Bob the Builder [canwefixitBobtheBuilderYESWECAN!)

We are having ceilings and walls replaced. We’re living surrounded by decanted stuff, and everything has a thick layer of brick dust on it.
Leo doesn’t care. Bob the Builder is at his house.
And in timely fashion, in a batch of loaned clothes from Isaac came a Bob the Builder top. Which is worn whenever available.


Confession part 2

We found out what Leo was doing that was naughty, and led Helen to tell him off. He was running around disturbing other children at ‘circle time’, and preventing the storytelling. And he was doing it by sitting on other children.
So Helen was quite right, though she was worried we’d be cross. I said she was absolutely right, and then Helen said ‘the only other time i told him off was when he hit Daisy’ (we all know what it means when a little boy hits a little girl, don’t we…).
I told Helen she was absolutely right and should tell Leo off whenever he’s doing anything like that. She was a bit relieved!
Earlier she had told Claire that Leo is very good at apologising to other children when he’s been naughty, but that he is reluctant to do so for one of the adults. She said he has to pout for a bit first, and will often spend some time afterwards glaring at them or stomping off from any activity they’re leading.
So, while adults are the most fun they’re also the most annoying. Fair point.


A fascinating evening with Leo. I walked into nursery, Leo seemed fine but he burst into tears when he saw me. From then on, he was grumpy – nothing was right, from toast to jigsaws. I asked him if he was cross. He said he was. Then, ‘are you sad?’
But still grumpy. Later on I asked him, ‘are you cross with one of the children at nursery?’
‘Who are you cross with?’
‘Helen,’ he said.
She’s one of the carers, a few years older than the others – at least 25! I thought for a bit, then asked ‘what did Helen do?’
‘She shouted at me.’ he said, with a kicked-puppy tone and gaze.
‘Were you being naughty?’
‘Yes,’ he said, in sheepish sort of voice, and hung his head a little.
He wouldn’t or couldn’t tell me what he’d done, but he cheered up immensely after this exchange and played happily until bedtime – even saying hello to the plumber (a complete stranger) when he arrived.
I think it’s amazing that his behaviour would so clearly indicate some sort of unresolved problem, something he hasn’t yet worked through, but most of all that he could come to some reconciliation of it in himself by talking about it.