James Proclaims!

Last Monday’s post was written on the preceding Tuesday when I was off work and trapped at home on a rainy day, with both of my children temporarily ‘out of action’. One was napping and the other was absorbed by a handheld device in a manner that suggests that I am potentially a much worse parent than I am. Not that I make any claims on being an especially good parent, but if I am a bad parent then getting a tablet to occupy my child so I can ignore her is not something I am often guilty of. I find that the TV does a sufficiently adequate job of occupying both children that I rarely even remember that I have the option of the tablet.

As I write this, both of my children are conscious and are watching the TV. It is, in fact, the same Tuesday as it was when I wrote my last post. Indeed, although a week will have passed between the two posts hitting the blogosphere, barely an hour has happened between me finishing the last one and starting this one. This is all part of my cunning plan to write enough posts in advance that I don’t allow the kind of absences from my blog that have pretty much been the hallmark of my site since the arrival of daughter number two in April 2022. Indeed, were it not for a pandemic-fuelled flurry of activity on these pages between March 2020 and March 2021, it would reasonable to accuse me of maintaining an irregular blogging schedule since the arrival of my first daughter in 2018.

But I am determined to be a better blogger moving forwards and if the only way to achieve that is by writing about the same, fairly boring ,rainy Tuesday afternoon then so be it.

In point of fact I’m not actually ignoring my children while I write this. I’m trying to ignore them, but they won’t let me. I’m wearing my beloved wireless headphones, listening to 90s rock music and staring at a computer screen, but they insist on interacting with me in spite of the antisocial signals I’m putting out there. Little Proclaims is ensconced in imaginary play, in which I think she is playing the part of a midwife to her stuffed toys. One of them (a toy dachshund) appears to have given birth to conjoined twins (two pugs wearing onesies, both of which have a kind of keyring attachment that she has used to link them together). It’s quite an intense game, and I appear to be playing the role of a consultant surgeon who she needs to update on the progress of the twins. The aloof indifference I am bringing to the role rather seems to fit the character I’ve been assigned.

Mini Proclaims is, meanwhile, raiding the art supplies of her older sister. I am aware that if I don’t monitor her that some part of my house will acquire an unexpected mural. I should definitely try and stop that from happening, but in some respects that ship has already sailed so many times that additional wall art is not going to make a huge amount of difference to the existing portfolio.

I am also cooking their evening meal as I write this, but as that meal consists of a baked potato for each of them, I am able to leave most of the heavy lifting to the oven.

In the background the TV is still playing. Occasionally one or both of my daughters will stop to acknowledge the moving images but neither of them are truly watching the show. If I dare to turn it off though, I will be subject to incandescent rage so I don’t dare even consider that move. Thanks to the marvels of the modern age, I am able to ensure that all the cartoons ignored by my children are played through the medium of French. I’ve previously mentioned the impact this has had on the linguistic development of my eldest child (who does seem to be very much bilingual at present) and it’s clear that Mini Proclaims formative language acquisition is more French than English, which should hopefully lead to her mastering both (the English takes care of itself by virtue of the fact we live in the UK). Of course some credit must go to my wife, who does generally converse with the children in French (she is not any more French than I am, but significantly more academically able), but I do think that TV has played a significant part.

And if nothing else, playing the cartoons in French would certainly make me feel less guilty about ignoring them. If only they would let me…