Redefining “Awesome”

Niamh Ann Purdie
Then… (Photo credit: Iain Purdie)

Many words get “redefined” these days. Picked up and used in ways which, historically, make no sense. Some are niche, others become more common.

For instance, remember when something being “bad” meant it was good? And that a skateboard trick being “sick” doesn’t mean it need to see a doctor?

Then there’s the word “awesome” which I am guilty of (over-)using. Specifically, it’s got quite a narrow range of meaning. The Oxford Dictionaries define it as:

extremely impressive or daunting; inspiring awe:
the awesome power of the atomic bomb

In the last couple of years, they’ve added:

informal extremely good; excellent:
the band is truly awesome!

Why do I bring this up? Well, today is my youngest daughter’s first birthday. A whole year surviving in our household is no mean feat, especially as you get older and start annoying the adults more and more…

But what I want to get over is that she is awesome. And I don’t mean she’s simply extremely good, or excellent. Alestorm are extremely good, or excellent. Niamh inspires awe. She is utterly, wonderfully, jaw-droppingly amazing.

How on earth I managed to have something to do with the creation of something so mind-bendingly incredible is beyond me. That is awesome.

...and now.
…and now.

How she grew from something the size of a pin-head to a huge lump of flesh and bone which can now toddle, smile cheekily, dance to Airbourne, open toilet lids and feed the dog from his own bowl (the bits that she doesn’t steal for herself)… that is awesome.

And we have two others – one voted the top pupil in her year by her peers recently; the other getting a perfect incident-free report from nursery for two years, who’s become addicted to libraries and about to move to “proper” school. They’re awesome, too. Not just excellent – they inspire awe.

So if you have kids, I really hope that every day you spare a little thought for how ridiculously, incredibly, incalculably unlikely it is that two cells each became those things you spend half your time wishing would just shut the hell up.

And if that’s not something to inspire awe, I don’t know what is.

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Fathers’ Day

Two of three

Best thing about Fathers’ Day is having kids. This year a special shout out has to go to Ellissa. I know we don’t get on a lot of the time, but she made me really proud last night at her dance show.

She’s really been putting work in. Even better than she was last year and I’m sure I saw a few of her group following her lead when they weren’t sure what was next.

Then there’s Little Mister who’s qualified for a place at the school I work at, despite his speech/language issues. He’s come on like you wouldn’t believe the last year or so.

And of course, Littler Miss just continues to amaze. Every day a fresh challenge with that one…

Careful what you say…

swearing in cartoon Suomi: Kiroileva sarjakuva...
Asterix would be proud (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We had a little household incident the other day which some may find amusing.

A couple of years ago, I used to take great delight in asking Little Mister what a big boat was called. His mispronunciation of the word “ship” was, to my childish sense of humour, the best thing ever. Especially when I asked him to say it louder as I hadn’t heard. And louder. And louder.

While in the check-out queue at Asda.

This time we has a slightly more private and accidental experience. Words have been changed to make things a little more family friendly. I shall leave it to the reader to translate into “gutter”. I’ve also slightly changed the names, but if you can’t guess who the people are then I recommend you begin your education again with Topsy and Tim just to keep things nice and simple for you.

Mummy Hen (that’s one of the characters I’ve renamed, by the way) was making dinner the other night. Unfortunately, she burnt her hand on one of the oven trays and let out a fairly sincere “Cluck!” (sort of).

Seconds later, a small song was heard from the dining room. Little Mister Hen was singing – to the “Go Compare” tune – “Clucking Bell! Clucking Bell!”

Over. And over. And over.

It’s very hard to tell a child small chicken off when you’re laughing so hard, especially when they don’t know they’ve done anything wrong

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That Moment…

Misty all snuggled up
Misty all snuggled up (Photo credit: Iain Purdie)

…when the screaming banshee you’ve been battling with all day finally falls asleep and you remember that the snoozing bundle you hold in your arms is the most precious and amazing thing you’ve ever encountered.

This lasts until she wakes up screaming again, around the time you are just drifting off yourself.

[please note – this post is about the daughter, the photo is of our cat. Those who cannot tell the difference should not, at this moment at least, consider parenthood]

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Translating the “WAAAAHHH”s #27

Just to give you an idea of what your baby is really saying when all you think is that they’re screaming their head off for no apparent reason.

You: No, you can’t have it.

Baby: But I want it!

You: No. No. Daddy’s.

Baby: WANT!

You: OK, you can hold it. But it’s not for eating.

Baby: As if I’d listen to you.

You: There, see? No, not in the mouth!

Baby: I told you I was going to try to eat it. Don’t you listen to me? Dude, I’ll try to eat anything.

You: You can’t eat a banana with the skin still on, silly.

Baby: Who are you calling silly? I’m a baby. I don’t know any different. This thing tastes horrible, by the way. Who lets a baby stick a damn unpeeled banana in their mouth? You’re the idiot.

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