Despatches from a mother who started late (and is running to catch up)

Singing to the Sun

As any mother or father knows, parenting is a series of milestones (first smile, first day at nursery, first taste of baby rice, first time they say 'no') and one of the more momentous is steeling yourself to leave a new(ish) baby with a babysitter for the first time. Last week I ventured out to the launch party at the Children's Bookshop for Vivian French's new book Singing to the Sun, leaving my mother with a bottle of milk I had "expressed" earlier for the baby and instructions to get both girls to bed at a reasonable time. "Will I get a row [Scottish for 'get into trouble'] if you get home and they've neither of them settled?" she asked me. "Just do your best, Mum," I said, skipping out the door, giddy with freedom and guilt. "The milk's in the fridge. I'll be on the mobile. Call me if you need us to come home early." It's no exaggeration to say almost every minute of the party was a pleasure, possible because Singing to the Sun is a real delight: the fairytale, illustrated by Jackie Morris, tells of a young man growing up in an aristocratic household, devoid of love, who must choose a bride from three princesses, each of whom represent wealth, power and love. So far, so familiar, but the story is bold and subtle enough to depart from the usual format, presenting readers with an unusual twist at the end. I won't spoil it for you by revealing what happens, but I was delighted to stumble on a children's book that gently challenges some of our ideas about courtship and marriage - and chuffed that Vivian French signed a copy for both our girls. All went well, until, speeches over, cake cut, canapes consumed, the mobile went. "They've both woken up," said Granny, almost shouting to make herself heard over the backdrop of wakeful toddler and baby. "They're not settling," she added, in an unnecessary postscript. Back home it was bedlam. Beanie, wan with exhaustion, was jumping up and down in her cot shouting: "Don't want to go to sleep" and singing Ba-Ba Pink (yes, no mistake) Sheep in an apparent (but sadly futile) attempt to soothe her little sister to sleep. Baby was casting what seemed to be pleading looks in my direction, as if imploring me to step in and end the aural torment. Granny fled the scene, leaving reading glasses, Sudoko book and her mobile at our place. "It wasn't like this all the time, you know," she said defiantly, before heading home, as if to pre-empt criticism, though I'd said nothing. "They were fine for a couple of hours. I called you as soon as it got like this." Ah well. Poor Granny.

Posted 08 September 2008 21:31

Granny New baby

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