Toys

How the mouse ran up the clock

If the government ever introduces Sats tests for the under-twos - surely only a matter of time - this could be the toy to have at your disposal. Hickory Dickory Clock (sent to us for review by makers Bright Minds, who specialise in toys that are educational and fun) works just like they say in the nursery rhyme. Mice run up and down, powered by infant hands. Youngest daughter Button (15 months) and I have spent hours - yes, literally hours, a tomato sauce even burnt dry one time - sat on the hall floor with this toy. Button enjoys posting the half dozen mice - all different colours - down the chimney. The mice are small, the perfect size for toddlers to grip. Some rattle, other crinkle. Then she opens a door with velcro fastening to retrieve the mice from inside the clock - and stuffs them down the chimney all over again. The transparent clock face means Button can see the mice as they scuttle down. The clock hands move, clicking as they go. So obvious potential there for an older child learning to tell the time. One reason I like this toy is because it should have a longer life span than many I've bought. It comes with a handle, on which there are black and white abacus-style counters that Button examines. On the back is a mirror, now smeary from licking. The nursery rhyme associations give the toy an old-fashioned quality, I sing the verses to Button as we play; it's sturdy and well-made (though in China, like most toys these days). At £29.99, Hickory Dickory Clock is not exactly cheap, but we have already had a lot of pleasure from it and I'm expecting more. Unlike a lot of the stuff littering our flat, (yes, I mean you, Sparkle World Magazine) the toy looks sensible even when not in use. The carriage clock design means it can sit on a table, without looking like something I haven't yet got round to tidying away. If you are looking for a gift for a pre-schooler who's at the loading/unloading stage, this might not be at all a bad idea.

Posted 06 November 2009 13:32 | Number of comments: 5 | Comments

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Attachment parenting: a sticky business

We are having phone trouble. It's none of the usual suspects. I'm afraid I blame a pair of well-meaning New Age parenting gurus for the problem.

A while ago I bought a book on babies by a California paediatrician and his wife. They've got eight children themselves. I reckoned they must know what they're talking about. They looked like nice people on the cover shot. Their philosophy is called 'attachment parenting'. Heard of it? Hugely popular in the US, less so in the UK.

Amongst other things, 'attachment parenting' involves: breastfeeding on demand, 'co-sleeping' with your infant, avoiding mechanical devices such as prams, rockers or bouncy chairs, 'wearing' your baby in a sling and, of course, natural birth. Being a bit of an old hippie at heart myself, I loved these ideas. I just couldn't quite translate them all into reality.

The authors never argue, but offer 'loving reminders' to each other. They write wistfully about a custom in Rwanda of not letting the baby touch the ground for the first six months of their life. Instead the local women carry their babies with them at all times, wrapped up in a cunning arrangement of knotted fabric. These women are so close to their babies they don't use nappies. They can just sense when the child needs to go.

The writers suggest that if a mother can't breastfeed, the baby's grandmother might consider re-lactating. Breastfeeding's so important, you see. I've mentioned this a couple of times to Granny, never with much success. She tends to clutch at her bosom and look affronted.

I did my best to follow their advice, and managed some of it. Beanie went in a sling, but I couldn't carry her for long without hurting my back. I breastfed. The one area where I followed their advice to the letter was their advice to invest in a cordless phone. To prevent accidents. Apparently a little-known danger to toddlers is mum wandering off to answer the phone. Or so they say.

When Beanie was born, Va-vay dutifully went off to buy cordless phones - after a 'loving reminder' from me. Eighteen months later, we spend half our lives hunting for the wretched things that Beanie has reallocated somewhere - pillow, toy basket, knitting box, or the rubbish bin. Even if we phone ourselves to find out where they are, they won't necessarily ring. No juice left. Mobiles aren't so reliable either these days. Beanie's fond of sucking on them. Helps her teeth.

Last week I gave Va-vay another 'loving reminder'. To buy us a conventional, corded phone.

Posted 31 October 2007 22:09 | Number of comments: 10 | Comments

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Happy campers

The first family holiday is a shock. Ours wasn't a holiday at all, not in the strictest sense. We worked harder than I've done in some paying jobs. It was hard graft. Day and night. Each evening I squirted my milk into a bowl and mixed it up with powdered baby rice for my daughter. I still remember the sound it made hitting the plastic. It was fun. But in an unfamiliar, cow-like way. I felt sad at losing the old freedoms. In private, I cried.

Back in the heady days of coupledom we used to book a cheap flight somewhere, then wing it, smug about being proper "travellers". We only once came to grief, descending from a Cevennol mountain to find a room for the night in the valley. A Festival de Cinema had taken all the accommodation in a 10k radius. No room in the inn. Again, I cried.

The nice monsieur in the local hotel rang round. After many worried looks, he found us somewhere and sent us off with rabbit stew for our supper. After all he'd done for us, I had no heart to confess my husband was vegetarian. The cottage was grim; no windows. The bed too small to accommodate me or husband. I woke several times with nightmares, unsure if awake or asleep. A long night.

We left the next day, both blaming the other, and got a room in the hotel, which all the actors had by then finally left. We stayed for two days, because we had no money and the one cashpoint in the village was in a shop that didn't open until for another two days. The hotel staff asked every time they saw me "Ca va mieux?", which seemed to translate as "You're not going to have a nervous breakdown on our premises, are you?"

Not wishing to risk a repeat of this on a family holiday, we've agreed to plan ahead. I'm not experienced in any of this, but we're ruling out hotels. Either we'd have to leave daughter alone in the room while we got our meal. Or sit there in silence and darkness from 7pm.

The obvious solution would be self-catering. But that would mean booking a place for a week or fortnight, and then we'd be stuck. I've a yen for adventure, and would love some of the old spontaneity.

So we're investigating tents. I discovered on Saturday tent brands are named after birds. Buzzard, Hawk, Shrike. It speaks of freedom. Prairie, Roadrunner, Vista, Oregon, Halo, Aurora. Challenge and adventure. In my imagination, I'm there. But our daughter is already ahead of us. Her Pop-Up Activity Tent arrived home yesterday.

Posted 03 June 2007 20:19 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

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Toys give children "no long-term benefit", finds report

New research says toys and books have no significant future associations with children's development. According to the Institute of Education, reported by BBC Online, the most important factor is parents playing and talking with their children.

"Toys and books have their place and do help children develop but what is important is having the parents interact with the child," says the Institute's Dr Leslie Gutman.

"To have parents read to their children is much more important than having a hundred books," says the report.

Children whose parents took them out grew up with better social skills, said the report.

I wish I'd known this a year ago, before I accumulated sacks of unwanted toys.

I bought them partly because I didn't want people to think I was a tightwad who wouldn't spend on her child.

The toy marketing made me think K would suffer impaired development if I didn't.

After all, not having the musical mobile that plays Bach, complete with cows circling in mid-air above, might have hindered her hand-eye co-ordination and slowed her speech development.

Parents might have more spare space in their cupboards if Dr Gutman's research gets a good airing. Charity shops would probably come off worse, though.

Posted 03 May 2007 21:24 | Number of comments: 3 | Comments

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