Advice for Remy, Day 69. Take pleasure in the little things that make you happy, no matter how weird people might think you are for it. Your toybox in the living room is a treasure trove of exciting things - certainly things which are exciting to a 10 month old (and a certain 41 year old also). Yesterday, I got a selection of these out for you to play with on the floor, until the living room looked like the aftermath of a particularly rowdy children’s birthday party. Before too long your hide and squeak eggs were liberated from their carton and strewn across the room, as if an angry chef just couldn’t get his omelette right and had lost the plot. A building site was created from loose bits of Duplo, added to every time I tried to create a building as you smashed it to the ground. Your musical walker did a sterling job, despite batteries which are clearly on their way out, evidenced by it playing the same few words of the same irritatingly catchy songs on repeat in a 90s techno style (featuring such catchy tunes as “my phone is ring ring ringing, it’s my friend who’s calling” and “I’m the puppy in this house, waiting for my best friend” - absolute bangers the lot of them). But, after just a few minutes, and surrounded by a selection of fine toys, what were you playing with? Your blocks? Your springy dinosaur? Your balloon? No. You were almost beside yourself with pleasure pushing the Duplo box around like a little bulldozer. But, if that’s what makes you happy then who am I to question. The world would be a better and happier place if people didn’t feel so self-conscious about doing the things which make them happy, for fear of what others may think. So you keep playing with your box and not the toys if it makes you happy, and long may it continue.
