Autumn audit

For me, September is the perfect time to get to grips with clutter - the back-to-school vibe gets me every year; new pencils, new shoes, renewed good intentions - that kind of thing. I've been incredibly industrious this week, re-organising, sorting and updating all of my children's things. Above is their newly organised dress-up station, and it's just one outcome of what's become known as the autumn audit. It's been a huge task, but I feel I owe it to my children - to get rid of the broken, to reignite interest in the forgotten and to pass on the outgrown. 

I began by walking round the house, armed with a notebook. I wrote down headings to describe every different type of toy, game and play-thing as I came across them. From this list I was able to see the wood from the trees, and I began to assess how well my children's current interests and needs relate to the quantity, quality and accessibility of their play-things. From there, the hard work really began; re-establishing collections and unearthing long forgotten treasures, removing, or making less accessible, the play-things my children have outgrown, and trying to decrease the sheer volume of stuff we've accumulated.

Now, their bedroom looks a little more grown-up, and it contains all the toys and play-things I consider suitable (and safe) for independent and self-sufficient play. And I hope I've made it a cool place to hang out too; to read, and listen to CDs and audio books, as well as playing with toys.

By the way, that beanbag in the photograph above is full of soft toys. My children still play with them *shhhh* but now the animals and teddies double as a great seat. I saw the idea on a Pinterest board - I can't find it now, otherwise I'd give credit to the genius who thought of it.

Downstairs, there are further shelves laden with children's books and a huge games cupboard with board games, card games and equipment for more active games like skipping ropes, beanbags and juggling balls. There's a help yourself shelf with everyday supplies for writing, drawing, colouring, painting, sticking and cutting. Another set of shelves, pictured above, is a showcase for some of their favourite toys, natural play-things like pebbles, shells and drift wood, investigative equipment and kid-friendly things - on display to amuse, use and inspire.

I tidied my toys too, especially the Aladdin's cave that is the cupboard under the stairs. This is where I stash our rainy-day art/craft kits, most drawing/colouring/activity books, specialist and supervision-required art resources, tinkering tools and supplies, fabrics, wool and our sewing box. Non-toys, kid-friendly kitchen equipment and packaging from the recycling box weren't really part of the audit this time. They are well established play-things in our house, of course, but I keep them as part of the general house stuff - that way they remain different to toys, and therefore irresistible.

The children are delighted with their room's new lay-out, and have enjoyed exploring the house, rediscovering their things. They've even been more positive about helping to clear up at the end of the day; a very refreshing and new-term-like attitude - long may it last.

Roald Dahl Day lucky dip

I do love to whip up a bit of themed play every now and again, and today has given me just the excuse I need - it's Roald Dahl Day. At six and seven years old, my two children are firmly in the RD zone -  his stories are bedtime favourites, and my eldest now frequently reads them to himself.

My two RD fans are certainly very keen to participate in the celebrations. Here's what I've got planned for them:

• Dress up as a favourite RD character

• Start making a silver foil ball like Roald Dahl (he made one over several years adding to it every time he ate a chocolate bar) using foil from a lunchtime cereal bar

• Play RD Top Trumps - we have a shop-bought pack of these, but have made our own set in the past. Characters include Matilda, Mr and Mrs Twit, Miss Honey, Miss Trunchball and Boggis, and the categories - out of 100 - include brains, appearance, greed, kindness and cunning

• Make a maze-of-underground-tunnels game telling the story of Fantastic Mr Fox. Both my children love making up board games - see their Christmas ideas here - so I know they'll be keen to try this

• Use tricks to make things move like Matilda. For example we'll practise catching invisible things from the sky in a paper bag, levitating, creating a force-field, making someone's arms rise up without them trying, making a pencil roll without touching it - that kind of thing

• Go on a golden ticket hunt around the house (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory) - I've cut up some gold foil wrapping paper in anticipation of this one

• Make a kite, like Danny (Danny, the Champion of the World). We'll cheat and make one from thin plastic bags and some thread, rather than a shirt

• Solve some number puzzles like Matilda. We'll complete a simple Sudoku or two - I found kid-friendly ones here. And with large numbers chalked in a grid on our paved outside space, I'll call out some 2 and 3 digit numbers for them to 'jump out', and challenge them with some addition and subtraction sums - they'll need to 'jump out' the answers

• Make a revolting concoction (in the kitchen) - like George (George's Marvellous Medicine)

• Bake toad-in-the-hole, like Danny and his dad (Danny, the Champion of the World). I'm not sure whether my children will go for gravy to accompany this dish as in the book, but I'll certainly offer it - along with some baked beans, just to be on the safe side

• Build a gravity-defying upside down house like the birds in The Twits - with Lego

• Invent some crazy but yummy-sounding treats like Mr Wonka (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory) - and think up some cool names for them - with play dough

I've made a lucky dip for the activities by simply writing brief explanations of each on strips of paper and putting them into a cloth bag for my children to dip into later. I wonder how many we'll get to do before bedtime? None of the activities need a great deal of preparation - so I won't be disappointed if we don't get to try them all. I am hoping the toad-in-the-hole will do as dinner though, so I'd better orchestrate it so that one comes out sooner rather than later, as it needs about an hour to bake in the oven.

Happy Roald Dahl Day everyone!

She sells seashells...

We were so lucky to be in Brighton at the weekend - it's a superb place to be when the sun shines. As we were staying in Hove, we spent a lot of time on the beach there. The sea gleamed and sparkled, enticing nearly everyone into its icy shallows, and the shore's pebbly surface was a treasure-seeker's paradise. There were translucent glassy gems, large rounded pale stones, smaller jagged rocks shot with quartz, and an interesting variety of sea-smoothed shells - all within easy reach of our beach-towel base. 

We used these fabulous resources for our play; building structures, making collections, setting up a seashell shop, and decorating pebbles with (washable) felt-tip colour. We even enjoyed a few games of beach noughts and crosses. As you can see below, we marked out a grid with some string then selected some pebbles - as the noughts, and shells - as the crosses, from our surroundings. It couldn't have been simpler.

And, for some, there were highly energetic aqua-frisbee games too - brrrrrrr.  I would have joined them of course, but someone had to stay out of the water to photograph the action, didn't they?

Big and little

We decided to make the most of the last days of the summer break by escaping to the country. Our little Oxfordshire camping trip was a marvellous finale to what's been a glorious six weeks of school-free adventure. We spent just two nights there; sleeping as near as possible to under the stars, and in as near as I wanted to be to a tent (actually, a small and friendly wooden pod named Robin).

Without the usual distractions of everyday life, we couldn't help but notice how brilliantly big our children have become. However it was so wonderful when a sign of their remaining littleness popped up - reminding us that they are not all-grown-up quite yet. We simply loved the big and the little of them in this precious bubble of family time. 

For example, our big kids stayed up as late as us, chatting, playing cards and reading, but once asleep they were hilariously incapable of staying inside their sleeping bags properly and they couldn't keep the right way round on their air-beds at all. We sent them off on their own to buy fresh milk and bread, which makes them seem very grown-up, until you know that the shop was actually a tiny cabin on the camp-site with an extremely helpful and understanding shopkeeper. She'd written out a little sum showing their spending, helped them to count their coins and to check their change.

On the last morning of our holiday the pair of them strolled, hand-in-hand, a little way ahead of us on a woodland walk. As we tuned in to their conversation we realised they were discussing university options, and the subjects they might study. This was, quite frankly, far too grown-up for our liking, and we were rather relieved when the conversation gradually moved away from all that and into a full-on wizard and fairy game - much more like it.

And so, my two big-and-little children went off to school today - to a new class, and to an older year group. But they are the littlest they will ever be in there today - and that's to be noted. And definitely loved.

Unpacking, Potter and pompoms

We were picking up a few groceries from our local shops when the heavens opened. We made it home just before the real show began though; a huge and prolonged storm with spectacular lightning, great monster-roars of thunder and persistent, heavy rain. The children, clearly shaken by its ferocity, retreated to their bedroom. Once I'd established that they had each found some cosy occupation to distract them from external goings-on, I had no other choice but to begin the arduous task - which I'll admit I'd been putting off since our return to London - of unpacking.

Resignedly, I emptied our suitcases, listening to the rain pouring and the thunder rumbling. But then I tuned in to another thunderstorm - one that was being described by Stephen Fry - and it was coming from my children's bedroom:

"As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows...The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep."

Buddy and Daisy had found a great way to block out the noise of the rain - by listening to the audio book of JK Rowling's Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. As I peeked into their room I could see two very happy children busy and playing as usual, but in total silence. They were clearly immersed in the world of the wizards, and oblivious to the angry weather outside. 

Once I'd finished the unpacking, I joined them - I love Harry Potter - and I brought with me our little pompom-project bag, which I'd put by for such an occasion, but which hadn't been touched for weeks. They found the sight of me happily working on my pompom irresistible, and soon they joined me in a bit of wool winding while we listened to Harry's adventures.

So, not only did no-one get scared by the storm yesterday, but I got my unpacking done and we finished our rainy-day craft project at last. Here are the super-soft and wonderfully tactile Pompom Pets.

Our Olympic games

Here's how the London 2012 Olympic Games have influenced our adventures at home this week:

On Thursday we went to see BP's Olympic Journey: The Story of the Games at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden. The exhibition explores the sporting and cultural history of the Olympic Movement with a marvellous mixture of multi-media, medals and artefacts, and although photography was prohibited, as we left we were given a glossy and well-produced souvenir brochure packed with fantastic Olympic facts and photographs. My children were particularly taken with the huge display of Olympic torches and, once home, my youngest wanted to make her own. She requested a cardboard tube, some tin foil and tape, some red, yellow and orange tissue paper and referring to the brochure's photograph of her favourite - Athens 2004 - she made a fine torch for herself. She was delighted with her efforts as you can see from the torch-bearing  garden dance below:

                       

My son has been particularly interested in the TV coverage of the fencing - so much so that not only did we find ourselves at the Olympic Journey's exhibit about the multi-medal winning Edoardo Mangiarotti for about half an hour, but I've since had to become good at making paper foils at home. And I've signed Bud up for a taster fencing session here in September. He is thrilled.

                                               

                                                   [Image from Italia Wikipedia]

We stayed up late to watch the men's 100 metre Olympic final last night, and were hugely impressed with Usain Bolt's performance. Today, my children were amused and impressed by the attention to detail of this lovely Lego animation of the race.

                                             [video clip from YouTube by Brick by Brick]

And last but not least, with friends round this afternoon, I eavesdropped on some brilliant Olympic-themed play. From an imaginative/fantasy adventure with themselves as penguins competing in the Games to actual sporting events like beanbag tin can alley and a pompom 'hammer-throwing' competition, I had to keep well clear so as not to ruin their flow and to avoid being hit by the improvised projectiles. My son even asked to have his face painted - a very rare request these days - and he knew exactly what he wanted. I was happy to oblige; printing coloured rings on his face was a doddle compared with the meerkat I had to produce just moments before Bolt's race last night. I think I deserve a medal for giving it a go.

Anyone for tennis?

What do you do when you have two children; one who wants to play tennis with you - properly, on a court, and everything - and one who is simply too young to see this as anywhere near being a tempting activity?

Here's how we worked it out:

Daisy (my youngest) said she would only come along to the park if she could bring a pair of scissors, some string and a piece of paper - to make a mask - while Bud and I played tennis. Naturally, I agreed to her brilliantly specific request, and for the first five minutes she was happily occupied with some on-court making. I do love her style. But when a rogue tennis ball landed in her lap, she surprised us both by picking it up, hopping onto her scooter and delivering it to me in a kind of drive-by fashion, gliding effortlessly like an ice skater on the smooth tennis court surface. 'I'll be your ball girl!" she announced.

And so she was. For the rest of the match she swooped in graceful curves to scoop up the errant tennis balls and then passed them on to whoever was 'serving'. She stored our spare balls in her little scooter bag - perfect. And to top it all - and this was totally by chance - she was wearing her little blazer today, making her look like a proper Wimbledon official.

I don't know if Daisy will be interested in actually playing tennis with us one day, or whether Bud will ever be able to get the ball over the net more than once in a blue moon. But this was a truly happy hour spent on the sunny court this evening; playing by our own bespoke and somewhat curious rules. And as you can see from these snaps - they had a marvellous match.