My country kid...

I think my urban baby is a "Country Kid" at heart...  He was born in the shadow of Big Ben, overlooking the Houses of Parliament (the views from St Thomas' labour ward really are incredible!).  

He lives with us in our little urban oasis (Kennington), but just a few hundred metres from one of London's busiest roundabouts, shopping centre and housing estate nexus (Elephant and Castle).  

One of his earliest words was a gleeful "nee-naw, nee-naw!", due no doubt to the regularity of passing police cars.

But despite all that, I genuinely believe I have a country boy on my hands.

The evidence?

1. The boy just cannot be contained indoors.  From the moment I carry him downstairs (barefoot and still wearing his jim-jams) it's "..'side! 'Side!!!!" ("Please may you unlock the back door mother, so I can go and play outside.")

2. If there is any hint that we may be about to leave the house (even if we just need to pop to the corner shop for some milk) the boy is standing by the front door shouting "park! PARK!!!"

3. Indeed, if he is forced to spend some time playing in the living room (sadly indoors), at least he has his favourite book for mummy to read to him.  "Pip and Posey and the Super Scooter" is a perilous tale of jealousy and comeuppance... But, to the boy's delight, it is entirely set within a park.  So he will happily point to the trees, flowers, swings and slide and pretend that he is there.

4. He has an uncanny ability to commune with animals, even those of the urban variety (pigeons, squirrels, even the snails that leave trails across our back yard).  Our young cat is clearly his favourite family member, and they will happily chase each other around the house all day.  And if, woe betide mummy, he has been cruelly strapped into his pushchair for the journey to the nearest park, he is still easily distracted by any number of passing "dug"s... 

Who knows how this will pan out in the future?  For now, I am happy to indulge my country kid - as I am very much a country mummy at heart.