Duckin' Cold!

Why is it mums and dads always think it fun to take us babies to feed the ducks? Especially on a freezing cold Icelandic winter's day? Honestly, you would think they would have more sense than that. But no, not my mum and dad. My mum enjoys being outdoors - so does my dad (but only in the warm sunshine). Dad told me that in any good relationship there is always give and take and so in order to placate mum we set off to the park armed with a few slices of bread and wrapped up as if we were going to the North Pole rather than the Reykjavik Botanical Gardens. 

Pretty soon we were surrounded by a slightly intimidating bunch of quacking geese and ducks. If you ask me, they looked colder than me and kept slipping on the icey path which surely made their bums as chaffed as mine sometimes get! Anyway, mum seemed to be having fun while me and dad just took it all in our stride. I think those ducks are interesting but I wasn't allowed to throw any bread at them so I couldn't really see the sport in this little outing. Boy, was I glad to get back in the warm car. I think I'll wait until I get bigger to go again although me and dad may have to take mum again! 

The Little Mermaid!

Since arriving back home from my Christmas break in Sweden and England I've been feeling a lot better after finally kicking that nasty lung virus into touch. So much so that I have been going to baby swim classes and having a lot of fun, although I think mum seems to enjoy it more than me as you can see from her face! 

I go on Wednesdays and Saturdays and basically get pulled around, dunked, splashed, raised aloft, sang to and dunked again. And then again for good measure. But at least it gets me out of the house and do something other than eat, sleep, chew things, and have my diaper/nappy changed. 

The man teaching us is funny and my mum seems to know all the little kids' songs he sings and makes us join in on. My dad came to watch the other day. He didn't get in with us. He said he was glad he didn't because he couldn't see himself singing those songs along with all the other mummies and daddies. 

My dad is way cooler than my mum! 

Snorri the teacher grabbed my ankles and held me aloft. That was fun. 

I thought he was going to let me dive but I guess he didn't think I would be able to handle that. I was waiting for him to let go but he just lowered me back down, dunked me under the water then moved on to the next kid.

Mum looked a bit worried but I was pretty cool about it. 

I've gone three times now and it has been good but I'm not really convinced about all the big people singing those silly baby songs - makes them look like they're part of some strange cult! 

Happy New Year!

Had a bit of a hangover yesterday so I thought I would wish y'all a very Happy New Year today! My hangover was due to this stubborn, heavy cold I've had for the past couple of weeks - seems it's taking ages to clear up. What's more, mum and dad keep poking this tube thing up my nose to suck out all the congestion and that ain't a lot of fun, I can promise you that. Anyway, I am now in England staying at my grandma and grandad's house in a sleepy little village in the Hampshire countryside. It's really peaceful here, bit too peaceful if you ask me - not a lot of action unless you drive somewhere. Actually, yesterday evening I went to see Martyn and Olwyn and Jake and Adam. My mum played Guitar Hero and was quite a good drummer but she sucked on the guitar. My dad was even worse. I know I could have done better than them if they had given me half a chance. Instead, I just had to sit there with my fingers in  my ears while my mum butchered "Sweet Home Alabama" and dad flailed away with about as much coordination as a one legged man in a butt kicking competition.   

Merry Christmas!

Ho ho ho... I'm in Sweden now visiting amma and afi (my mummy's mum and dad) and my mum's big sister, Linda. A lot of things have happened since I arrived here a week ago. I went to the hospital in the middle of the night on December 22. My mummy and daddy thought it was best to let the doctor have a look at me as I was choking and spluttering from all the phlegm I've got - and I had a high fever. In the hospital they poked a thermometer up my "you know what", put a mask on my face ( so I could breathe better) and sprayed some stuff in my nose as well. The doctor told me I was a good girl and was very observent, she even gave me a sticker with "Bamse", a little bear. After all that fuss at the hospital I could finally fall asleep and boy was that a relief!

Steini, my uncle (mummy's brother) and his family came for a short visit. They drove a long way just to see me... and they loved me. I kinda like them too.

Then there's amma's dog "Depill" - a little furball who's always following me around and wants to give me a kiss all the time. He's really cute, don't know about the kissing though.

Finally, yesterday was Christmas Eve and it's tradition in Scandinavia to open all the gifts on that day. So yesterday I opened a lot of presents. All of them were lovely but to be honest, I liked the wrapping paper the best! And what's more, my daddy tells me I'm going to get even more pesents when we go to England the day after tomorrow.

From me and my family, "Merry Christmas" to you all...

The Promised Land

I left my home in Gardabaer, Iceland

Sweden and England on my mind. 

I straddled that 737, rode him past the Faroes

on across the sky so fine. 

Straight off dad bought me a through plane ticket, 

ridin' across the Atlantic clean.

And I was on that early morning flyer out of Keflavik, 

smoking in to London's scene. 

Somebody help me get out of Iceland.

Just help me get to London Town. 

There are people there that care a little 'bout me.

And they won't let the poor girl down.

Sure as you're born they bought me a silk suit.

Put luggage in my hands.

And I woke up high just west of Scotland 

on a jet to the promised land.

Working on mum's breast a la carte.

Flying over to Britain, great.

When the pilot told us in thirteen minutes

he would set us at the terminal gate.

Swing low chariot, come down easy

taxi to the terminal zone.

Cut your engines, cool your wings

and let me make it to the changing room. 

London give me Reykjavik, Iceland

354 four ten o nine

Tell the folks this is the promised land callin'

and the poor girls on the line.

 

(Hail, hail my man, Chuck Berry!)

 

Porridge

Last week was a week of "firsts:" The first time I tried solid food, the first time I tried drinking mummy's milk from a bottle and the first time my mum left me with a babysitter while she and dad went out to dinner. I didn't do too well on the eating and drinking front but I slept soundly while the babysitter was here. Not sure about that "big people's food." Mummy gave me porridge - which tasted like the piece of cardboard I was chewing on last week before dad realised why I was so quiet! Unfortunately, mum bought a big box of the stuff so I guess it'll be porridge on the menu for a few weeks to come. I'll pretend I don't know how to swallow, that should do the trick. Don't much care for that bottled breast milk either. I much prefer snuggling up to mum's warm and soft breast rather than having that plastic bottle thrust at me. And as far as leaving me with a babysitter goes, they were lucky this time. I was really tired because I had my second inoculation jab at the doctor's that morning. I didn't cry this time. I was engrossed in a good book and didn't even realise that the lady had stuck a needle into my thigh. I only noticed when she put a band aid on it and by then I had missed my chance to holler about it and give her and mum a hard time.

Turkey!

When I say "Turkey" I'm talking about the bird people eat, particularly at Christmas and Thanksgiving, not the guy pictured to the right who is my "uncle Jonsi." On Saturday Jonsi invited me, my mum and dad to his place to celebrate that most American of traditions, Thanksgiving. As you can see, Jonsi dressed for the occasion! The grown-ups ate Turkey and stuffing expertly cooked by Jonsi and sweet potatoes and other vegetables cooked by my mum. My mum ate a lot, as usual while Tryggvi just ate my finger, which made me cry. Dad was holding me a little too close to him. I thought he wanted to kiss my hand but he had other plans. I guess it was his way of showing who is boss.