No, I know it’s not Halloween.

In our household “boooo” is the most commonly used word at the moment. A few months ago our little bundle of compressed energy began to say his first words. My husband, aka Vegan-Dad, is very interested in technology and we have Google home which is connected to our living room and kitchen lights. The living room lights can also change colour, if you ask Google to do it. So the entire life of Iggson he has heard us say “Okay Google, lights on”. “Lights off”. “Lights normal”. “Lights red”. “Lights blue”.


Our dramatic, awesome, mood-setting light

It would only be logical that Iggson’s very first word was just this: “Lights”. Or as he pronounces it, “ay-t-sssss”. The second word was booo [=Blue]. No wonder considering that’s the only colour he wants the light to be.


That’s one blue baby

After that he learnt “mamma” and “dadda” although he still doesn’t know who is who, including any random blond woman or dark man with glasses. Now he can also say “goog-ge”, of course. He barks when he sees a dog. And sheep. And roosters. He growls when he sees a tiger. He howls when he sees a grey wolf. And when he sees a cat. And any grey animal on four legs. Except elephants. He knows they wave their trunks (he demonstrates it by wildly raise his arm up and down). They go “prrrrrroooo”. Then there are cows. They go “booooo!”. So does very big dogs according to Iggson. Yesterday I had a job interview and had bought a new black and white top solely for this occasion, so it made sense to point at me and loudly shout “BOOOOO! BOOOOOO!” Dude, I know I’m overweight but come on…


In my new top apparantly I resemble a cow enough to get Boooed at

When he’s sad or pissed off because he doesn’t get to pull items off the shelves in the store where we shop, he pouts his lower lip and say booo. Over and over and over… If you ever see it – don’t fall for it. It’s just a trick.


Yes, he can do “The Lip” on demand. Hope that’s how he’ll tackle his teens as well.

The other day I went shopping with Iggson and he saw a Winnie the poo outfit. He refused to let it go. He was sitting inside the actual clothing wrack, covered by Winnie the Pooh – outfits shouting “boooo! booooo! booooo!”, lost like Cristopher Robin in The 100 acres wood if it would have been made out of yellow velvet trunks. I couldn’t get him out of there unless I let him take one outfit with him. So I did. I turned into a pussy-parent and surrendered to his pleas. Now he wants to change into his velvet Pooh outfit as soon as we get back home. I know this because baby Iggson loudly calls it “booooo!” whilst pointing towards his closet.


The first day he had it on all day and most of that day he watched himself in the mirror. Vain wee bairn.

My husband and I sleep in a bed in an alcove, with Iggson’s bed next to ours. We have a curtain in front of our bed to get a tiny bit of privacy and every morning we’ve always woken up by Iggson sitting in his bed speaking Swahili to himself in his crib. These days he’s tall enough to reach the curtain, meaning we now wake up at 6.30 am every morning by a chubby little hand pulling the curtain aside and saying “BOO!” every time. Thank’s for that wake up call.


My view every morning at 6.30 am. Lovely view but I wish it was at 9.30 am.

The next paragraph is not for the easy-queasy. Iggson eats with his whole body, mind and hair, so after a big meal where he’s squeezed the last will out of every meatball, spaghetti and avocado on his plate he gets to be hosed down in the shower. Sometimes he gets to sit in the shower and play with the water for a bit. Today as he was playing with Sponge-Pig and Mr. Turtle, I was leaning against the sink talking to Vegan-Dad when Iggson suddenly came walking with the shower hose in his hand spreading water, soaking the bathroom. Excited and happy he pointed at the shower drain saying “booo”. Yep. Next to the drain was a poo. My child had pooed in the shower. He was proud of it too.


Of respect to the easily queesed one I’ve censured the real evidence

“Booo!” while holding his mouth like Donald Trump for a wee bit longer after the word has left his lips is the word of the season. It means blue, it means bo!, it means book, it means poo, it means Winnie the Pooh, it means cow, it means mam wearing black and white. I know he’s getting there, one day he’ll probably talk as much as I do. He is talking to himself a lot in front of the mirror. Not only talking, he’s practicing his angry face and fake laughter too, just like a regular person.

Advice of the day: If you wanna be down with the kids – say booo. Below is a picture of what you should look like when you pratice in front of a mirror.