Misfiled

There is a new blog-entry but it has been misfiled below the Dancing-blog...sorry for the confusion.
Yours truly, Oscar

Dancing

As I told you in a previous blog, I simply love dancing. It's enough that my parents put on a CD, or that I press a button of one of my toys that make a sound, and I start dancing or turning around until I get all dizzie. I also told you that I might add a video of myself dancing to the blog and, well, guys...here it is! Enjoy

P.S. Don't hesitate to join my dancing if the beat of the music starts shaking your hips...

My mum -the cannibal!!!

I’d like to share with you a secret. A very dark secret. The other day I found out that my mum is a cannibal –a man-eater!! I didn’t actually see her eat anyone –thanks god for that, but she probably ate him at lunch when I was at the kindergarten. So how do I know? Well, she is not really trying to hide it, nor is she ashamed of it or anything. One day when I sat in her lap and she was reading a book to me she simply told me so herself. She was very illustrious and pointed at her stomach as she went on and on about some friend of mine that was in there. I got really shocked, and didn’t hear half of what she was saying. Afterwards I thought I might have misheard but she repeated it again later, your friend, she said, in there –finger on the tummy. I didn’t sleep particularly well that night and my dreams were a little disturbed. Next day at kindergarten there were 3 kids missing, Davide the rumba-dancing south American, Gaia with the emerald-green fairy-tale eyes and Sofie the fountain that never stops crying. I got really worried and thought my mum might have eaten all of them, but then I heard the teachers talk about that they’d all got some bad cold and were staying at home. What a relief! But it also means that I still don’t know whom my mum actually ate. The next day she tried to cheer me up telling me a story about a big bird that will fly from a far to come and see us next autumn. She knows I love birds, so this was a nice surprise to me. But then she started again talking about that friend that I don’t know who is and her stomach and I got all confused and lost the thread.

A few days later I got confirmed that what she’d told me was really true. It was Monday, and I should have been at kindergarten, but I had just got over a really bad flu, so my parents were forced to take me with them on their errands. They went to a big house somewhere on the other end of town. We had to wait a long time in a small room, and judging from what I saw there, my mum is not the only cannibal in Pavia. There were lots and lots of other women there that looked as if they’d also eaten a baby -or even two, for their stomachs were sooo swollen -and they seemed just as much at peace with their conciuosness as my mum. Finally a woman dressed in white (just like the butcher -come to think of it) called my mum’s name and then we followed her into a small room where my mum was told to lie down on a strange bed on wheels. Then they started to scan my mum’s tummy with a probe and I could see on a small screen that this friend that she had been going on about for some days, was really there. The lady in white pointed out hands and legs and head and all on the screen, so I don’t think my mum had gone very far with the digestion. Then the lady congratulated my parents (for eating a baby?) and patted me on my head and said it was nice for me to have a little friend in there. I don’t think that was very responsible of her –she should have called the police instead to tell them what my mum had been up to! I wanted to ask her if she knew who this friend of mine was, but I didn’t know how to phrase the question and before I knew of it we were back home. Some time has passed now, and I continue to watch my mum closely. I think that her stomach has swollen a bit, so maybe she has eaten just another baby, although she has said nothing about it. I just can’t help thinking that it would be better if she just gave into her chocolate-cravings instead of continuing this dreadful dreadful thing!

Confession

One of the things that my parents are trying to teach me is the difference between right and wrong, between things that can be done and can't, between good and bad. I'm a quick learner, but even if I understand things, and remember them well, it doesn't necessarily mean that I put them in practice! For example, there is a series of things that I'm not allowed to do at home: I'm not allowed to touch the radiator because it's hot, I'm not allowed to play with the toilet-brush because it's dirty and I'm not allowed to kiss the TV because it will ruin it. I have no difficulty in understanding this, and remembering this, so when I find myself e.g. in front of the radiator I know I'm not allowed to touch it, and I know why (for the other day I actually touched it while it was warm like the sun, and I did get a bit burnt!!) so I start to say nei nei nei, waving the index finger in the air. But because I like to provoke my parents, and to challange myself I also get ready to touch it. Then my parents have to jump up from whatever they were doing and come and teach me a lesson about why I cann0t touch the radiator. Sometimes I can even foresee that certain things are forbidden, so I start to say nei nei nei before my parents can even open their mouth!
One of the things that shouldn't be done, according to civilized people's division between right and wrong, is to play tricks on people, I understand this and remember this, but I wouldn't be the son of my mum if I didn't sometimes get tempted to play, if not just tiny tiny tricks on some of the good people I know. But I wouldn't be her son either if it didn't make me feel a little bit guilty when the trick is not eventually revealed. So here's my confession.
Dear friends, in one of the previous blogs, I asked you to guess which of two photos presented was of me and which one of afi-Lalli. Many people took part in the competition (some even offline), maybe it was the promise of homemade biscuits that tempted the people, or the spirit of Christmas that made them so playful, whichever the reason, they took part in the competition in good faith. Now, to this good people, I must say sorry. Sorry, sorry sorry sorry sorry (how many times before you forgive me?). The truth is that although one of the photos looked extremely similar to my dear grandad, both photos were my photos, taken the same day, maybe 3 minutes apart one from the other. Now the hoax has been revelead...well, I just hope you'll accept my apologies -and find a way to smile at this confession. And since it's all in my genes, be reassured that I will strike again....!

Flat

As most of you know, me and my parents have spent most saturdays since September going around looking for a new place to live. It has basically gone like this: my parents wake me up early saturday morning (if I didn't manage to beat them to it) and before I know of it I'm in the car, going towards Bergamo. If we're lucky, the trip takes just over an hour, but if there is some jam on the road, accident or men at work, we get a bit delayed and my parents start swearing a lot. Once we arrive to Bergamo we go from one flat to another, one agency to another, put on the jacket, take off the jacket, sit in the car, out of the car...you get the picture...! At lunchtime we normally go to a bar in Almenno San Bartolomeo, where the waitresses know us by now -and are willing to warm my lunch in the microwave! After lunch I get to sleep a bit in the car before we're off to see yet another flat with another agency, put on the jacket, take off the jacket, sit in the car, out of the car...the same circus over and over again. When we get really really exhausted we start driving towards Pavia. I don't remember most of the flats we've seen. But I do remember the comments and disccusion my parents had about them in the car on the way home. Some were too small, some too expensive, some had the bedrooms too close to the common entrance of the house, some were too old, some were too badly organized, some were unpractical, some were last floor no elevator and some were basically not our taste. It was like the quest for the holy grail, we thought we'd never arrive to a conclusion. But then, suddenly BINGO. We found the flat. Maybe not the flat of our dreams, but it had all the basic elements, was relatively new, perfectly localized in regards to all services and trains/buses and and most of all, we liked it :)
The flat is in Ponte San Pietro, which is a small town (<10.000 inhabitants) 7 km west of Bergamo in a zone called "the Bergamo Island", and which you can see highlighted in white on the first picture. PsP is close to the upper right corner of the white triangle on the map.
Our house is in the centre of Ponte San Pietro -but don't think that means that the street below will be crammed with cars, buzzling with people and outdoor cafe's and noise and the smell of garlic, dogshit and pizza -remember, 10.000 inhabitants is small on italian scale, so, yes, there are some shops there, but they do leave something to be desired and the neighbourhood is rather calm and quiet! The town is a bit cosy though, and our house is close to the river Brembo which passes through the town, and which at christmas-time hosts one of the most beautiful presepe of northern Italy. Our house is marked with a yellow label on the second picture, and the center of town is all around it. There is a kindergarten (for >3years) across the street, the trains that bring you to Bergamo in 5 minutes stop close by (but far enought so that we won't wake up to the trains at 5 o'clock in the morning), and we will be comfortably close to my dad's work.

The flat is in a relatively new house of about 20-30 flats, and we will be on 3rd (and last) floor (you can see it on the last picture, it is marked with a yellow label). It's a 3 rooms flat with a balcony and there is an elevator that brings us all the way down to floor -1 and -2 where the carpark is. We will move in, around the end of April, and I just can't wait. Think, I'll get a room all to myself to fill with toys and books and whatever I like -that will be amazing. We can expand ourselves a bit, and floors and corners of the flat wont be filled with books, brochures and other things that we now have no place to put. And best of all, when my dad wants to go home early from work, he can come and play with me immediately or we can go out to the close by playground, and he doesn't have to sit in his car, stuck in a traffic-jam on the ring road around Milano, swearing out loud for the time lost playing with his wonderful son.
We are planning to buy a sofa-bed for the living room, and I hope it means you are coming to visit us soon :)

Update

I see that time continues to pass faster than I imagine, so I guess it's time that I update you a bit about my life.
First of all, I've had a haircut. This time my mum decided it was time to leave the business to a professional (she got worn out the last time she tried to cut my hair, hehe), so she brought me to Gianni, the guy that normally cuts my dad's hair. When he saw me he said that I was to young to have my hair cut there, but my mum managed to convince him to give it a try and so I got to sit in my mum's lap in a funny chair while Gianni got the scissors. Then I started to see my hair fall to the floor like leaves in autumn and my look started to change. Gianni made several attempts to cut off my ears, but I was quicker than him and turned the head before he managed to close the scissors on my earlobes! When there was almost no hair left Gianni finally gave up and I got to go home. This is how I look now. My mum says that there is some resemblance to Sinead O'connor (as she looked like when my mum used to listen to her), but I think that I just look like a balder version of myself!
To complete my new look I broke a tiny piece of one of my front tooth. It was not easy, I had to fall face down on the kitchen tiles, and the result was that a 2mm of enamel left one of my tooth permanently, my lip bled (and became double for a while) and my mum had to comfort me in her arms until I overcame the shock. But I was successful, and think I look rather cool with my new smile :)
The talking business is going better and better. My mum recently made a list of words that I can say (or that I try to say and she manages to decipher), and this list is growing day by day and the way I say the words is advancing at the same time. Today for example I upgraded the moon (tungl in icelandic) from a ttt to tuu, yesterday buxur (trousers) advanced from ux to bu and I also made the first attempt to say kex (biscuit). As you may have understood, most of my new words are in icelandic. The only exceptions are ciao and mela (apple), which I pronounce with a beautiful mmm (the same way I say flower, blòm, in icelandic) but I sometimes say eu, for epli! The only words I pronounce in full length are mamma, pabba and the very useful nei nei nei, which I underline by shaking the index finger in the air!
The last update I wanted to give you now is about my latest passion. Dancing! As soon as I hear the first beats of a song I start moving about, shaking my hips, clapping my hands and turning around and around until I get all dizzie and fall down. If my mum can get around to it she will show you some videoclip of one of my dancing-performaces.
well folks, it's time to go, but before I say goodbye, I must share some good news with you: WE'VE BOUGHT A FLAT! I'll tell you more about it in my next blog, but until then...live, love and laugh