Not Mothering Sunday

After a few reasonably traumatic weeks (I know there seem to be a lot at the moment, fingers crossed that's the last of them for a while?) we had a really nice day today. We left the confines of Derby! On a bus! We only went the fourteen miles down the A52 to Nottingham, but that's quite an achievement for the boy who doesn't like to leave the house.

Isaac showcases his love of technology using Dan's phone

When Isaac was a baby I was introduced to a children's author by the name of Oliver Jeffers. Isaac and I love his books; the central character in three of them (that I know of) is "the boy" whose name isn't ever revealed. The tales are sweet and moving, the language simple and the images beautifully painted all of which portend a positive story experience for both Isaac and I. I never tire of reading these stories to my boy. So. As you can imagine, I was more than a little excited that a stage production of How To Catch a Star was coming to Nottingham. I held off booking tickets until last week and almost cried when Isaac shouted that he "DID NOT WANT TO GO" several times this morning. But. We made it! 

Isaac thoroughly enjoyed it which is what I was aiming for. Result! For me, I felt that transition to stage lost the simple beauty of Jeffers' style. The two performers were a hugely OTT with fill in noises and there was the inevitable addition to the story that comes with all children's-book-to-other-medium transfers which detracts from the essence of the narrative. However, all the children in the audience loved every minute of it so I'll stop my boring old adult grumbling! 

There are quite a few stage adaptation of children's stories around now I notice. We've been to see Julia Donaldson & Axel Sheffler's The Snail and The Whale fairly recently and less recently Eric Carle's The Very Hungry Caterpillar. I'm so pleased that Isaac enjoys these trips to the theatre, I really am. We have tickets to see another one of Oliver Jeffer's next month - Stuck. We haven't read it yet and I think I might keep it that way. 

We arrived in Nottingham deliberately a couple of hours before the performance in order to eat some lunch which we did at The Malt Cross. If you're in Nottingham and peckish/thirsty, do go; it's SUCH a beautiful building inside. It was formerly the Victoria Music Hall (?) I learned today. Their food is very good, if a little pricey for pub food BUT all profit from the cafe goes to charity! How can you argue with that? The atmosphere is relaxed and they are fine with children (even if the clientele aren't as I overheard on a previous visit). Isaac actually ate some vegetables today! Well. A vegetable. Baby sweetcorn times three! WOOOOOOOH!

It's totally irrelevant and incredibly juvenile which is probably why it made me snigger: I saw a poster advertising some sort of comedy event with what can only be described as a fat Mister Maker.

Mister Maker

Piss Taker

If you've ever had the unfortunate luck to endure an episode of the Cbeebies show then you should be chortling to yourself right about now. The premise of the show is all good (get kids interested in being creative), but the man himself is irritating as hell. I should stop here before I launch into some sort of discussion about children's television shows and their presenters. Because I can and I will. I can see the words in my brain already. Stopping. Now. 

Our return bus journey culminated in gridlocked traffic as we arrived in Derby so we were let off early. Isaac had fallen asleep across our laps and was groggy so I strapped him on my back and waved goodbye to Dan as I boarded the bus home in a non-gridlocked part of town. We were greeted with the usual limitless enthusiasm of the furry one. And then Isaac weed on the sofa. *sigh* Unimpressed doesn't cover it. Anyway (there is a point to all this) I cleaned it up and stopped being mad about it. About an hour later he came over to me, sat on my lap, put his arms around my neck looked me straight in the eye and said "you're the best mummy in the world" and then kissed me on the nose. I'm welling up again now!

The sun wasn't shining and the British drizzle carried on regardless, but I will always remember today and smile. My non-Mothering Sunday Mother's Day. Perfect.