To the Parent of the Dirty Nappy

I’m not going to beat around the bush here, I’m just going to go ahead and say it. I know you’re thinking it too. Poo smells. It really does. Dog poo smells, your poo smells and rabbit poo smells. Even the tiniest cutest newborns in the world, do smelly poos.

Not that you mind, because they’re so cute and squishy. The newborns, not the poos.

As you adjust to your new daily routine, baby poo becomes part of it. The smell, the change, the wipe, the flush. It all becomes second nature. You find yourself holding your baby in the air and sniffing their crotch - something you said you’d never do - because you need to know, is it time for the next nappy change?

In my long 16 month career as a mother, I have had many a moment of poo related hilarity. I have knelt in it, stood in it, sat in it. I have got it on my elbow, in my hair and all over my bag. I have laughed at it, wretched at it and, after one particularly sleepless night, cried at it. Once I even bathed with it. This was, of course, unintentional.

I just feel I should mention at this point, that I definitely don’t love poo. It’s just that I can cope with the poo of my child. I feel very differently about the poo of your child.

We went to our usual playgroup today. It’s a nice group in a local Church. There are lots of toys to play with, as well as craft activities to try. Ebony loves it. Today she loved sitting in the red and yellow car. She had fun playing with the playdough. She spent a good amount of time creating a pile of dolls, and then shouting “NO” at any children who dared to touch the dolls.

I usually love the group too. It’s nice to catch up with the other mums, and to see Ebony having fun. But today, the experience was somewhat dampened by the incessant smell of poo. It was as though every single inch of the church had been soaked in sewage. It wasn’t a mild poo either. It was an eye burner.

The smell seemed to be following us. Ebony doesn’t poo in her nappy, and hasn’t for a long time, but I checked a few times today to make sure it wasn’t her. I checked the soles of my shoes. Nothing, phew. No matter where we went, the smell of poo followed. It was in the toy kitchens, on the trampoline and in the dressing up box. Had I caught my reflection in a mirror and noticed a moustache made of poo atop my lip, I really would not have been surprised.

By the end of the group, the fumes had obviously gone to my head. “It smells like shit.” I announced to a mum I don’t really know, as we queued to tidy away the toys. The mum confided in me that she had spent the past fifteen minutes trying to locate the source of the smell, and had narrowed it down to one of two children. But she didn’t know who they were with.

Now, it seemed pretty obvious to me that whichever child it was must be with the adult with a gaping hole in the middle of their face. The adult without a nose. Looking around the room, I soon realised that this adult did not exist.

I can only assume that the grown up in question, is so besotted with their wonderful child, that the smell of their poo is like a gift to be enjoyed. Very well, but must you make an entire church hall endure it? Because, and I don’t mean to be rude here, but it really didn’t smell like roses.

30 Ways to Save £1

With the rising cost of living, and the stagnant nature of today’s wages, we could all do with saving the odd penny or two. Here are thirty of my best money saving tips.

Household spending:

1. Be Mr Banker - life is almost exactly like a game of monopoly, and someone has to be the banker.
2. Have a budget - every penny should be accounted for exactly. Using vague figures just leads to confusion when mystery amounts start disappearing from your bank account.
3. Keep your spends separate - allow yourselves a bit of money each money to spend on whatever you like. Family days out, meeting friends, books and clothes are all nice things to spend money on. Keeping the budget for this separate means you’re not seeing it as taking away from the weekly shop budget.
4. There’s an app for that - keep track of your spending to avoid charges. I use an app on my phone to note down everything I spend, that way I know how much should be left.
   
   

The recipes

Food glorious food

5. Meal plan - I find it really odd that people don’t meal plan. How do you know what to buy if you haven’t done a meal plan? I hate throwing away food, so this is a good way of preventing that unnecessary waste too. We have loads of amazing recipe books, and meal planning is a good way to make sure they actually get used. I love looking through the cookbooks and deciding what to make that week. We must have hundreds of recipes we’ve not tried yet.
6. Plan the shop online - you could do the shop online if you prefer. I use mysupermaket to create an online shopping list. It helps me to stick to budget, and makes the trip to the shop easier.
7. Send the husband shopping - this saves us way more than £1. We must save at least £30 a week simply by me not going shopping. The husband can walk into a supermarket, buy only the things on the list and leave. I have no such skills. There are plenty of unexpected items by the time I get to the bagging area - coconut ice, spicy cashews and amaretto.
8. Buy in bulk - this is a bit of an obvious one. If there’s a good offer on a product you use regularly, stock up.
9. Don’t buy snack packs - buy in bulk and make your own snack packs.
10. Give up coke - not the white stuff. Well, you can if you want, but I’m talking about the carbonated drink. I used to drink a lot of coke. On hot days, on tired days, on headachey days, I’d pop to the shop and buy a can of coke. At my local shop, a can of coke will set you back about 80p. Ten weeks ago I decided to give up coke. I’ve lost a bit of weight, and saved approximately two bazsquillion pounds.
    
    

With one of many charity shop finds

Shopping tips

11. Voucher codes - if you’re shopping online, always search for a voucher code before visiting the checkout.
12. Charity shops - I love charity shopping. I buy all of Ebony’s books from the local charity shops because they’re so much cheaper.
13. Don’t impulse buy - I’m terrible at this. I always want to buy everything in the queue to pay. I think it’s the boredom eating away at my soul.
14. Hay ho - Buy your rabbit hay in bales from a farm, it works out so much cheaper than buying tiny bags from pet shops
15. Whatever you need to purchase, shop around for the best deal.

Lifestyle choices

16. Use washable nappies - this has saved us a ton of money, a load of environmental guilt and oodles of nappy rash.
17. Use washable wipes - these are the ultimate in thrifty parenting. Baby wipes cost a fortune and are a total waste of money. The washable wipes are easy to use, softer on skin, and you are less likely to end up with the dreaded poo finger.
18. Save on petrol - I walk everywhere. Unless it’s raining. I try to avoid using the bus, and my recently acquired driving phobia keeps me well away from the roads, so I walk everywhere. I save quite a lot of money by doing this. Not to mention the road deaths avoided.
19. Fix things instead of replacing them - or get my dad too, he can fix anything.
20. Organise a clothes swap - you’ll get some new clothes without spending a penny, and you’ll rehome your old garments.
21. Sell sell sell - declutter, and sell the things you no longer want.
22. On the cheap - check freecycle and online auction sites for items you need
23. Plan ahead - hungry and bored kids will cost you money. Make sure you have snacks, drinks and FUN with you wherever you go.
24. Party - invite your friends round instead of going out.

Enjoying the outdoors

Take advantage of the weather

25. Have picnics instead of eating out - me and Ebony are ladies who lunch. On sunny days, we like to picnic instead. It’s cheaper and much more fun.
26. Line time - if it’s not raining, line dry your clothes instead of using the tumble drier.
27. Weather or not - take advantage of the rare beautiful weather and spend time outdoors. On sunny days, I take my daughter to the park or for a walk along the canal. It’s nice to play outside so she can run about. So much nicer - and cheaper - than a stuffy soft play centre.
28. Spend family days in the great outdoors - going for walks and enjoying nature are great, fun things you can do as a family.

29. Turn your thermostat down 1 degree - you’ll hardly notice it but it will save you money on your energy bills.
30. Hello summer - turn your heating off as soon as the weather improves.

So there you go, 30 ways to save £1. This post was written as part of the 30 ways competition hosted by MoneySupermarket.

Do you have any saving tips to share?

Why I'm Feeling Apprehensive About Baba Boogie Fitness

This is a bit of an awkward post, mostly because I actually really like Sarah Jane Honeywell. I’ve never seen any of the kids shows she does, but I know she’s vegan and I like the idea that there is a vegan on children’s tv. I like to imagine she is a role model for vegan kids. And I’m all for that.

I follow her on Twitter in fact, so I can keep updated with the campaigning work she does to promote veganism. Isn’t that great, a childhood role model who isn’t afraid to stand up and make a difference? What a lovely thing. I hope she is playing a part in inspiring a generation of youngsters willing to stand up and scream “Fuck you David Cameron!” or whatever it is people scream in the future.

But sadly, this is not a post about how totes-amazeballs Sarah Jane Honeywell is. Nor is it a post about how much I hate David Cameron. It’s a post about how apprehensive I feel about Sarah’s latest venture.

As I was trawling through my twitter feed today, I noticed a post by Sarah talking about @Bababoogiefit - the first mum and baby fitness DVD.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing offensive about a little postnatal exercise. In fact, anything that can tame that saggy, doughy, overflowing monstrosity us mums call a midriff sounds good to me. It can be hard to get motivated post-pregnancy, it’s just so lovely to stay anchored under a sleeping baby and work through a few box sets. But exercise is important. It is a proven stress reliever and mood raiser, and can help you out of any rut. So, as I say, I’m all for a bit of exercise.

And the idea of exercising with your baby? I love that even more. How great that you don’t have to ditch the baby at the creche, or abandon them with a family member, for you to work out. Life with a baby can be pretty tough. Even if you do actually manage to get up on time for an exercise class, successfully book a place at the creche, get both yourself and the baby dressed on time, and head to the front door, you’re still probably not going to make it. In that scenario, it is pretty much guaranteed that, just as you look smugly at your be-sweatbanded self in the mirror as you reach for the front door, you will hear a ear-splitting fart noise, only to discover your entire gym outfit (and the only one that fits you these days,) is covered in a thick, yellow gloop that smells suspiciously of baby poo. Or, in the unlikely event that you make it to the car, the baby will fall instantly asleep and you’ll sit outside the gym for two hours waiting for her to wake up because you are too scared to try and move her. Or, in the even less likely event that you actually make it into the gym on time with your baby, she’ll decide she’s starving and you’ll spend the entire exercise class sat on the subs bench with you breast on display.

Even just thinking about going to the gym with a baby has made me exhausted. So that’s why I can see the importance of having a DVD. No leaving the house, no lycra-clad gym bunnies ogling at your baps, and, best of all, no-one will know if you are covered in baby poo.

Back to Sarah for a second. Her tweet linked to a Twitter account set up to promote the new DVD. There isn’t much information up there at the moment. There isn’t a website link or a description of the DVD. All there is infact, is a photo.

The photo shows Sarah Jane Honeywell and two other women (in slightly terrifying one colour gym outfits) wearing babies in carriers. Normally, the sight of someone carrying a baby fills me with excitement. I often have to physically fight the desire to try and high-five them. But no, these keep fit women are not wearing the type of carriers that fill me with excitement at having found a like minded parent. No, they are wearing the WRONG type of carriers.

Now, if this has all started to sound a bit finicky, bear with me. There is a valuable lesson to be learnt here. Babywearing is great, but you have to wearing your baby in the right kind of carrier. The right type of carrier supports the baby from knee to knee. This means she is supported by her bottom in the carrier. She is supported from thigh to knee, so there is minimal pressure on the thigh joint. The right type of carrier allows the baby’s spine to stay in the natural curved position.

The wrong type of carrier, also known as a “crotch-dangler”, supports the baby by the crotch. This puts more pressure on the thigh joint and can actually lead to hip dysplasia. Crotch-danglers also force the baby’s back into an unnatural straight position, this is not good for the developing spine. If you’re interested, you can read more information here.

Some of the babies on the promotional image are even being worn outward facing. Wearing your baby facing outwards, pushes her spine an incorrect position. The baby is unable to cling to your body, and doesn’t have the muscle control or strength to hold herself in the right position. Her pelvis will tilt forward and be forced to carry her own weight, as well as absorbing the force of each step you take. This isn’t good for baby’s spine, but it also won’t be good for yours. Carrying a baby in a forward-facing position puts unnatural stress on your body due to the uneven weight distribution.

There is no website, and no further information about @bababoogiefit available online yet. This entire post spawned from the promotional photo on the Twitter account. Perhaps it will turn out that they tell you all of this information in the DVD, and wear the right type of baby carriers throughout the exercise. Maybe they only put the crotch-danglers on for “a laugh” in their lunchbreak, because the thought of anyone making an exercise DVD and using such ill-suited carriers was so hilarious.

I can hope anyway.

p.s. Sorry Sarah, please don’t take it personally. I still think you’re a great vegan role model for the kids.

Ms Cupcake: The Naughtiest Vegan Cakes in Town Review

For those of you in London, Ms Cupcake’s delicious eats are probably a treat on a rainy day. For those of us in the North, they are a long anticipated taste of heaven that can only be enjoyed once in a blue moon. I had heard of Ms Cupcake, long before I was able to try her cupcakes for myself.

One windy day, on a work related visit to London, I finally got to visit her shop. I was pregnant, and upon reaching the shop I had to leave immediately. Because I needed a wee. After a brief visit to the local cinema, I was able to return to the shop. It was the end of the day, but the counter was still filled with amazing looking cupcakes in a variety of flavours. I really wanted a ferrero rocher cupcake because whispers of their totes-amazeballs-ness had reached the North. Pre-wee there were some ferrero rocher cupcakes available, but post-wee they had gone. My pregnant waddle must have slowed me down. The sight of a distraught hormonal woman obviously pulled on the buttercream covered heart strings of the gifted baker, because she sneakily took one out of hiding for me. I sat outside the shop and tried not to wet myself with excitement. Did I mention I was pregnant?

At this point I had ridiculously high expectations of how the cupcake would taste. I expected it to taste like a bejeweled rainbow flavoured unicorn angel covered with sprinkles. I was not disappointed.

Living in the North has its advantages; cheap houses, awesome accents and really good curry sauce. But there are also some pretty major disadvantages; no Ms Cupcakes. I haven’t been to London since having Ebony. I do have a very lovely friend who brings me occasional boxes of Ms Cupcakes when she visits, but it’s safe to say the wonderful cakes are a rarity in my belly.

Thankfully though, word had reached London about the total misery and general bleakness brought on by a lack of Ms Cupcake, and a solution was in the making. As of today, you can buy a recipe book filled with Ms Cupcake recipes. Ms Cupcake: The Naughtiest Vegan Cakes in Town is as amazing as the cakes themselves.

I was lucky enough to get my hands on a pre-release copy at the Northern Vegan Festival last month. The first recipe I tried was the Bakewell Tart Cupcakes. They were amazing. Obviously they looked shit, because I can’t pipe to save my life, but they tasted so perfect. The book is filled with invaluable baking tips and advice that will completely revolutionise the way you bake. I had no idea about the way vegan baking really works until I read this book. For example, did you know you could have too much bicarbonate of soda in a vegan recipe and that’s what makes the cakes sink?

Unlike its US counterparts, Ms Cupcake’s recipe book uses metric as well as cup measurements. According to Ms Cupcake , if you’re having trouble baking with cups, it could be because you’re doing it wrong. If you’re measuring flour, you have to pour the flour into the cup - not scoop because that compacts the flour and you end up with the wrong amount. Mind blowing, right?

I’ve also made the mint chocolate cupcakes, the victoria sponge cake and the basic vanilla cupcake. Yes, in a month. Yes, I’ve put half a stone on. Let’s not talk about it.

The book itself is hardback, glossy and filled with gorgeous full-colour photos. If you’ve been to Ms Cupcake’s Brixton shop, then this book is exactly what you’d expect. It’s stylish and full of personality. Mine is already covered in smears of icing sugar and buttercream.

Speaking of buttercream... I cannot express in words how amazing the buttercream recipes are. Completely indulgent and dangerously delicious. Her methods are easy yet effective. Every cake I’ve made has turned out light, moist and spongy. Whatever problems you’re having with vegan baking, be it sunk tops, greasy bottoms or denseness, this recipe book will put an end to them.

But it will also make you dead fat.

Fuck it, buy it anyway. 

Ms Cupcake: The Naughtiest Vegan Cakes in Town

Another Year Older

It was my birthday on Saturday. I am now 27. I feel like I should be panicking about getting older, and taking that single step closer to death. But, as I sit here while my one year old naps, I think perhaps 27 still feels young. Maybe if I did not have the one year old napping, then I might drunkenly ponder where my life was going. Perhaps I would worry about my rotting eggs, like a character on a bad US sit com. Or maybe I would be so drunk that I wouldn’t have time to worry about anything apart from how to clean vomit off a white wall.

Two years ago, pre-Ebony, I had a party to celebrate my twenty fifth birthday. Ah, so young. It was a house warming too. There were daiquiris, and amarettos, and prosecco. I think. I don’t remember. It was a very drunken night. And a very hungover next morning. Shortly after, I found out I was expecting. Cue weeks of terrifying panic that the poor fetus inside me would be swimming in alcohol, and would become the first in-utero member of the AA. Luckily, the twelve week scan showed a healthy baby, with no floating Carlsberg cans in sight.

That birthday party, was the last time I had a night of debauchery. After nine long sober months of pregnancy, it would be fair to say I drank a little too much at times during 2012, but it was nothing like my pre-Ebony life. I haven’t been on a night out for years, because I can’t bring myself to miss a bedtime. I've tucked Ebony in every night so far.

I gave up a much-loved career to stay close to Ebony, so I’m not about to ditch her for a night a drunken foolery. Although I’m sure it would be very fun, if I was able to stop worrying about Ebony for long enough. It’s always me who puts Ebony to bed, and I hate the thought of her wondering where I was. She’s not yet old enough to understand the concept of “back tomorrow” or “wandering round Manchester screeching drunkenly”. I hope that at some point within the next few months, she will be at a stage where she understands. And then I shall leave her, and go out and have fun. In an embarrassing drunk-mum way. But until them, I am happy staying home with Ebony, because I feel lucky we’ve been able to get to this stage without being separated for long.

So, instead of going out for a much-needed night of drunken fun with my friends this weekend, we celebrated with a quiet, family weekend away. It was really lovely to get away and relax. We didn’t have electricity so couldn’t charge up our phones, and didn’t have much signal or internet access anyway. It was nice to get away from my emails and stop worrying about my to do list. It was also nice that the husband couldn’t check his work emails or spend the weekend worrying about work.

We went to Hebden Bridge, a place I have fond childhood memories of. I love Hebden Bridge. It’s such a

lovely, quirky place. Everywhere I looked there were vegan options on menus, babywearers and the occasional hard drug user. Ok, so it’s a little rough around the edges, but it’s still the place I hope to grow old someday. We borrowed my parents’ motorhome and spent the weekend living in a farmer’s field. Ebony loved having space to run around in, and seemed to enjoy spending so much time outdoors.

Some photos of the weekend:

Self Defence Against Toddlers

I think I've finally found the idea that's going to make me a millionaire. The dragons will fight over me, like starved pack dogs, desperate to grab themselves a morsel of my billion pound idea. I will undoubtedly leave the den with full pockets.

The idea struck me at the same time as my toddler. There we were, lovingly playing together on the bed, when all of a sudden I got smacked in the face. With a head. I can hear what you're thinking, "Ah, a teeny toddler head, that can't really hurt." Well, let me correct you. Although the rest of her is quite definitely toddler sized, her head is not. She has tiny beautiful toes, and a gorgeous little belly button. Despite being almost 16 months old, she is still wearing 9-12 month clothes because of her small frame. Yet atop her delicate toddler-sized shoulders, sits the head of a fully grown adult.

In all seriousness, I don't know how she carries the weight of it all day. Her head alone must make up half of her overall weight. I hope this doesn't sound like I'm being mean. Remember, she did hit me with it. And anyway, I birthed that head, so I know it's big.

I was lying on the bed with Ebony, minding my own business. Without warning, Ebony's head came crashing down on me like a cartoon anvil, hitting me right in the mouth. I was immediately flattened by the sheer force of the impact, and had to peel my head off the bed to survey the damage. Let me just say, hers is not a soft, padded head covered in soft curls of silky hair. Quite the opposite. This is a head as bald and hard as a bowling ball. Perhaps cricket ball is a better analogy, because she bounced right back up. I can only assume that her oversized skull is made from adamantium, because she didn’t even seem to notice that her colossal bonce had just made contact with my teeth. 

The fat lip

And herein lies the problem. While we, the parents, roll around in a disgusting mixture of agony, self pity and under-the-breath-swearing, the toddler is planning their next move. It could be anything: a toe to the eyeball, a foot to the groin, or an entire toddler to the jugular. Toddlers, with their complete disregard of safety, compassion and the rules that hold society in place, have the upper hand. We parents are too busy thinking, “It’s not ok to slap them back.” to notice that we are about to have a heavy wooden ball thrown on our toes. Not “dropped”, as the offender will immediately claim. 

We breathe deeply, and respond with understanding and unconditional love. In our calmest, most caring voice we explain: “We don’t stamp on Mummy’s face, because it hurts and makes her sad,” while a crayon gets jammed into our ear. With shaking hands and frazzled nerves, we try to explain that it’s not very nice to shove crayons into ears. The toddler laughs at our upset, throwing their toddler (or, in some cases, very large adult) head backwards at full force and it hits us square in the eye socket.

Enough is enough.

We need to stop responding to toddler violence with reactionary measures. We need to see it coming, and stop it before someone (the parents) gets hurt. We need to get on the offensive. And so, for the mother nursing her newly blackened eye, and to the man cupping his painfully swollen testicles, I am inventing a short course in self defence against toddlers. These lessons will specialise in weapon recognition and removal, redirection, distraction and, most importantly, self preservation. No longer will parents cower in fear at the indistinguishable gunk-covered hands of their toddlers.

The exact details of the course are yet to be devised, but consider this a patent. I shall soon be a very rich woman, safeguarding parents across the country.

Based on your own personal experiences, what toddler situations would you like to be covered in the course?

No More Electronic Toys

A few weeks ago, I introduced a ban on all electronic toys. I got a cardboard box, and worked my way round the house gathering up all of the battery powered toys. We had a lot of them. They are now tucked away, out of Ebony’s reach, until further notice.

Any parent reading this will assume it was the drone-like lifeless sing song electronic sounds that drove me to this stage. Admittedly, I do hate all electronic toys with a burning passion, but it was not the desire to protect my own mental health that caused this change. It was the need to protect Ebony.

We had a variety of electronic toys. Some with flashing lights, others with moving parts, but all noisy. Oh the noise. The premise of near all of the toys was this: press button, be rewarded with short music, press button again. Repeat indefinitely until (delete as appropriate) the batteries die/Mummy throws the toy against the wall.

The toys

Watching Ebony plays with the toys was a little creepy. She would press the button repeatedly, almost in a trance like state, in order to hear the bittersweet reward of a ten second burst of a joyless tune. The behaviour was almost obsessive, and the electronic toys were her favourite.

Around the time of her first birthday, Ebony went through a stage of gathering her favourite belongings, and herself, into a box. On every occasion, the electronic toys were the first in. The bilingual shape toy, the demo keyboard and the shrill ladybird would make it to the final cut every time. They were her favourites.

As Ebony’s understanding of the world developed, so did her play. Imagination became a key part in her games. She would make her soft toys dance, kiss and go to sleep. Her animals would help her eat her snacks. Watching her play these games was eyeopening. It was wonderful to see her looking after her toys, the way we look after her. Gently kissing them and tucking them in. But then an electronic toy would catch her eye again, and she would go and play with that instead. Pressing the button, hearing the music, and pressing the button again.

There was no interaction, no exploration. She had to press the right button to hear the music, and so that is what she did. I decided that this couldn’t be healthy. I read that:

• Mothers and toddlers interact more when playing with non-electronic toys. This was definitely true in our house. The only involvement I had when Ebony played with electronic toys, was glaring angrily and swearing under my breath.
• Toys should be 90 per cent child, and only 10 per cent toy. With the electronic toys, all Ebony can do is press the correct button. Anything else, and the toy won’t work. With her soft toys, she can do whatever she likes. She can use her imagination to fill in the blanks.
• Electronic toys play for your child, and so your child may find wooden blocks or other traditional toys boring in comparison. Simply because they do not have the imagination or motivation to create the play themselves.
• Toddlers use play to learn about social interaction. By playing with you, or with other children, they learn how to interact with other people. Building blocks, getting dolls to give kisses to people, and playing peekaboo are all good ways of doing this. Repeatedly pressing a button to see a flashing light, is not. Little is learnt from these toys, other than how to work that particular toy.
• Parental attachment is affected by the quality of play. Using electronic toys as babysitters, can have a negative impact on your relationship. High quality, interactive play between parent and child is more likely to form part of a strong parent-child bond.

Using her imagination

Since confining all of the electronic toys to the dark corner of the closet, I have noticed that:

• Ebony has taken a greater interest in her more traditional toys. For example, she has rediscovered her musical instruments.
• She spends more time enjoying books. She will select a book from the shelf, and bring it over to me to read. I must spend an hour of every day with her snuggled up in my lap as I read Tabby McTat.
• She is more interested in what I am doing. If I try to sneak off into the kitchen to start cooking or make a cup of tea, instead of staying glued to the spot pressing buttons, she will now follow me. Watching me prepare dinner, or sort out the washing, has a higher educational value than pressing a button.
• She is becoming more creative with her play. Her animals are taking on a whole host of new skills and activities each week. She is finding new ways of playing with her toys together. And she is including more objects in her play. She is exploring her world through play, just as she should be.

Now, when I watch her play, I feel proud of my inquisitive, thoughtful explorer. I am no longer worried that her toys may be turning her into a zombie.