Around bathtime I tend to put the radio on, tuned to Radio 4. I like to get the kids in the bath before The Archers theme tune comes on at around 7.02pm. That way I know they've had about a quarter of an hour by the time the music plays at its conclusion. It's all part of the bedtime ritual and Oliver knows this is the signal to get out (which of course prompts him to lie down for an extra "swim").
So it's a measure of the military precicion with which we run our operation that this picture, taken at precisely 7.02pm, shows Oliver fully dressed on his way to the messy room eating an apple as Lucy decides that now would be a good time to move her favourite chair from the living room to the kitchen.
Lucy is really walking much more now. As of the last couple of days she has started to walk much more often than she crawls. She is a real toddler and so cute.
Yesterday when I got home Oliver ran over to me and gave me a hug as he often does. Then from behind him I heard a shriek and over came Lucy who I picked up and hugged too. When Oliver tried to get another hug she smacked him in the face. Unfortunately this is one of Lucy's traits: she hits us! Often it is just to tell me to put her down now please. Fortunately I have started to recognise her sound - semi words - for "get down". I find it surprising that she is making recognisable sounds but she really is. "Bobo" is water, for example.
But she also does some "baby sign". The sign for milk is very clear and she also asks for food.
Until tonight I would have said she is hardly ever throwing up in the evenings any more. She used to do it a lot, apparently gulping down her milk too fast. But tonight it happened for the first time in a while. In fact she threw up after we'd put her to bed which is worse really as we weren't prepared and only knew because she cried and we went in to her. It night have been down to the ice cream she ate at dinner. That's another area of uncertainty. She is still on lactose-free milk powder, but we are introducing more dairy into her diet to see how she gets on.
She still puts up a fight when you try to change her and can scream like a mad thing over small inconveniences, but she is absolutely adorable and a very demonstrative, loving little girl. She comes into our bed in the morning and will lie there cuddling up to us. Or give us hugs and say "aaahhhhh" like her "Po" Teletubby toy.
Oh and she likes putting things in her hair and on her head, sometimes socks, sometimes like this evening pieces of choclate cake. Fortunately she also likes a good bath.
This morning Oliver got up and decided that he wanted to dress up in Mummy's "Tiger" shirt which lives in his dressing up box. Once I had put it on him he announced that he wasn't Oliver he was Tiger.
He then insisted on keeping it on, over his regular shirt, even when he went to nursery. He looked a bit like Demis Roussos circa 1976. He wore it there all morning and was still wearing it when Hayley picked him up at lunchtime. In fact, he still had it on when I went to meet my family at Room 311 around 5.30pm.
But he was such a good little chap this evening that when he asked if he could wear it in bed I said yes. So he is now asleep in his tiger shirt as his pyjama top.
Not sure what I'll do if he wants it on again tomorrow. He could end up like those people who always wear the same coat, you know the kind, usually an Afghan jacket smelling of scented oils and looking like it first saw light of day around Woodstock. Come to think of it, his hair is getting kind of long too...
First our neighbour burned something dodgy in his garden with the resulting acrid fumes lingering for more than a day, then I get up this morning to smell this. It was a few miles away but it smelled very unpleasant and not at all healthy.
Oliver started at his new Nursery today. He was a happy chappy as he headed off for the 1 hour introductory session.
He has been to a playgroup there regularly in the past so the venue was nothing new. He a bit surprised to be going upstairs as he has never been up there before. But once there he was fine. He even took his slightly more apprehensive friend Charlie by the hand and led him off to play saying "Come on Charlie".
He had a fun time and was made the VIP for the day. Afterwards all four of us went to Room 311 where he enjoyed a biscuit and a hot chocolate drink.
Love him or loathe him, there's no denying that Lance Armstrong has been a phenomenon in cycling, an inspiration to many and a powerful force for good in his work for cancer charities through the Lance Armstrong Foundation.
Personally, having read his book "It's Not About The Bike" and watched him win 7 Tour de France races in style, I can't help admiring the guy despite his Texan cockiness.
But what will be more important than where he finishes in next year's race will be how he raises the profile of cancer and how to tackle it across the globe. Success in that arena may yet be his greatest epitaph.
Over breakfast I asked him about this milestone in his life.
We also found time to open a few presents. The Scooby Doo Ghost-Catching van that he had expressed a preference for in the toy shop a few weeks ago, failed to disappoint.
Then it was off to playgroup with Mummy and Lucy where they sang Happy Birthday to him. There was only time to pop home then before we all headed off to Run of the Mill for his party.
About 20 of his friends came plus some of their younger brothers and sisters. After some time playing they all had to line up on the ramp ready to go to our private suite. (Well, a room with a big table and lots of food.)
Oliver declined the special chair at the head of the table and sat half way down the table on the benches with everyone else. A man of the people my son.
He did manage to eat less food and in less time than most of the others and was asking for ice-cream long before everyone else was ready. Then he devoured his ice-cream in time to go and eye up his (monkey) birthday cake.
They brought out the birthday cake with three lit candles and everyone sang happy birthday to him. He then blew out the candles (with a little help from Daddy after two attempts at the last one).
Before we left there was time for us to go and play in the ball-pit with Lucy, who clambered about with the three year olds without a moment's hesitation. By the time we left Oliver was almost asleep on his feet. Both kids were asleep in the car within seconds of us heading out of the car park.
At home in the afternoon we opened some of the many presents friends had bought him. He had a great time. Finally we headed off to Pizza Hut with Manny, Sara, Jack and William for our dinner. It was very quiet in there and Oliver and Jack discovered a great playground in the gap between the pillars and the front windows.
Lucy, meanwhile, climbed up and down some steps for a good 10 minutes, finding it fun with me in attendance to hold her hands on the descents.
Lucy ate a small mountain of spaghetti bolognese, her favourite food at the moment, before sucking all the chocolate off some chocolate raisins.
Oliver on the other hand ate the optimal amount of spag' bol' to make sure there was room for his second portion of ice-cream of the day (this time with Smarties).
We got home a bit late but both kids went fairly readily to bed. Oliver had the added incentive of being allowed to take his (new today) Backyardigans back-pack which he filled with his Scooby Doo characters. Sorted.
I could write lots about how quickly my little boy is growing up. (Last night as Hayley and I sat with him, reading his bedtime story, I told her mopishly "He'll never be two again"!) But let's save that for another day. My beautiful boy has had a fabulous birthday and so did we.
Back in 2005, when Hayley and I were just a couple and Oliver was merely a bump, we took a ride on the Folk Train. Today we took the same ride, but this time with our two children there beside us.
I love the experience of doing things as a family where previously the two kids hadn't been around. It always serves to remind me just how lucky we are to have them.
You might think folk music wouldn't be to their taste, but you'd be wrong. Oliver loves any live music and we were lucky to sit very close to the musicians. Lucy also loved it, wiggling wildly and enjoying the ride.
The journey was from Manchester to Hathersage in the Peak District (though we boarded at Reddish North). In Hathersage everyone decamped to a pub where the band played more songs to accompany our dining and quaffing. Lucy even managed a little jig.
The whole trip was just the best time I could imagine with all of us enjoying ourselves and not even any discontented or over-tired whinging at any point. In fact, on the return journey Lucy fell asleep on Hayley somewhere during "You are my sunshine" and then Oliver fell asleep on me to the tune of "To know him is to love him". Bless.
There is more information about the Folk Train here.
Oliver went to "Cook and Taste" today, a new regular activity in nearby Reddish. (Or at least we hope it will be regular, it was not too well attended today.) It involved two ladies showing under-5s how to make something scrumptious.
Oliver made some rice crispie cakes all by himself. Hayley emphasised emphatically that he did everything single-handedly. He wasn't allowed to melt the chocolate himself but apart from that it was all his own work.
This was followed by making decorated recipe cards. Then finally there was a tasting session. Today it was celery, peppers, cucumber and carrots.
I sampled one of the rice crispie cakes this evening and I can tell you it was delicious, generous with the chocolate. I don't know whether he has a long-term future in baking, but he does make exceedingly good cakes.
Lucy is a very vocal young lady. If one of us puts her down on the floor rather than carry her round she wails like a banshee. She has a high-pitched scream that leaves me in fear for our wine glasses.
A couple of nights ago I put her to bed. Hayley normally puts her to bed while I see to Oliver, but it's nice to swap. Lucy wasn't keen though. She was OK til Hayley came in to say goodnight to her while I gave her her milk. After that Lucy decided Daddy wouldn't do! She screamed at the top of her lungs. The little madam. After a while of batting away the milk bottle I offered her, I asked her "do you want to go to bed Lucy?". She nodded and said "yeh". So I put her into her cot. She still wasn't entirely happy but settled down.
But yesterday Hayley saw a whole other level to her temper. In her anger at being put down on the floor because Mummy couldn't carry her round all day, she head-butted the floor! I'm hoping it was a one-off and she has now learned that Lucy vs Hard-floor ultimately only has one winner.
As we enter a wet British autumn after a wet British summer, my mind sometimes starts to turn to sunnier climes and dreams of raising our children away from headlines of stabbings and a life of scraping money together to pay for a mammoth mortgage on a modest home. I'm sure we won't do it, but some days it seems irresistible.
I didn't help when a former colleague now living in Australia recently sent me photos of himself surfing in the Australian winter. (That's winter, not summer.) We also have friends in New Zealand who send pictures of the expanse of green in which their children play. Compares favourably to the postage stamp we have in our back garden.
But perhaps it isn't meant to be. Yesterday I was given a sign! While I was at work contemplating the fabulous mountain biking in New Zealand over my lunch, Hayley was at home giving Oliver some kiwi only to find he came out in an allergic reaction. He complained of his mouth hurting and then his face started to swell up. She had to give him piriton but even by the time I came home in the evening his left eye was partially closed, though he was happy enough by then. We can't be 100% sure it was the kiwi but it seems to have been the culprit.
This will come as some consolation the next time I am making the umpteenth trip up the stairs because I don't have a nappy or wet wipes or the requested toy for one of my children.
To be honest I can't say that I think I look much like Hayley's Dad.
Then again, it's amazing how people see people differently. We have friends who swear blind that Lucy looks just like Hayley, while others think she looks just like me.
It doesn't put a number on the increased chance of experiencing this condition for children born of fathers in my age range, it only says: "The children of men 55 years and older were 1.37 times more likely to go on to be diagnosed with bipolar disorder than those of men aged 20 to 24." Given the likelihood in general is about 1%, this still seems quite a low risk to me.
And is being bipolar a "disorder" anyway? I think I'll leave that one alone.
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