There are a lot of things about motherhood that haven't exactly come as a surprise. For example, I can't say I'm baffled that I haven't used the pasta machine since Esther was born - home-made ravioli and small children go together like, ummm, whipping up a meringue while passing your driving test. Neither am I astonished that I now have my hair cut approximately once a year, or that I find children's TV incredibly annoying. As far as I'm concerned, those things kind of go with the territory.
However, I have also come across things that I would never, ever have predicted. Initially, there was the fact that it is entirely possible to eat all your meals using just one hand, while your new child sleeps under a tea towel on your other arm. Later, I was surprised to learn that couscous can survive for weeks in the fur behind a dog's ear, when applied there with some degree of precision by a persistent one-year-old.
Lately, though, it's the toucans I wonder about. They are everywhere.
What is it with children and toucans? Why are they such an irresistible pairing that those beaky birds have to pop up in every book we read, and every program we watch? Don't believe me? Keep an eye out for them, and you'll see what I mean. A toucan makes very regular appearances in In the Night Garden, for example, and Dora The Explorer has a friend called Senor Toucan. In Esther's beloved Barbapapa books, Barbazoo has two pets -a dog and a toucan. We have countless books about animals, and they all include toucans - as does our jungle jigsaw puzzle, for that matter.
So, I suppose Esther will grow up to be very familiar with all things toucan. But if I want her to recognize blackbirds, sparrows and robins, that is going to have to come from me (her father, alas, is ornithologically challenged).
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