Yesterday’s corner time: 7 Minutes.
Today I helped Mum complete my school questionnaire, the purpose of which is to provide my teacher some valuable insight into my personality in order to help me settle into my new class.
I couldn’t help but notice that Mum tended to ignore my initial answers, preferring instead to coax me towards more acceptable responses.
For example:
Q. Are you looking forward to starting school?
Matthew: No.
Mum: Yes, very excited.
Q. What are you looking forward to most?
Matthew: Lunch.
Mum: Learning lots of new things.
Q. What’s your favourite toy?
Matthew: My stick with the red bit on the end.
Mum: My Bicycle.
Q. What makes you happy?
Matthew: Running around and fighting.
Mum: Riding my bicycle.
Q. What makes you sad?
Matthew: Being told off for running around and fighting.
Mum: Not being able to ride my bicycle.
My psychological profile will probably suggest that I’m female and in my early thirties.
I might be in for a bumpy ride.
Matthew.
Related Posts: Rumours
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Puppy
Yesterday’s corner time: 3 Minutes.
I really would like a puppy.
Mum and Dad say they have enough on their plates looking after me and Becca. Anyone or thing more and they’ll be outnumbered.
Apparently, they’d rather end it all now than let that happen. I’m not quite sure what they mean.
Anyway, I keep nagging for a dog but so far, they are refusing to budge.
In the meantime, I’m making do with Becca, my sister. She has many natural qualities also inherent in our canine chums.
For example, she’ll fetch sticks, she urinates everywhere and if I’m not mistaken, she has fleas.
However, the scratching may have been due to the allergic reaction caused by the new collar that I'd given her. Dad’s friend, who happens to be a Vet, has advised that she leaves it off for a few days.
He also prescribed some flea treatment, just in case, and recommended charcoal biscuits for her breath. He was pleased with her coat and said she had a nice wet nose.
I’ve enrolled Becca at dog training classes next week and hopefully, this will instil some much needed discipline.
Matthew.
Related Posts: Potty
I really would like a puppy.
Mum and Dad say they have enough on their plates looking after me and Becca. Anyone or thing more and they’ll be outnumbered.
Apparently, they’d rather end it all now than let that happen. I’m not quite sure what they mean.
Anyway, I keep nagging for a dog but so far, they are refusing to budge.
In the meantime, I’m making do with Becca, my sister. She has many natural qualities also inherent in our canine chums.
For example, she’ll fetch sticks, she urinates everywhere and if I’m not mistaken, she has fleas.
However, the scratching may have been due to the allergic reaction caused by the new collar that I'd given her. Dad’s friend, who happens to be a Vet, has advised that she leaves it off for a few days.
He also prescribed some flea treatment, just in case, and recommended charcoal biscuits for her breath. He was pleased with her coat and said she had a nice wet nose.
I’ve enrolled Becca at dog training classes next week and hopefully, this will instil some much needed discipline.
Matthew.
Related Posts: Potty
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Rumours
Yesterday's corner time: 7 Minutes.
I've heard rumours and they are quite distressing.
The word on the playground is that I'm going to have to start going to big school in a few weeks.
Initially, I scoffed at such a ridiculous suggestion but now I'm starting to worry.
Becca has had a definite spring in her step recently and my intelligence has been partially substantiated by a conversation that I overheard between my parents.
Dad was telling Mum how she won't know what's hit her when she has to take me to school every day.
Every day?
School?
School, every day?
If this turns out to be true, it'll most likely have been me that's hit her and she'll know it.
Matthew.
I've heard rumours and they are quite distressing.
The word on the playground is that I'm going to have to start going to big school in a few weeks.
Initially, I scoffed at such a ridiculous suggestion but now I'm starting to worry.
Becca has had a definite spring in her step recently and my intelligence has been partially substantiated by a conversation that I overheard between my parents.
Dad was telling Mum how she won't know what's hit her when she has to take me to school every day.
Every day?
School?
School, every day?
If this turns out to be true, it'll most likely have been me that's hit her and she'll know it.
Matthew.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Wood and Peace
Yesterday’s corner time: 5 Minutes
Sometimes, I believe that I should be sent to strife-torn regions as a peace envoy.
I’d soon whip them into shape and after I’d worn out the whip, I’d employ some of my tried and tested diplomacy.
In my experience, these situations can escalate very quickly and can soon get out of hand.
For example, when Dad threatened to pinch a piece of my toast at breakfast yesterday, I threatened to smear jam all over his face. Dad glanced around and swiftly armed himself with the honey.
We were on the brink of a nasty and sticky conflict. Someone had to step back and take the mature approach.
But before I could say a word, I found myself reeling backwards. A thick, gooey globule was trickling down my left cheek. I’d taken a hit.
I had two options: retaliate or offer the olive branch. I didn’t have an olive branch. I had a couple of sticks from the garden. Would they do? I quickly retrieved them and launched them at Dad.
They connected with the back of his head causing him to sink to his knees in surrender.
It appears that olive branches aren’t essential and that any old lump of wood will do the trick.
Matthew.
Sometimes, I believe that I should be sent to strife-torn regions as a peace envoy.
I’d soon whip them into shape and after I’d worn out the whip, I’d employ some of my tried and tested diplomacy.
In my experience, these situations can escalate very quickly and can soon get out of hand.
For example, when Dad threatened to pinch a piece of my toast at breakfast yesterday, I threatened to smear jam all over his face. Dad glanced around and swiftly armed himself with the honey.
We were on the brink of a nasty and sticky conflict. Someone had to step back and take the mature approach.
But before I could say a word, I found myself reeling backwards. A thick, gooey globule was trickling down my left cheek. I’d taken a hit.
I had two options: retaliate or offer the olive branch. I didn’t have an olive branch. I had a couple of sticks from the garden. Would they do? I quickly retrieved them and launched them at Dad.
They connected with the back of his head causing him to sink to his knees in surrender.
It appears that olive branches aren’t essential and that any old lump of wood will do the trick.
Matthew.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Anaesthesia
Yesterday’s corner time: 8 Minutes.
Becca has her uses.
For example, if I am to have any future as a world-leading surgeon, then I need to find willing subjects upon whom I can refine my techniques and hone my skills.
Naturally, if I can’t locate any willing participants, then the next best thing are unwilling ones.
Luckily for me, Becca always falls into the latter category. So, although she wouldn’t be my first choice, she definitely ranks highly in the list of prerequisites.
Yesterday, after my trusty assistant Max had strapped Becca down, we needed to immediately decide upon the correct levels of anaesthetic to administer before Mum or Dad overheard her protestations.
Quickly considering Becca's age and weight, I calculated that a No.2 Mallet should render her unconscious without any lasting damage.
A scuffle then ensued between my suddenly less than trusty assistant and I over who should dispense the improvised sedative. I was kneeling on Max’s chest, about to deliver him a test dose when Mum intervened.
The pain killing properties of a No.2 Mallet were never confirmed but there may be a further opportunity to explore them next week when I start practising dentistry.
Matthew.
Related Posts: Kill or Cure
Becca has her uses.
For example, if I am to have any future as a world-leading surgeon, then I need to find willing subjects upon whom I can refine my techniques and hone my skills.
Naturally, if I can’t locate any willing participants, then the next best thing are unwilling ones.
Luckily for me, Becca always falls into the latter category. So, although she wouldn’t be my first choice, she definitely ranks highly in the list of prerequisites.
Yesterday, after my trusty assistant Max had strapped Becca down, we needed to immediately decide upon the correct levels of anaesthetic to administer before Mum or Dad overheard her protestations.
Quickly considering Becca's age and weight, I calculated that a No.2 Mallet should render her unconscious without any lasting damage.
A scuffle then ensued between my suddenly less than trusty assistant and I over who should dispense the improvised sedative. I was kneeling on Max’s chest, about to deliver him a test dose when Mum intervened.
The pain killing properties of a No.2 Mallet were never confirmed but there may be a further opportunity to explore them next week when I start practising dentistry.
Matthew.
Related Posts: Kill or Cure
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Potty
Yesterday’s corner time: 6 Minutes.
Becca is currently undergoing potty training. I’m not quite sure why she requires extra tuition as she’s completely mad already.
For example, whilst on holiday, Becca developed an unnatural fear of snails. The merest glimpse would result in hissing and screaming. And that was just the snails. Becca would become virtually catatonic.
I don't know why they instil such terror but I assume that it’s not their pace or their penchant for springing surprise ambushes.
Naturally, I was very sympathetic and decided that aversion therapy was her best bet. However, initial results were not promising.
One morning, I collected all the snails that I could find and lined them up on the patio. As Becca emerged through the back door, I gave the order for them to charge.
Becca froze on the spot. Her stare fixed firmly on the line of advancing molluscs. She could see that she would soon be surrounded.
Three hours later, two of the more athletic specimens were beginning to bear down on their objective. Unfortunately, this turned out to be a shady spot to the left of Becca.
My experiment had failed. Becca’s phobia is now worse than ever. But, on the upside, I now have the garden to myself.
Matthew.
Becca is currently undergoing potty training. I’m not quite sure why she requires extra tuition as she’s completely mad already.
For example, whilst on holiday, Becca developed an unnatural fear of snails. The merest glimpse would result in hissing and screaming. And that was just the snails. Becca would become virtually catatonic.
I don't know why they instil such terror but I assume that it’s not their pace or their penchant for springing surprise ambushes.
Naturally, I was very sympathetic and decided that aversion therapy was her best bet. However, initial results were not promising.
One morning, I collected all the snails that I could find and lined them up on the patio. As Becca emerged through the back door, I gave the order for them to charge.
Becca froze on the spot. Her stare fixed firmly on the line of advancing molluscs. She could see that she would soon be surrounded.
Three hours later, two of the more athletic specimens were beginning to bear down on their objective. Unfortunately, this turned out to be a shady spot to the left of Becca.
My experiment had failed. Becca’s phobia is now worse than ever. But, on the upside, I now have the garden to myself.
Matthew.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Sports Day
Yesterday’s corner time: 4 Minutes.
Yesterday was my first ever sports day at school.
There was no mention of a Dad’s race but it was funny how all the fathers arrived wearing trainers, just in case. Whenever they believed no one was looking, I noticed them having furtive stretches.
I asked my Dad why he was wearing his running shoes but he said it was for no particular reason.
The whole philosophy behind our sports day was to provide an opportunity for everyone to demonstrate what they were capable of achieving. It most definitely wasn’t about winning or losing.
Naturally, this didn’t go down at all well with Dad who had already started taking bets on the day’s events.
Apparently, I was the clear favourite for the Egg and Spoon race and large quantities of money was exchanging hands.
Dad wanted me to take a dive before reaching the finishing line because, having placed all the money on Charlie Dexter, we would then clean up.
I didn’t want to clean up. I don’t like cleaning. Therefore, I stormed over the finishing line in first place. I looked around for the proud faces of my parents only to see Dad disappearing quickly into the distance with all the other Fathers in hot pursuit.
So, this is why he wore his running shoes.
Matthew.
Yesterday was my first ever sports day at school.
There was no mention of a Dad’s race but it was funny how all the fathers arrived wearing trainers, just in case. Whenever they believed no one was looking, I noticed them having furtive stretches.
I asked my Dad why he was wearing his running shoes but he said it was for no particular reason.
The whole philosophy behind our sports day was to provide an opportunity for everyone to demonstrate what they were capable of achieving. It most definitely wasn’t about winning or losing.
Naturally, this didn’t go down at all well with Dad who had already started taking bets on the day’s events.
Apparently, I was the clear favourite for the Egg and Spoon race and large quantities of money was exchanging hands.
Dad wanted me to take a dive before reaching the finishing line because, having placed all the money on Charlie Dexter, we would then clean up.
I didn’t want to clean up. I don’t like cleaning. Therefore, I stormed over the finishing line in first place. I looked around for the proud faces of my parents only to see Dad disappearing quickly into the distance with all the other Fathers in hot pursuit.
So, this is why he wore his running shoes.
Matthew.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Survivor
Yesterday’s corner time: 4 Minutes.
It turns out that the fairer sex is a complicated species and they’re not at all as simple as they look. This is both misleading and quite sneaky.
For example, last weekend, after we had been camping for three days in a location with no toilets or showers, I should have perhaps behaved slightly more sensitively when my mother commented upon how awful she must look.
Dad was quite rude and pretended not to hear the question. Therefore, to show that someone was listening, I voiced my agreement. And then, just in case she hadn't heard me, I confirmed that she really did look quite terrible.
Now, this was apparently where my behaviour deviated from those with a more highly developed sense of self-preservation.
Dad, by now, had mysteriously disappeared altogether. Mum seemed to becoming more and more irate but I was determined to cheer her up.
There and then, I composed a new song entitled "Smelly Mum" and I was just about to repeat the rousing chorus for the third time when a scream of “INCOMING!” rang from the bushes directly behind me. Ah, so that’s where Dad is I thought. Then everything went dark.
Dad’s missile warning had arrived too late but he did eventually volunteer that girls don’t always want you to agree with them. The trick is to know when.
I hope that I live long enough to find out.
Matthew.
It turns out that the fairer sex is a complicated species and they’re not at all as simple as they look. This is both misleading and quite sneaky.
For example, last weekend, after we had been camping for three days in a location with no toilets or showers, I should have perhaps behaved slightly more sensitively when my mother commented upon how awful she must look.
Dad was quite rude and pretended not to hear the question. Therefore, to show that someone was listening, I voiced my agreement. And then, just in case she hadn't heard me, I confirmed that she really did look quite terrible.
Now, this was apparently where my behaviour deviated from those with a more highly developed sense of self-preservation.
Dad, by now, had mysteriously disappeared altogether. Mum seemed to becoming more and more irate but I was determined to cheer her up.
There and then, I composed a new song entitled "Smelly Mum" and I was just about to repeat the rousing chorus for the third time when a scream of “INCOMING!” rang from the bushes directly behind me. Ah, so that’s where Dad is I thought. Then everything went dark.
Dad’s missile warning had arrived too late but he did eventually volunteer that girls don’t always want you to agree with them. The trick is to know when.
I hope that I live long enough to find out.
Matthew.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Devon Can Wait
Yesterday’s corner time: 2 Minutes.
I think I got confused somewhere along the line. It’s easily done.
We had just returned from London and I was recounting the day’s events to Nanna.
We had been to see Big Ben and Trafalgar Square where there was a large statue called Nelson’s Column. This is now offically my favourite statue.
I relayed my understanding of Admiral Nelson’s demise to Nanna, as Dad told it to me.
Apparently, Nelson had been sailing on a big boat when he was shot. This hurt quite a bit and he had to lie down. Shortly afterwards, he went to Devon. Apparently, this is where everyone goes after they are shot.
I was greatly disturbed by this revelation, as I know that we are planning to rent a cottage in Devon for our holidays.
Therefore, it was a great relief when Nanna said that Dad had probably meant Heaven because, as far as I know, we have no plans to vacation there anytime soon. Phew.
Matthew.
I think I got confused somewhere along the line. It’s easily done.
We had just returned from London and I was recounting the day’s events to Nanna.
We had been to see Big Ben and Trafalgar Square where there was a large statue called Nelson’s Column. This is now offically my favourite statue.
I relayed my understanding of Admiral Nelson’s demise to Nanna, as Dad told it to me.
Apparently, Nelson had been sailing on a big boat when he was shot. This hurt quite a bit and he had to lie down. Shortly afterwards, he went to Devon. Apparently, this is where everyone goes after they are shot.
I was greatly disturbed by this revelation, as I know that we are planning to rent a cottage in Devon for our holidays.
Therefore, it was a great relief when Nanna said that Dad had probably meant Heaven because, as far as I know, we have no plans to vacation there anytime soon. Phew.
Matthew.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Trampoline
Yesterday’s corner time: 0 Minutes.
It was my fourth Birthday over the weekend. It won’t be long now before I can drive.
Dad says that I already drive him around the bend but I want to be able to drive him a little bit further than that. Perhaps, over that edge that he’s always referring to.
I thought being four would mean that I would be bigger and stronger but having looked in the mirror, it doesn’t appear that much has changed. This is very disappointing.
However, the disappointment was short lived and soon dissipated on receipt of my main present – a huge trampoline. This made me very happy.
I’m not too sure that our neighbours are as happy, as any semblance of privacy that they may have maintained has now vanished as my head repeatedly bobs above their hedge.
I’ve tried to engage them in polite conversation mid-bob but these tend to be disjointed and breathless affairs as I’m continually disappearing from view, as gravity takes its inevitable toll.
The safety net has yet to arrive which means that if I time it right, I can ping Becca off the side into the bushes.
Matthew.
It was my fourth Birthday over the weekend. It won’t be long now before I can drive.
Dad says that I already drive him around the bend but I want to be able to drive him a little bit further than that. Perhaps, over that edge that he’s always referring to.
I thought being four would mean that I would be bigger and stronger but having looked in the mirror, it doesn’t appear that much has changed. This is very disappointing.
However, the disappointment was short lived and soon dissipated on receipt of my main present – a huge trampoline. This made me very happy.
I’m not too sure that our neighbours are as happy, as any semblance of privacy that they may have maintained has now vanished as my head repeatedly bobs above their hedge.
I’ve tried to engage them in polite conversation mid-bob but these tend to be disjointed and breathless affairs as I’m continually disappearing from view, as gravity takes its inevitable toll.
The safety net has yet to arrive which means that if I time it right, I can ping Becca off the side into the bushes.
Matthew.
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