clouded in fug of sleep, I still managed to ask the poor traumatised little tike what was wrong to hear the words, “Stood on the cat Daddy” now why he was wandering around the house at three in the morning to stand on the cat is unknown and with the whole household now awake, and at least two of them screaming blue murder it was time for a yoghurt party, yep you’re reading that right Mrs BC and I both had to get out of bed and feed these sweet little angels yoghurt at three in the morning to placate them before they would go back to sleep.

Today’s caffeine intake has been high.

TTFN

Mr Bunny Chow

P.S. any thoughts on the snow now falling down the blog page (only available via the main site www.mrbunnychow.com)