Wrath, and comedy timing, of the gods

As if Zack wasn't good enough at getting himself into bother, I've just added to his woes myself by catching his poor little finger whilst hammering a spike into the lawn with a 2x4.

Yes I've just hit my toddler with a 2x4 and I realise how bad that sounds. And probably is. Unfortunately, I lost track of his whereabouts in the garden for a second, only for him to appear right by my shoulder, arms outstretched, presumably trying to help.

I can't begin to express the feelings of guilt and horror I experienced as I realised what had happened. Fortunately I did only just catch him and his finger is not broken (or missing).

Now we're both over the shock, I'm taking a strange small comfort in the fact the gods, ever vengeful, have already started my punishment.

Disneyland!!

Zack is a serious fan of the Playhouse Disney TV channel and therefore a big fan of Mickey Mouse, Winnie the Pooh, and all their respective chums. When considering holiday plans for this year we knew that Disneyland Paris would be a big hit and long had in mind a visit around September time. However, given our recent news we decided to pull our trip forward and spent three days at the resort this week.

Now, I was going to write a long boring breakdown of every moment, but I've gotten the dumb idea of writing a story inspired by it instead. I don't suppose it will be any good but I am quite enjoying doing it at the moment. I don't suppose that will last, but whilst it does I'm going to spend my time on that instead.

So, here is a quick run down of our little holiday...

We stayed in a hotel in London last Sunday and travelled to Disneyland on the Eurostar from St Pancras on Monday morning. We took the Eurostar from London last time we went to Disneyland (from Waterloo that time I think) and found it to be so quick and easy that I didn't really think to hard about travel options. Or the fact that we had Zack with us this time. If I'd had any sense, I think I would have arranged to drive to Ashford in Kent and take the Eurostar from then.

But it was fine and Zack was an angel on the train there. He also had no idea what was going on. Until we got to the hotel to find Minnie Mouse dancing in the lobby. Then he had absolutely no idea what was going on but seemed to understand it must all be a Good Thing.

Check in - quick shuttle bus ride back to the park - scare boy out of his wits.

Yes confession time: we terrified our not-yet-two year old boy by taking him on a ride where it all got a bit dark and scary. And yes, this was the first thing we did when we got to the park. In our defence, we only made this mistake once. On each day.

Rides we shouldn't have taken Zack on:

Day 1 - Blanche-Neige et les Sept Nains (I have just discovered that in the Californian park, this ride is called Snow White's Scary Adventures!)

Day 2 - Peter Pan's Flight (not really scary, just dark in places)

Day 3 - Pirates of the Caribbean (scarier than I remembered it being!)

[Before Vicky reads this and makes me do it, I'm adding this note clarifying it was all, entirely, my fault ;o) ]

Never mind. Each fright was successfully remedied with help from a ride on Dumbo the Flying Elephant. The Dumbo ride was absolutely Zack's favourite. Apparently a bit scared of the dark but not of high or fast moving rides; this at least gives me hope that, at some point in the future, I will no longer have to queue for all the best rides on my own!

The other highlight for Zack was definitely meeting all the characters, and he did meet, kiss and cuddle all of his favourites.

All in all it was a great trip and Zack had a terrific time. We were blessed with beautiful sunshine and my only other regret was (a) shaving my head just before we left, and (b) not taking a hat. The burning has now eased though I'm still rather flaky. *eeew* ;o)

Codename AC: I'm getting even Daddier

Last weekend, I had the very great pleasure of letting my Grandma tell my Grandpa that he will soon be a Great Grandpa for a second time. As she spoke, she did not realise she was also telling the rest the family in the room, who up to that point had no idea themselves. A great moment and a lovely finish to the weekend.

Presumably caused by the presence of my single sister and not-quite-married-yet brother, there was also a strangely entertaining silence that lasted for the several seconds until Grandma clarified: "Victoria and Jon are having a baby!". Then there was joy and excitement all round.

Would you like to meet it?

No, wait, I need to straighten something out first: I've never been happy with "it" for an unborn child. I can't imagine I'm alone in finding "it" far too....inanimate? impersonal?

Anyway, it's a problem because how do we know whether to go with 'he' or 'she'? Well we don't; not for a couple of months yet at least. With Zack I think I went with 'he' pretty early, partly because we were quite keen on having a son first time around.

Second time around it feels a little different. Another son would provide someone to go in goal whilst Zack and I played 'Wembley' (yes I know girls can play football, I just don't know girls who can play football). However, a daughter would complete the set, and I should imagine add another level to the whole experience.

To make matters worse I'm writing this all down now. I wouldn't want my daughter looking back to see I called her 'he' throughout the pregnancy and assume I had wanted a boy, or vice versa.

For a while I considered 'they', but that is just too plural. Having had the scan yesterday, I can now happily and confidently state that there is no need for the use of plurals. *phew*

So, 'he', 'she' and 'it' are all out. Which doesn't leave a lot. After much thought (well some...OK a little) I decided to make up a random codename. Some of you will know why I've picked the codename 'AC' and will quite rightly think I'm a moron. The rest of you: don't worry about it.

Now back to the point. Would you like to meet AC?

He She It AC looks an awful lot like Zack did at that age. Seriously though, even now Zack still has that tummy ;o)

AC is due to arrive on 25th September.

Zack has a tendency to call Vicky and I "Mumm-ee-ah" and "Dadd-ee-ah". I'm wondering if all of this actually takes me from 'Daddy' to 'Daddier'? Though I'm not sure I'm happy with describing Genghis Khan as 'Daddiest': http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genghis_Khan#Descent, so I might have got this wrong.

I'm also wondering if 'Daddy's Diary' would have been a better title than 'Jon's Journal'. In any case, the topic will no doubt dominate what I write between now and our September ETA.

Tea and bed time again.

x

The Man, The Legend, The Great Granddaddy

Last weekend we flew to Northern Ireland to celebrate my Grandma's ninetieth birthday.

We got off to a great start when, within minutes of arriving at the B&B, our wonderful host Margaret produced freshly home-baked biscuits for us all. Despite this, I still think the highlight of the weekend for all of us was Sunday's Family History session.

The old photo albums came out; we had the normal laughter at pictures of Dad as a kid, and we found the perfect precursor to my brother Rofl's classic Pearson Ears in pictures of my Granddad's Uncle Victor. We also discovered that in addition to the seven of my Grandma's siblings we knew of, there were another three who died in infancy: her mother Margaret had eleven children in just thirteen years!

Of course, there was also the retelling of what is probably the classic Pearson family story. The one about my Great Granddaddy Alfred Pearson. In the trenches. No? Oh, OK then...

My Great Granddad, Alfred Pearson, fought in the trenches in the Battle of the Somme and survived. Just.

At some point during the Battle, Alfred heard news that three boys he new from back home in Lurgan, the Hobbs brothers, may have been killed. He requested permission to leave his post temporarily to check the story out. Sadly he found the news was correct: the Hobbs brothers were amongst over three hundred thousand men lost in that battle.

When Alfred returned to his post, he discovered that an enemy shell had landed there whilst he was away, killing yet more of his comrades. Had it not been for his venture along the trenches, my Great Granddad Alfred would certainly have been killed with them.

And he would never have fathered my Granddad, so you will see why this is a particularly powerful story for all of us that followed in the Pearson family tree. Indeed, every time my Grandma tells this story she finishes by emphasising her belief this happened for a purpose, and that all of us who have existed as a result have an important purpose of our own. Where I am in my life today, I can't think of a much greater purpose than being a father to Zack and I can begin to explain how completely fulfilling I continue to find the whole experience.

I hope that in the future I might be lucky enough to have grandchildren of my own, and that they might hear this story retold. I like to think that when they do, it will hold a mythical, legendary quality for them. I hope it will make them stop and think about their purpose in life.

Which brings me on to my next point: the climax to the weekend. But now it's time for tea and bed so that will have to wait until tomorrow.

Clusmy and tough in equal measure

It would appear that my boy Zack has inherited his Auntie Hayley's clumsy streak.

Yesterday I left him playing in his room whilst I used the bathroom. When I returned he was missing, which was strange as the safety gate was shut across his bedroom door. Then I heard a bang and a yelp, and pulling back the wardrobe door I found him wedged between the first and second shelves, well and truly stuck.

A short while later I was sat, here, typing on the computer when Zack cried out, clearly panicked. I looked up to see him stood with a bucket wedged over his face, the handle hooked round the back of his head. Oh dear...

Yesterday's 'Trilogy of Horrors' was complete when Zack decided to play his favourite game of throwing toys up in the air. Unfortunately, on this occasion he chose to substitute the normal stuffed teddy for a hard wooden zebra. Which he caught with his face.

I wasn't entirely surprised when my mum informed me today that he had thrown himself backwards and cut the top of his head on her fireplace. A nasty cut but luckily no need for stitches and no signs of concussion. *Sighs*

Zack could well turn out to be a Proper Boy: all adventures, excitement,

danger and injuries. Which is great. But it is also scary.

Fortunately, I can take comfort in my comparisons of Zack to his Auntie Hayley: she takes great pride in the fact that out of me and my siblings, she is the only one to have never visited Accident & Emergency. As she says:

"I am clumsy and tough in equal measure"

Here's hoping my dangerous boy has inherited that toughness too!

Because 140 characters just isn't always enough

I've been loving Twitter recently, both following others and tweeting myself.

And I've been tweeting quite a bit. Not so much for the benefit of my hoards (eight) of followers, but more as my own rambling little journal. I've never really been able to keep a diary or journal before but the idea that somebody else *might* just read it seems to help.

Anyway, I've recently begun to suspect that some things in life might just be too big for those 140 characters per tweet. Don't get me wrong, that limit is absolutely what makes Twitter work and is why I love it. But, just sometimes, you need something bigger.

So here it is.

Unfortunately, I still don't have much more purpose than an extension to my rambling little journal, so you probably won't want to read it.

But that's OK, because sometimes I will read back over this, and I'll remember things, and I'll smile. And more exciting for me is that maybe one day my children will read it, and maybe they'll smile.

Then again, they might just cringe with horror and make a hasty return to playing on their hoverboards.