Can We Praise Our Kids Too Much?

Can We Praise Our Kids Too Much?

From the moment that Sausage was born, I’ve given her praise every day, telling her that she’s the most beautiful, intelligent, amazing, special, funny little girl in the whole universe. I tell her about a hundred times a day that I love her and that she’s my favourite human in the whole world (don’t worry, Husband and I have an understanding that Sausage is favourite to both of us, but he and I come a very close second!).

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What’s in a name?

What's in a name?

When I was pregnant with Sausage, I think I drove my husband a little bit mental with the name-choosing process. I pretty much ruled out any name which already belonged to anyone I had ever known, save for the potential of naming her after a relative. I also ruled out any names which gave her ridiculous initials, rhymed with anything which could be used against her (probably from years of being called Jayne the Pain/Bane/Drain by idiots with limited wit) or belonged to a celebrity who I found objectionable. I also ruled out any names which I felt may be prohibitive to her as an adult. Nobody wants to be treated by a Doctor or represented by a Lawyer with an overly twee name like Precious, surely?!

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Superstition Ain’t the Way!

Superstition - magpies

I’ll set the scene for you: I’m on the phone, I’m looking for a pen. I walk into the room that my husband and I share (he uses his half as office space, I use my half as sewing space and general dumping ground for the things which have no home elsewhere). I stop. I look at his desk. My heart starts thumping.

There is a PAIR OF SHOES on his DESK.

‘So, what?’ you may ask.

This is HORRIFYING to me.

Not for the hygiene issues. Not for the fact that something is out-of-place. It’s the fact that shoes are on the table…and that’s BAD LUCK.

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