And Germany's Silly Season Begins.....

One of the difficult things about living in a foreign country for an extended period of time is learning how to handle their customs. Many European countries celebrate carnival for the week in the run up to Ash Wednesday, dressing up and scaring off evil spirits. 

For the first seven years that I lived in Germany I simply ignored their carnival season. But since having children, I have had to get used to the fact that I have to get involved, if only for their sake. 

The first few years it was all a bit of a chore - face painting a toddler, dressing him up in fancy dress, dressing me up in fancy dress, bringing him to a parade and faking having a good time just isn't my thing. 

The past four years though have found me looking forward to Fasching, the name used here for canival. I've found a role I am happy with - the role of amateur entertainment officer. 

Each of the past four years has seen me involved in the entertainment at kindergarten as part of their festivities. I've dressed up as a spider and as a traditional Bavarian lady, I've made hand puppets for the Punch and Judy show and I've even been a walking, talking sack of spuds.  

Added to that there has been the creating of costumes for the boys - one each for kindergarten / school, one each for wearing to the parade, one each for the sports club Fasching party. It takes a lot of planning. 

This year I outdid myself entirely and made a Gruffalo cake for today's Gruffalo-themed dress up day at kindergarten. Tonight will see me decorating the sports hall for tomorrow's Punch and Judy show and prompting my fellow entertainers if they forget their lines. 

By this time tomorrow I imagine I will be shattered and it will only be day 2 of the six day carnival. But for the sake of my little knight, my very own R2D2 and my little dinosaur, I'm happy to take on some extra work*.

*Extra work that involves a lot of things I love to do, baking, crafting, sewing and lots of excuses to get out of the house, meet up with other mammies and sometimes share a bottle of prosecco as we plan the festivities. 

In Search Of Hall Doors

Our house was built in the mid 1950s, a time when Germany was still receovering from the second world war and when people had to make do with a lot less than nowadays. 

This house, like most of the houses on our short street, was built as a small house with a good-sized garden for growing fruit and vegetables. Attached to the house, when it was built originally, was a shed for housing animals. 

The previous owners of our house renovated the former animal accommodation and made a bathroom and two bedrooms out of it. The hallway was extended by about 90cm in length in the process. 

Where the front door was originally is now an doorway. The hinges and doorframe remain. For a few years we used to talk about putting a curtain across it but we never got round to it. The more I think about it, the more I see that it would block out the light that comes in from the windows in the front door.

Lately I have been thinking that what we need to finish off the hall is a set of narrow double doors. I'm thinking wooden doorframes painted white or a light grey and with bevelled glass panels to let in light but keep out draughts.

Photo Credit / Source

I really like the look of this set- shabby but incredibly elegant. I can imagine them opening inward, letting the sunshine our into my sparklingly clean hall, something like the scene in the picture below. 

Photo Credit / Source

As I say, in my imagination. My hall is never this clean.

For the moment I'll have to keep dreaming, of the doors, of the sunshine and of the sparkling hall. Glass doors and sticky toddler hands don't pair well. 

I've begun looking for inspiration on Pinterest, so pop over and take a look at my board to see more of what I'm hoping to one day have.

Folge Fionnualas Pinnwand „Hallway Double Doors“ auf Pinterest.

One of these days I'll be taking measurements and keeping my eyes peeled for doors to salvage or pick up at a flea market. Where there's a will, there's a way. 

5 Things That Say Me - A Linky

There are things I have that I love because, to me at least, they just scream "Fionnuala", reflecting elements of my personality and my loves in life. In short, they sum me up. It is the opposite of personification.

They are things that I *could* live without, if I had to. But I have them because either I couldn't leave them behind or because someone else thought of me when they saw them. 

1. An original copy of The Penguin Book of Food Growing, Storing and Cooking, published in 1941.

I bought this along with another Penguin Special, Food: The Deciding Factor (1941) at the George's Street Arcade in 2001. It covers how to grow and cook a huge range of vegetables and was brought out as an informative guide during World War II. 

To me, it is much more than that. It is a book of historical relevance, but not a history book, giving a glance into what life was like during that awful period of time. It is a reminder to me of one of my favourite places in Dublin, the George's Street Arcade. But what touches me most is that it serves as a useful guide to me in growing vegetables in my own garden in Germany, the country never mentioned but ever-present in the book.

2. My antique writing box

I am very lucky to have been brought up in a very old house. A house that I am sure holds fascinating stories from long before my time. I have never been in the attic of the house. It was too dangerous for children. In my mind, as a child, it was as mysterious as the wardrobe was to Lucy in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe for it was the source of many exciting things - old china plate with hand-painted patterns, and various other treasures including a damaged old wooden box which opened out into a miniature desk, lined with cracked leather and containing a little ink jar. 

For years and years I asked my parents to have it renovated. They didn't, so I asked for it for my 21st birthday, with the intention of some day having it restored. Initially they said no, but on the day of my birthday party I was presented with the writing box, beautifully restored. 

3. My butterfly earrings

These are my absolute favourite earrings and I try not to over-wear them. My best friend sent them to me as a surprise. She saw them and thought I would like them. How right she was! And how pleased I was to know how well she knows me. 

A combination of nature, pearls, a floral pattern and an elegant shape, they are the perfect earring, for me.

4. Our house

As a child I always imagined having a house with two staircases, rooms under the eaves, an orchard and a cottage garden. I'm not quite sure where I got these notions, but they lasted. 

As we viewed house after house over a couple of years, I began to realise that I would have to settle for something different and make it my own.

Then we came here. Opening the garden gate and stepping in felt like coming home. In front of me was an apple tree, next to it a fig tree and beyond that pear, plum and walnut trees. The tulips were in bloom underneath a lilac bush and in the centre of the garden was a herb rockery. 

The house itself is my favourite colour, blue, has two staircases and has three bedrooms under the eaves. Immediately I could picture us living here. And life here has not failed to make me happy.

5. A fabric collage which belonged to my grandmother

I wrote a post about this picture last year. It sums me up in that it combines my loves - family, arts and crafts, the Irish countryside, fabrics and cosy homes. 

I have set this up as a once-off linky, open until the end of February. Feel free to join in if you'd like to share which possessions reflect you best and scream your name. 

Our Week In Dinners, 24th-31st January

For the past year I have been reading lots of blogs from the Irish Parenting Bloggers and every so often I come across a mention of Sinead's (from Bumbles of Rice) week in dinners. I think this little linky is a great idea and had been keeping an eye out for it. 

Well, on Monday morning, just as I came in the door with the grocery shopping, my phone pinged with an e-mail - Sinead has started her linky again. If you are interested in joining, here is the link.

Dinners in our house are a bit confusing. You see, for the last 17 months Number Two hasn't got his full-day place in kindergarten anymore. So he comes home for lunch. Number One gets a hot meal at school in the middle of the day Monday to Wednesday and The Bavarian eats his dinner in the canteen at work in the middle of the day. 

Often Number Three, Number Two and I have our dinner in the middle of the day, with Number One joining us on Thursdays and Fridays. The problem is, I am a dinner-in-the-evening, lunch-at-lunchtime kind of person. Try as I might, I just can't get used to dinner in the day. I try to get round this by making a hearty soup like Minestrone  for the middle of the day. But there are some days when I make dinner twice. 

There are others when I don't eat a warm meal at all because no-one wants one. On those kind of days we have "kalt" for dinner. Kalt is the German word for cold and my children use it to mean having what we called a tea-dinner in my house when I was a child - bread, cheese, cold meats, maybe a salad and a fruit platter and some yogurts.

The past week  of dinners (whether eaten at lunchtime or dinnertime) looked like this.

Sunday

On Sunday we grazed. I had had a dinner party the previous night and had served mezze / tapas type dishes. There was enough left over to feed us all whenever we got hungry throughout the day. This is what the original meal looked like.

Front the bottom of the picture to the top, there was garlicky flatbread, Parma ham, Puy lentils, marinated olives, red pepper hummus, feta and spinach filo rolls, baba ganoush, cherry tomato salad, Irish salmon with dill and caper dressing, grilled courgettes with mozzerella and my version of The Busy Mama's bread. All homemade and well worth the hours spent in the kitchen on Saturday.

Monday

Originally I had planned a roast chicken for Sunday but what with all the leftovers, it made no sense to cook it. I roasted it for Monday evening. I happen to have goose fat in the fridge, so it rubbed it all over the chicken along with some herbed salt and roasted it for 2 hours at 150°C. For the last 20 minutes I gave it a blast at 200°C to crisp up the skin. I hadn't time for stuffing but i did shove some garlic and a bunch of flat-leaf parsley into the chicken before roasting it. Number One wanted roast potatoes, as did I, and Number Two wanted mash, so I made both as well as carrots and gravy.  

The picture shows the previous weekend's chicken. I made it exactly the same way and just prepared mre veg and no mash. 

Tuesday

Wednesday

Since I had lentils and chickpeas in the house for the dinner party, I decided to use them up and make a tasty stew. Unfortunately I a the only chickpea eater in the house. I got three meals out of it and can't remember what the others ate. Probably "kalt".

Thursday

The boys' new favourite soup is chicken noodle. We are in the lucky position of still being able to get two days out of a meduim-sized chicken. 

I took most of the remaining meat off the chicken and made stock with an onion, a carrot, a few black peppercorns and some parsley. After simmering it for about 90 minutes or so, I strained it, brought it to the boil, seasoned it with salt and pepper and added broken up spaghetti to it. When the pasta was almost done, I added the chicken meat. 

Poor Number Three couldn't understand when it was all gone. He kept walking over to the hob with a bowl looking for "moh" (more).

Friday

I had made bolognese on Thursday night for Friday's lunch and there was enough left over for the kids to have their dinner from it. It was eaten with spaghetti at lunchtime and with cheese-filled tortellini in the evening. 

The Bavarian and I had a Thai green curry with peppers, brocolli and carrot. The picture shows the one I made the previous week with prawns in stead of brocolli. The Bavarian wasn't too thrilled with the lack of prawns this time, but he got over it. 

Saturday

While I was out at the shops for an hour on Saturday morning, THe Bavarian made Frikadellen, a German meat patty somewhere between a meatball and a hamburger. We ate them at lunchtime with bread rolls and intended cooking in the evening. By the time evening came round, the headache I had woken up with was still there and I had been sneezing all afternoon, so we scrapped our cooking plans and ate "kalt". That looked something like this.

This Is Motherhood #19

249 Posts Later

This day last year I published my first post on this blog. I'm still blogging, I'm still at home, I'm still happy. 

It has been a great year (more on that here) and I am very glad that I gave blogging another go, having set up a cookery blog in 2008 and only posting periodically. Since setting up Three Sons Later I have found that I have quite a lot to say on quite a lot of topics. 

Some days I am really pleased at the quality of my writing. Other days I am more focussed on the topic than on the writing and it irriates me when I can't put my thoughs onto the screen exactly as I would like to. 

My writing isn't as good as I would like it to be. Practice probably won't make it perfect, but it has improved it, and I hope it will continue to improve. 

As for the content, I have tried to write what I know about and what interests me and not be steered by what others are doing or want me to do. 

I don't feel I have veered off course too much. My original idea was for this blog to be a reflection of me and our life. So, here's to many more years of Three Sons Later. May it grow and develop, just as my boys do. 

Cheers!

Fionnuala x

When Your Small Child Swears

I swear too much. Not as much as if I still lived in Ireland, but too much. I don't like the children to hear it, but they have at times.

Parenting books will tell you that if your small child swears, you should not laugh. I agree and I managed that for a long time, putting on my serious face and getting cross, explaining that that is not language for children to use and promising to not swear in front of the children ever again.

But then one day I laughed. I had to. There was nothing else I could do.

We were in the car, Number Two and I. A woman drove towards us incredibly slowly, blocking our way and not indicating when she should have, thereby delaying us unnecessarily. 

I was about to mutter under my breath, as usual, when from the back seat came the words "F**k almighty! She was a bad driver!" followed by "Why are you laughing Mammy? She was a bad driver".

What Children See

This photo was taken in December 2010 when my then 28 month old son asked my why there was a picture of a man with a suitcase and a ball on the door of the baby changing room. 

The experience reminded me that in June 2002 I bought a book  called Ways of Seeing by John Berger. The topic of the book is not necessarily how children see the world, but it does eging with the point that one sees before one speaks. 

A child can see and reconise images long before he is ever able to describe what he has seen. Even once we can speak, we see the images around us before we open our mouths to comment on them.

The book goes on to discuss art, adverts and photographs and what message the images convey to us. It is a highly interesting read and I would recommend it if you are in any way interested in the subject. 

But back to the world through the eyes of a child. Since the episode with the man with the suitcase and the ball, there have been countless reminders of how different a child's view of things is to an adult's. 

Like this time, when the box we'd just received a parcel in became a fantastic plaything.

Or when Number Two came downstairs with the newborn insert from a car seat on his head and told me it was the hat of a soldier in the old days.

Or on the regular occasions when the sofa becomes a trampoline or a Viking ship.

Or when the bunk beds become pirate ship and my box of red candles gets confiscated as dynamite.

I showed Number One the top photo again recently and asked him what it was. "The sign for a baby changing room", he said, looking at me as if I had lost my mind. He's obviously growing up.

A Long Overdue Patchwork Quilt

I am a born hoarder. As I type I am wearing a skirt I bought in 1997. I am not stingy, I just have trouble parting with things I like. 

So it follows that I am not a natural de-clutterer. The January clear out bug has never hit me. That is until this year. It is probably because I am at home and I see the amount of, well stuff, for want of a better word, that is around the house. 

A few days ago I attacked my wardrobe. One big bin-bag got filled. Obiously a few older pieces survived. Next up was the guest room, which doubles as my hobby room. As I cleared and sorted and binned stuff, I came across one of my unfinished projects - a patchwork quilt.

This project has been around for three or four years. I am not quite sure why it didn't ever get finished but I am determinded to finish it, and soon.

Back when Number Two was still sleeping in a cot (he is now 5 1/2), I decided to sew him a quilt for when he would move into his own big boy bed. 

I thought up a colour scheme (greens and greys) and a theme (leaves) and I bought the fabric in Ikea. I even got as far as sewing all the patches together and got started on attaching the wadding and backing material. And there it ended. Why? Who knows.

In the meantime Number Two has not only moved from a cot to a bed but has moved from that bed to another bedroom and a set of bunk beds. The quilt no longer matches the colour scheme of his room.

Nevertheless I am determinded to finish this quilt. We'll find a place for it somewhere. Perhaps Number Three would like it given that he sleeps in Number Two's old room. It is more suited to the colour scheme there. And it is not really a hand-me-down if no-one has ever used it, is it?

Sudden and Unanticipated Changes to the Bathroom

If one was to spend the better part of the afternoon urging and cajoling a very stubborn child to please finish their homework and stop acting the maggot, and if one was then to take a small child along into the bathroom and try to clean the bathroom and if one was then to get annoyed with the stupid ugly wonky old towel hanger, toothbrush holder and soap dish which the previous house owners installed and which you never liked anyway  and if one was to decide to remove them immediately, what would one use for the job?

Supposing the urge to remove said accessories strong and the only tools to hand  in the bathroom were a scissors, a nail clippers and some bathroom wipes, would one proceed with the job? Even if some accessories were attached with +  screws and some with - screws? And if one did, would one make it a personal goal to get the effing rawl plugs out too while one was at it?

If one did, the results *might* look something like this and one *might* be overcome with a sense of calm and the feeling of being the MacGyver of the female DIY world.  

This is not a true story. If  I had included the bit about the Lego man being thrown into the freshly cleaned toilet by the small child, his being delighted with seeing the Lego man go swimming and then drying his off excitedly with a towel, having fished him out - if I had included all of that, then it would be a true story.   

My 40-By-40 Reading List

About ten years ago a good friend of mine said she was trying to get to thirty countries before she turned 30. I loved the idea and tried but didn't quite make it (I got to 24). Having a baby at the age of 29 kind of put a halt to my foreign holidays.

The other day I saw that Capture by Lucy is aiming to complete her 35 before 35 to do list and initially it made me sad that I am too old to do that. 

But then I had a brainwave. I'm trying to read more - I used to fly through books - but now rarely have the time. I can get through a real page turner in a week or so. But anything intellectually stimulating seems to just make me fall straight asleep these days.

So my big idea is to read 40 good books by the time I hit 40! I have three years to get this done. 36 months for 40 books. Manageable, right? OK, so I  will have to put my mind to it, but I am sure I can get it done. 

In the years between Number Two being born and getting pregnant with Number Three I read a reasonable amount of books, 'Possession' and 'The Children's Book', both by A. S. Byatt, included. I know I am able for something more high brow that Nick Hornby (no offence to Nick Hornby. I love his books). Recently I even got round to reading 'Death of A Salesman', which was on my books-to-read-someday list for years. 

At the moment I am reading Mary Kenny's revised version of her biography of William Joyce, a.k.a. Lord Haw-Haw. After I have finished it, these are the books I plan to move on to:

1 Wolf Hall - I own this for years now and haven't got very far with it so far. Worth another try.

2 Bringing Up The Bodies - I own this too but need to read Wolf Hall first, of course

3 The Goldfinch - I have been reliably told that it is an excellent read

4 Middlemarch - I loved the BBC version in 1994 and own the book

5 Robinson Crusoe - I have this too. The bookmark is still in it 3/4 way through. I dont know why I didn't finish it.

6 Bambi - the original book, not the Disney version, in German. I own this for seven years now and have still not read it. 

7 The Water Babies - my dad read this to us as children and I remember I loved it. I just don't remember much about it. I bought a gorgeous 19th century hardback version for a treat a few years ago but didn't get far with reading it.

8 The Wind in the Willows - I have heard the tales of Mole, Toad and co. as a bedtime story and seen it on TV but I want to read it for myself. We have two beautiful hardback copies - one belonging to Number One, the other a christening present for Number Three - so it is not like I have to go searching for the book.

9 Dracula - The Bavarian has a copy of this and I have been meaning to read it for years.

10 Er Ist Wieder Da (Look Who's Back) - this controversial farce is something I want to at least try reading. I may hate it and stop but I want to give it a chance. The Bavarian enjoxed it, my friend E. hated it. What will I make of it, I wonder?.

Books 11 to 40 are yet to be decided upon. I want to leave myself the option of reading books that are yet to be published. I would hate to feel I have to read certain books when I would really love ot be reading others I have just discovered. 

If you have any suggestions of reading material (novels please. I am not much of a textbook reader), I would be thrilled if you left me a comment. 

Happy Birthday To Me!

On Turning 37

"In three years you'll be forty and you'll have three half-grown boys by then. Then you can start to enjoy yourself again." Not quite the uplifting talk I was expecting when I was at the end of my tether with my young children recently. 

Tomorrow is my birthday and I will turn 37. While looking back over past birthdays the other day, I found that I remember the sevens the best.

For my 7th birthday my dad brought me out for lunch, bought me a bunch of daffodils and, most exciting of all, a Twinkle magazine. I felt very much the grown up little lady that day.

My 17th birthday was eventful, but made memorable by some horrible reasons. My mother was taken into hospital the day before and, to make matters worse, all of my school friends forgot my birthday. I visited the Turner watercolours in the National Gallery in Dublin alone and went out that night to someone else's 18th birthday party. 

The good times returned for my 27th birthday. The night before my birthday The Bavarian and I got engaged. You can't get much better than waking up on your birthday knowing that very exciting times are beginning. 

So what lies in wait for me tomorrow, I wonder? With the buzz of engangement, marriage and childbirth behind me now, I don't reckon with anything spectacular. And I would rather that no-one gets sick or forgets me. 

I'd be happy with a grown-up version of my 7th birthday, swapping the Twinkle magazing for something else twinkly. 

An Open Letter To Frankfurt Airport

Dear Frankfurt Airport,

We have a bit of a history, don't we, you and I? I can look back now and laugh about the day you almost set the police on me for having an empty bullet cartridge in my check-in luggage. At the time it wasn't so funny. 

The Christmas my husband and I and our two young sons were snow-bound within your walls for three days has become a family anecdote. You treated us well and son number one even appeared on the evening news the second day. 

There were a few pleasantly uneventful years as we flew over and back between Frankfurt and Dublin. The children learnt the ropes and got used to walking through the security portal. The security staff were always friendly to them. My husband and I were never concerned about the situation. 

All that changed, however, with the introduction of the body scanning pods you now have in place. We first encountered them in July. It felt odd to have to strike a particular pose and be scanned conpared to walking throught a doorway and hearing, or not hearing, a beep.

It stuck us as a little strange that the baby had to be handed through the pod by me to my husband and that he had to be frisked the the security lady as my husband held him. 

The old system of walking through the portal with the baby on my arm was preferable, but no longer an option. I tend not to carry explosives, knives or guns and even if I did I doubt would hide them about my baby's person. But maybe I am not your typical passenger.  

On the evening of 26th December 2015 I undertook my first trip to Dublin alone with my three young sons. I was prepared for a lot - that one of them might briefly get lost, there would be a tantrum, or a nappy would leak. I was not in the least prepared for what actually happened.

Standing in the queue for the security scan, we took off our jackets, took out our liquids and unpacked our electronics. Seasoned travellers that we are, we thought we knew what was going on. 

Our turn came. "Are you travelling alone?" the security staff asked me. I replied that I was, with my three sons. Naively I expected some sort of assistance. 

First son number one (7 y/o) then son number 2 (5 y/o) went through the pod. As I entered the pod I saw a security man lead my sons away to the cabinets. I called to him to please wait for me. His female colleague, who was holding my toddler, blocked my way and told me to stay in the pod. 

As I was scanned my young sons were frisked. Out of my sight and against my wishes. By one person. No witness there to ensure procedures were followed. They didn't kick up a fuss or call for their mammy. They were on their best behaviour, knowing that their mammy had asked them to be good boys at the airport.

I wish now that I had clingy, bold children. Children who would scream and make a fuss, stamp on the toes of security personnel and run back to their mammy when someone tries to touch them. 

When I tried to complain I was told by the same female employee who blocked my way out of the pod, "Wir haben hier Vorschriften" [we have regulations]. Shocked, and not wanting to risk upsetting my children, I babbled something about how children should not be frisked without a parent present. 

Sadly, I was ignored. We gathered our belongings from the conveyor rollers and proceeded to the boarding gate. That is three weeks ago now, but I haven't been able to shake the feeling that this is very bad policy, malicious or not as the motives may have been. 

Just as you are concerned about the security and welfare of your passengers, I am primarily interested in the security and well-being of my children. As long as I can help it, I will not let anyone take them away and frisk them. 

My advice to you: take a good look at your "Vorschriften" and your technology, then change them.  Make it your policy that children's parents are asked and are present, if and when children really do need to be frisked after being scanned. I mean, how useless must those body scanners be if children with nothing in their pockets, wearing no buckles, belts or chains and with no metal plates inside their bodies have to be frisked as a security precaution?

Thankfully all this seems to have passed over my children's heads. But I know what I will be drilling into them before we travel through Frankfurt Airport again. "Listen to Mammy and no-one else. Scream and shout and struggle if anyone, even a security person, tries to lead you away. Be bold and make a show". 

In anticipation of a family-friendlier Frankfurt Airport,

Yours,

Fionnuala

This Is Motherhood #018

Creating a Play Area For A Toddler

Number Three is a full blown toddler now. There is no denying it. He has been walking for six months and he is getting more and more independent with playing. 

When we got back from our post-Christmas holiday in Ireland, I realised it was time to re-arrange our play area so that he could have his own space. 

Up till now, what would normally be the dining room end of our long, narrow livingroom has been the boys' playroom. The floor was always littered with Lego, Playmobil and toy cars. With Number Three wandering round looking for something to play with, we couldn't go on with this situation.

Refreshed after the 12 day break from home, I got stuck into the playroom re-organisation last week and I am so pleased with the results. One week in, I can tell you that it is much easier to manage and to keep tidy. 

Basically, what I have done is fence the older boys in (I'll elaborate in a moment) and set up a toddler-friendly area separate from the big boys' realm.  

We have a fantastic room-divider that is like a massive stair gate. It is one of the best things I have bought since having Number Three (you can see the edge of it on the far left of the photo above). I've used it to cordon off half of the play area. The bookshelf and all teh toys with small pieces have been put in there. Number One and Number Two can go in and out of it as they please by opening the toddler-proof gate. Number Three can't get in, unless the gate is left open.  

But back to the toddler area itself. Back in 2010 I picked up a gorgeous red vintage bench, chair and matching red and white table at a flea market for the bargain price of €30. It was money wel spent, I can tell you. Number One and Number Two got a lot of use out of it and it has very few marks to show for it. This set has become the basis of Number Three's section of the playroom. 

Both the table and the bench have storage space built in, which makes tidying up really easy. The drawer of the table is shallow but wide and is the perfect place to keep crayons, pencils, paper and colouringbooks. 

The seat of the bench lefts up to reveal a surprisingly deep toy box. At the moment we have all the soft toys in there as well as some books. The older pair have grown out of the Punch and Judy puppets but Number Three collapses into fits of laughter as soon as I do a little bit of improv for him. 

When I was expecting Number Two in the very hot summer of 2010, I hand-sewed the navy gingham cushion for the bench. The car cushion covers were present for the boys a few years ago. If I remeber rightly, they are from the German chain Butlers. 

Of course, no room is my house is complete withouta salvaged chair and this playroom is no exception. The metal chair with the woven red seat is one of three I salvaged from our local kindergarten. They would otherwise have been dumped. I love the, literally, old school look of them and the chipped paint. Luckily there is no rust on them and the pain doesn't flake off, so there is no danger to Number Three.

The walls were already decorated with a large map of Germany and our Little Linguists' alphabet chart. The new furniture arrangement is low enough as not to block them out. All three children can access them.

There are, of course, too many toys to accommodate them all within the bench. This red basket holds all the bulky cars, trucks and Lego Duplo pieces. It is made of rubber rather than hard plastic, so it won't crack or break as it takes abuse from a boisterous toddler. 

I bought it in Aldi a year or two ago, attracted by the cute cloud-cutout pattern. Since them it has had various roles around the house - first as a toybox for Number Two them a basket for throws and blankets beside the sofa. I think it fits into its new home here in the play area very nicely. 

Overall I am really pleased with how the new arrangement has worked out. So far Number Three has spent a lot of time pottering about, discovering his toys and climbing on his new-to-him furniture. 

The way I've set things up, I can keep an eye on him from my desk, the sofa or while I iron. He can't get to the big boy toys and is happy with what he does have access to. So, so far, we are on to a winner.