What's in a Name?

I imagine, on the scale of measuring childhood milestones, that your little one learning his name would rate quite highly. You see a sense of identity being unfurled before your very own eyes, as they begin to grasp the concept of who they might one day become.

What then, does one make of this landmark toddler moment, when said child seems to believe he has been christened with the name “Harrison No”???

Allow me to set the comical scene for you…

Not so long ago, in a galaxy far, far close by, that readily resembles my life, my home – a doppelganger existence of my whole world – a beautiful flaxen haired, blue eyed boy tested his boundaries so much so, on a daily basis, the sound of the words “Harrison No” fused together and formed a regular catchphrase, that echoed around his existence.

Time and again this vernacular was rolled out for presentation – at the end of mealtimes, when a now surplus to requirements spoon could be seen being hurled across the kitchen floor; or perhaps if a ever curious hand crept towards the TV remote, or (and this is becoming increasingly common) when he darted from my grasp in a busy shopping centre, intent on bearing down with speed in the complete opposite direction of where we should be heading. All of these scenarios (and more) often called for the now familiar phrase of “Harrison No” to be heard.

So, I cant help but wonder, has this staple statement oft sprouted in our universe suddenly responsible for the son deciding it’s actually his name?

It had been a fairly routine Sunday night, when we had our first sample of this newly assumed identity. Bath time was over, and the husband decided to play a game with his son. Hoisting him up to mirror height, he points at me “Who’s that” he asked “Mummy!” comes his swift reply. This time Tone points to himself and asks the same question; and is duly answered “Daddy!”. So we move then to pointing to the son, asking “And who is that?”…. And that, ladies and gentleman, is when the baby boy informed us that he is now to be known as “Harrison No”.

Cue spluttering laughter and shocked saucer eyes from the amused parents – with a cheeky giggle thrown in for good measure from the son.

To strengthen my case, yesterday morning as I crept about in my early morning fug, attempting to ready myself for an onslaught out in the paid working world, I heard a stirring from my boy’s room. Inching his door shut, in the vain hope I’d draw out his down time, I heard a murmur escape from within. “Harrison No” he mumbled, still drowsy with sleep. Whether he was merely greeting himself at the dawn of a new day, or rightly admonishing himself for some unknown wrong, I guess I’ll never know.

Days on from that first announcement of his newly assumed title, and he is still responding automatically to the “what’s your name” questions with a stock standard “Harrison No” response. Whether its to elicit laughter from us, or is just second nature to him, I’m honestly starting to believe he thinks it REALLY is his name. And for now, I think we’ll keep it as its just too damn cute!

"Cousin-ly" Love

In this day and age, with families flung far and wide, it’s now nigh on impossible for cousins to grow up alongside each other, ensconced in the family fold, the way it used to be. The blood bond however, is one that thankfully stands the test of time and takes the drains of distance. I should know; I have 28 first cousins, all of which are dotted around the eastern seaboard of Australia, meaning gatherings can be few and far between. Yet it’s akin to being a part of an exclusive “next of kin” type club. You simply pick up where you left off, warmed by the naturally shared extended family bond.


This was true for Harrison, this past weekend, when we enjoyed a Webeck get together in Newcastle to celebrate Harrison’s “Mama & Papa’s” 40th wedding anniversary. More than anything else, for him, it meant a much anticipated 2 day play date with his 5mth older cousin Aidan, whom he had only seen about half a dozen times in his little life (and lets face it, those first few encounters fail to count when you consider neither of them really knew they were separate entities to their Mummies!). So this weekend was one of the first times that the boys truly came into their own and began to grow their mutual bond of love, respect and (ambitiously) sharing toy tractors and trains.


From the first squeal of mutual delight, there was a special unspoken bond seared into their sub conscious that shone through in the effortless way in which they giggled, giddy with delight, chasing each other with reckless abandon. At 5am, when the son decided he wanted to get his day under way, it was for “Ad-en” whom he requested he see first up. The peals of innocent laughter that formed the soundtrack to our weekend, will be something that no doubt carries through their entire lives, despite the 5hr distance which separates them.


Too, Harrison has an extra special bond with his much adored big cousin Logan, and baby cousin Mason. Having previously lived only 20 minutes apart, his interactions with the Stewart cousins have been many, varied, and, at times, requiring a patient referee. Yes, Harrison has had to learn the hard way not to get between Logan and his beloved bin truck, but he looks upon his biggest cousin with such unreserved delight that despite any differences of opinion, he is set high upon a pedestal that I suspect no other can emulate.

When it comes to little Mason, his “baby” cousin by one year his junior, Harrison fairly much ignored his entire existence until one dark day when the littlest Stewart was left in the care of Aunty Donna - a day when Harry was definitely in no mood to share his Mummy. Suddenly the nameless and shapeless form who’d merely just existed in the corner of his life, came into existence! But after the bumpy first interaction, he now dearly loves his little “Missin” so much so that every baby he sees is now called by that same name!


So we may be divided by the constraints of distance, but the simple fact that Harrison is lucky enough to have 3 beautiful cousins, and all of which he simply adores, stands him in good stead to mature into adolescence and beyond with the bond of cousinly love !

The Power of Two

My son has started to cultivate a curious obsession with the Number 2. And no, I’m not making some ribald attempt at toilet humour or reference to which this blog was born (but, if you are wondering, yes, he still does speed through a weekly supply of nappies in about 3 days, especially when we continue to have episodes which require 3 pit stop changes in the mere space of 15 minutes!). Instead, I’m talking about the interesting little fascination Harrison has developed of late, by which all things must said, done, given etc in the multiple of two.
Let me explain this (hopefully not borderline obsessive compulsive!) fixation through example. You give him a piece of banana – he automatically responds by asking for another by saying “Two”. Or perhaps you hand him a matchbox car to play with – his automatic request again is: “two”. Or he will exclaim with delight when he sees a car or truck or bus, and he’ll demand (and expect a response) “TWO BUSES! TWO!!!”

And so on it goes – all things relatable to my son must be carried out to the power of two. I’ll try and say “No, just one” but he’ll emphatically insist that there be two of anything involved in any matter.

Forgive me if I sounds as if I’m bragging – I’m not but give me time – as his numeracy skills could do with some sharpening.

Last month, when paying a visit with his “Pappy” to the Farm, they went walking in search of the cows. Excitedly, Harrison proclaimed “Moo’s, 2 Moos, there’t tis!”. Yes they were cows (he has been known to also label pigs and giraffes Moo’s as well), but he’ll not an accountant make. About 20 of the bovine variety spread out before us in the paddock, quite a few more than the two he was insisting were there!

But still, we cant be too disappointed that from the age of 15 months he started progressing towards tackling the all important “count to 10 skill” (did someone mention bragging??) but God help me, if he does learn another few numbers higher soon, then I am going to have to hire an extra set of hands to attach to me , to try and accommodate carrying and feeding him to sate his numeric fetish!