As an opening conversational gambit, commenting that (should bird flu mutate into a human pandemic) I’d be dead in the first wave given my immune system falls a bit flat at the school gates. Can’t think why. I thought it was funny.

But then, the school seems so terribly serious about it all. An annual trip to see baby chicks hatching was cancelled this year because they thought parents would complain. They’re probably right, but it’s sad all the same. Maybe I’m starting to learn a healthy cynicism towards our media (probably long overdue) and refuse to get worked up AGAIN just because they insist the sky is really falling this time. There’s a great article on Spiked at the moment called Bird Flu and Chicken Little Culture which has probably contributed to my general apathy towards a solitary dead swan.

I am, however, quite gutted that pigeons are not considered carriers of H5N1 as we’re having a bit of a pigeon problem at the moment. I’ve never been a pigeon fan since I used to work close to Trafalgar Square in London and I wouldn’t have minded the excuse for an aggressive pigeon cull policy.

At the moment, there is one pigeon in particular who is being a right pain. He’s taken up residence on the roof of our extension, covering it in pigeon shit, only moving a short distance to our bird feeder or to dive bomb the kids when they’re playing outside, understandably freaking them out somewhat. When the skylight is open, he often pops his head through the window and coos in a “you can’t catch me!” tone of voice. That pigeon is just looking for trouble.

I shall get my revenge though. I have a plan. It’s my reverse bird flu experiment. Henceforth, I shall be coughing and sneezing over every pigeon that gets in my way, hopefully decimating the population… well, it’s got to be worth a try, right?

As you can see, Li’l Bhaji is still taking his old shoes out with him.

He got very upset when I kindly suggested his old shoes might better belong in the bin. In fact, you can probably still see his tear (he can cry at the drop of a hat – such a great skill for a toddler). He does like his new shoes now though – refused to let me put the new shoes in the cupboard – wanted them out in the living room where he could see them.

He just likes to let his old shoes know they’re loved too…

It was such a straight-forward mission: go into town, get Li’l Bhaji’s feet measured, come home. It had suddenly occurred to me last night that the last time I’d had his feet measured was during the Christmas holidays, and as you’re supposed to get them checked every 6 weeks or so, I’d been more than a little lax.

All went fairly well. Li’l Bhaji loves the shoe shop (he has a bit of a shoe obsession) and explored all the shelves (supervised well so he wouldn’t pull all the shoes into a loving collection in the middle of the floor). He allowed the strange woman to poke and prod his feet and looked on in bemusement when she measured them. I was slightly embarrassed to find that he’d grown a whole size since last we’d had him measured, but no harm done. The problem came when the new shoes were brought out for him to try on.

Identical shoes one size up (I’ve been very pleased with the fit of the old ones) but different colour as they had no brown ones in stock. The shoes were put on him. Immediately, Li’l Bhaji dissolved into floods of tears, and while sobbing his heart out desperately tried to peel the velcro straps open to get the new ones off. He was distraught, absolutely distraught and the only way I could get him to walk in them to test them out was to take his old pair and let him chase me round the shop trying to get them back (I am such a mean mummy at times). I felt even meaner when the only way I can get him to calm down so I can pay and leave the shop is to have him in the buggy CUDDLING his old muddy brown pair of shoes! He even ended up carrying his old shoes to school to pick up Akra Jr later on. I’ve obviously severely traumatised him.

Incidentally, I ended up with a jar of navy shoe cream. I tried to tell the sales assistant. Laughing, I pointed out that I wasn’t going to bother to CLEAN them. She looked absolutely horror stricken, so in my shame I ended up buying the jar anyway. I can’t be the only one who doesn’t bother to clean toddler shoes, can I? Akra Jr’s school shoes… yes… but toddler shoes?! Okay, I might scrub the crud off with a baby wipe from time to time…

It’s official, spring is here. We’ve had a lovely couple of days with lots of sunshine, albeit a little chilly still. My spring bulbs are almost out and my cold is starting to clear up (albeit slowly). I’ve had two loads of washing out. The kids are currently amusing themselves in the garden. Can life get better than this?

Unfortunately, as well as the spring bulbs, the ants are also out – we’re prepared this year though, and back in March I treated the perimeter of the house with ant spray, so hopefully we won’t get infested again. Which leads to an interesting moral dilemma. On the way home, Akra Jr noticed the ants and asked if it would be okay to stamp on them (I’m not totally sure why he asked my permission, but still). Now given that I loathe ants and, in fact, have even treated around our house with the intention of killing any ant that dares to come within a few feet of us, should I have let him stamp on them?

Being the fluffy bunny-hugging liberal that I am, I told him he couldn’t. I know… boooooring.

Okay, it’s silly. Okay, there’s even a high chance I’ve posted about it somewhere before in the last 3 years. But damnit, it’s good.

The Best Stress Relief Ever

12 noon has been and gone so I should be safe from foolin’. I do confess to a quick chortle over Google’s jape this year though: Google Romance (be sure to take the tour).

I hope you’re proud of me. I managed to drag myself out of my sick bed to get all my photos done for this month’s Wheel of the Year, despite cold from hell and grumpy mardy children.

In other news, it’s Pewari’s Prattle’s third blogaversary today. That’s right … three years I’ve kept this up. Not bad for someone who isn’t good at following through on ideas, eh?