Toddler Art: Tissue Paper Suncatchers

How to make a suncatcher with a toddler (one year old)

Matilda is now at an age when I can show her a simple process, sit back and watch her enjoy her own aptitude and that means that - finally! - we can do some basic arts and crafts!

(We did do some "painting" when she was a baby but she didn't have a clue what was going on - it's more rewarding when she can really get into it)

One of the downsides of Matilda not going to nursery is that she's limited to my ideas and my willingness to clean up paint/goo/flour. I feel a certain amount of pressure to keep up with the childcare-attending Mini Joneses which is why, if you follow me on Pinterest, you'll have seen a lot of toddler activities being pinned recently; searching for arty inspiration seems to have replaced Twitter as my go-to social media skive.

One idea which comes up time and time again is tissue paper suncatchers - it looked like an easy, splodge-free and super effective project so we gave it a try. Here's how to do the same:

Tissue paper suncatcher DIY for toddlers

You will need:
Lots of tissue paper.
A sheet of card.
Contact paper (that's "transparent sticky back plastic" to anyone of my generation).

Easy toddler art: tissue paper suncatcher

Parents:

Cut or tear the tissue paper into little pieces (older toddlers will be able to help with this).

Cut a shape in the card - your toddler is unlikely to care how recognisable the shape is, however I opted for a flower (which looks a bit more butterflyesque, I think).

Cover one side of the card with the contact paper - your shape will now have a sticky surface.

Toddler:

Heap bits of tissue paper onto the sticky surface. Press them down. Attempt to peel them off a few times. Be encouraged to move some of the bits of tissue paper onto the bare areas. Do so, then return to building your tissue paper mountain right in the middle. Knock it over several times. Rebuild. Keep doing this until your attention wanders. Wander off.

Parent:

Shake off lots of loose bits of tissue paper. Use strips of contact paper to stick the suncatcher to a window (again - older toddlers could help with this). Encourage toddler to come and admire their work.

So simple... but isn't the finished product gorgeous?

Tissue paper suncatcher made by 15 month old toddler

Extra: Ordinary Moments

Extra: Ordinary Moments

I took Matilda to get new shoes this week. We (read: "I") made the mistake of going to a shoe shop with the kids' section downstairs and no lift access. Never mind. Buggy and worldly belongings abandoned behind the upstairs till, we headed into the pink-blue-black basement and joined the (last-day-before-school-starts-gaaaah-silly-me) queue; the displays were not nearly as neat when we left as when we arrived.

As ever, I let Matilda choose her own shoes. We went home with the brightest pink Mary Janes covered in slightly paler pink flowers. We also nipped into another store where she chose lurid pink wellies. There will be no mistaking her for a boy for a while.

I can't fault her: pink is a much more appealing colour than black and navy blue (as much as Steve might argue this point); I just wish it wasn't so tied up in gender stereotypes.

* * *

She wasn't the only one getting treats this week. I bought myself a plant called a platycodon astra because its huge white flowers were so ridiculously cartoonish I couldn't resist (yes, I've turned into someone who impulse buys pot plants). According to the internet, platycodon astras are better known as "balloon flower plants"; I hadn't heard of them before, so I'll take the internet's word for it.

The name is perfect, anyway. The buds really do swell and rise like hot air balloons. I now want them all over the garden; all summer, our flowerbeds would look like a balloon festival, with white, pink and blue flowers puffing up all across them.

In the mean time, I have just the one balloon flower plant sitting on the mantelpiece, making me smile. There are lots of other new plants in the garden, though, but I'll tell you about them another day.

* * *

On Wednesday, Karen brought her family to visit. I had forgotten how tiny and delicate-looking newborn babies are; I don't remember Matilda ever being as small and scrunchy as Willow but the photos prove she was.

Matilda and Sorsha spent most of the visit emptying toys onto the floor and, four days on, I've still got no idea where they hid the top of the orange Hide 'n' Squeak egg (and it's starting to really bother me).

* * *

Speaking of infants: Matilda turns sixteen months old today and I've already bought her a second birthday present. For £5 in a supermarket sale.

Obviously, I can't tell you what it is in case she somehow learns to read and navigate the internet in the next eight months, finds this blog post and ruins the surprise. Not that I worried about picking it off the shelf in front of her, leaving it lying on my bed for an hour while we played "Where's Daddy's deodorant bottle?" (under the duvet, always) or shoving it into my wardrobe while she watched. I'm making the most of this period when she has no concept of gifts.

* * *

There has been some gorgeous weather this week. We've paddled in the river and drawn on the garden path with chalk; we've stamp-stamp-stampety-stamped around the garden and we've hung out in the park; we've been to a gala where we banged drums and stroked two different owls (squeeeee!). I even froze some nasturtiums in ice and felt like a proper Pinterest Mom (yes, with an O), although Matilda was less impressed.

* * *

And there has been some wet, windy, cold, autumnal weather, too. Matilda has been pale and snotty (which I blame on teething) and I've been pale and headachey (which I blame on tiredness which I blame on teething), so there have been a couple of days spent holed up indoors watching TV (how I love Nelly and Nora), doodling and searching for the top of the orange Hide 'n' Squeak egg.

* * *

What have you been up to?

P.S. Polly just fished the top of the orange Hide 'n' Squeak egg out from under the sofa. Where I had looked at least twenty-seven times. Gah.

Spending the Summer With A Toddler

Enjoying the summer with a one year old

This week, in my part of the world, the summer holidays are officially over. Schools and nurseries are back in session; baby and toddler groups are up and running from Monday.

Matilda and I (by which I mean: "I") are planning to try out several new groups. I'm hoping to find a handful which we can walk to, afford and don't have to block book, which fit around Matilda's current (increasingly early) naps and our friends' more hectic schedules, and - most importantly - which we both actually enjoy attending.

But I haven't felt in a rush for the groups to start up again.

Last summer was a little different. Last summer, Matilda was tiny and I was still feeling fairly overwhelmed; having something planned for every single day helped me to cope - it gave me an opportunity for adult conversation and the reassurance that my baby was receiving some sort of stimulation. All those long, empty weeks without groups to go to were daunting.

But this summer I haven't felt that anxiety. Maybe for a few minutes on a Sunday evening, at the thought of Steve going back to work, but over all: no, I've been relaxed.

It's a lovely stage we're at. Matilda would be happy to spend every morning and every afternoon at the park; she can be easily entertained in the garden (especially now we have a fully functional slide); and she will potter around indoors by herself if I need some time to decompress. She's happy because she can choose which toy to play with or which book to read; she sometimes opts to play on her own. I don't even feel guilty about letting her watch TV these days because I know some of her enormous vocabulary can be credited to CBeebies; her tastes are for mellow, calming shows (also, sadly, any of Justin Fletcher's vaguely offensive output) and she wanders away when anything else comes on.

So, home life is pretty easy.

And this summer I've been really aware of what a fortunate position I'm in.

I don't go out to work. I have only the vaguest idea of the day and the date at any given time. I feel a need to fill our days with as little pressure and structure and timetabling as I can get away with.

I'm lucky. Matilda and I have had a summer. A proper summer (despite the weather).

I mean a proper summer like I had when I was a kid: long, aimless days outdoors. Occasional visits from grandparents. Picking wild berries. Putting our feet up and reading books. Running around the garden.

Relaxing.

I don't feel an urge to cram Matilda's days with as many experiences as possible. She has no concept of history yet so castles and museums mean nothing to her. One park and one ornamental garden and one patch of woodland looks the same as another to her so we stick to the ones in our neighbourhood. She doesn't need expensive trips to entertainment parks; her demands are not that high.

There is plenty of time in the future to introduce her to Big New Things. Right now, she's concentrating on the little ones. Playing with the same 300 Mega Bloks over and over and over again until she's mastered piling them up in ways which don't fall over; reading the same books over and over and over again until she can speak along with them, word perfect; clambering around the same play park over and over and over again until she can get to the top of the climbing frame without any help.

She is all about repetition. It's how she learns. Trying and trying and trying again. And that has made this summer slow and easy and relaxed and lovely, pottering around at home.

What I've Been Reading Recently

What I've Been Reading Recently

30-Something and the Clock is Ticking: What Happens When You Can No Longer Ignore the Baby Issue by Kasey Edwards
By chance, Kasey found out that she had a year before full infertility kicked in; having not been with her boyfriend long and having always had a very "meh" attitude towards motherhood, she really wasn't sure how to feel. So she did some research. A lot of research, actually. And what she found wasn't promising: apparently motherhood is bad for women's mental health, careers, finances, self image and relationships and a lot of women secretly regret it. Nevertheless, she and her partner decided to have a baby, so the second half of the book is given over to trying to conceive, vomiting through an unpleasant pregnancy and getting her head round the early months of motherhood. I had read and enjoyed Kasey's previous book (30-Something and Over It: What Happens When You Wake Up and Don't Want to Go to Work... Ever Again) so I knew I would like her witty but informative style. I wasn't disappointed. We had completely different experiences of medical care and were given very different information, but I recognised the journey from meh to Mummy and loved reading her angry take on the sexist attitudes all parents seem to encounter.

Paddle Your Own Canoe: One Man's Fundamentals for Delicious Living by Nick Offerman
Nick Offerman writes here about his journey from farm boy to Ron Swanson, taking in his years of Chicago theatre, his marriage to Megan Mullally and his successful woodworking business. This is part-autobiography and part-advice (switch off your screens; work hard at your hobbies; fall in love) and I wanted to love it. I found it an odd, disjointed read, though. He writes in the florid, rambling style of a massive stoner, piling praise onto everyone he mentions (himself included). So... it was interesting but not engrossing. To me, anyway. Steve enjoyed it a lot more than I did.

Navigating Life by Margaux Bergen*
This was supposedly written as a guide to life for the author's daughter but it read, to me, more like an attempt to impress swarms of anonymous readers. I'm an anonymous reader and I was not impressed. Yes, Bergen has worked hard and attended lots of dinner parties, but the book was too heavy on bragging about these things and too light on encouraging her daughter to make her own choices. From Bergen's angry response to her daughter's supposedly confrontational first words onwards, there was no evidence of empathy or understanding between the two women, and I couldn't imagine her daughter finding this book to be anything but patronisingly embarrassing. I sincerely hope that I'm wrong.

To Be Continued by James Robertson*
I hugely enjoyed this. It's a madcap romp across Scotland (I know - what a cliched phrase! I can't think how else to get across its madcap rompiness, though), as a fifty year old former sub-editor attempts to visit and interview a ninety-nine year old former MP living on what remains of her family's Highland estate. There's bootleg whisky, a couple of (possible) doppelgangers and a talking toad thrown into the mix. It's gleefully ridiculous and gorgeously Scottish in the vein of films like The 39 Steps and Whisky! Galore. I loved it.

Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng
In the 1970s, teenage Lydia drowns in a lake. Her family - Chinese-American academic father; frustrated housewife mother; clever brother; overlooked sister - all process her death in their own ways, whilst remembering Lydia's role in their lives... and their role in hers. This is a story of intense love and suffocating ambition, sibling jealousy and misunderstood alliances. It's beautifully written and painfully believable - in fact, the only bit which didn't ring entirely true to me was the explanation of Lydia's death but, oddly, that felt like a minor detail.

*Provided for review

Extra: Ordinary Moments

Elise from Elise and Life and Sarah from Sarah Rooftops
(photo courtesy of Elise)

The definite high point of this week was a 100 minute visit from Elise.

It's ages since we last spent a day wandering around a strange town, taking photos, poking in gift shops and drinking booze; this time, we had a rushed lunch in the M&S cafe then watched Matilda play on a climbing frame. Motherhood glam.

We did manage to squeeze in one token blogger cliche: we ate Krispy Kremes. They were nice enough doughnuts and all, but we weren't sure they quite lived up to the hype. Still, at least Matilda was too distracted by the slide to notice that we weren't sharing our sugar.

* * *

It's been miserable weather this week so - obviously - I ordered myself a pair of sandals. For the last five years, every time there was a glorious day I wished I had a pair of sandals; I've thought about buying some; sometimes I've even prodded disappointedly at all the brown suede shoes in Clarks; but, ultimately, I've always decided that it wasn't worth spending money I couldn't really spare on shoes I would wear once a year.

Now that I'm never stuck in an office on hot days, I feel like I can justify buying sandals. Although only because they were £28 in the sale.

I'm a blogger so obviously they're Salt-Waters. I've been on Instagram enough this summer to know that Salt-Waters guarantee sunshine, exotically flavoured ice cream and rose bushes in the garden which look glorious instead of like the Wicker Man with a flower plonked on top. So fingers crossed they fit.

* * *

Matilda's one summer group ended this week. She got a little certificate congratulating her on showing up; I made the mistake of showing it to her, though, so she now has a scrunched up piece of paper.

We also visited the PlayTalkRead bus which she enjoyed until people started singing (she was presumably objecting to it being the sexist version of The Wheels on the Bus) ("No. Buggy. Go. Buggy.") and we went to a special messy play session.

* * *

In other news, I'm not going to say enough about the new neighbours to justify a blog post. Because they haven't given me permission to talk about them (and probably don't know my blog my exists). But suffice to say: there are two babies downstairs and the only noise we hear is grown ups going "Bobbidybobbidybobbidybobbidyboobooboobooboo". We're probably the noisy neighbours in this scenario with our shrieking toddler thundering from room to room and pretending to be a kangaroo (thanks to our pal, Bruce, for teaching her that trick).

 * * *

I'm feeding some friends' cat this weekend while they're off doing whatever it was that they told me about when they asked (drinking more alcohol than me, certainly).

Yesterday evening was the easiest ever stint of cat-sitting duty when I turned up at their flat to find them still in it. They were several hours late in leaving because one of them got trapped hunting Pokemon. So, instead of having to deal with stinky cat food, I got a nice cup of tea, had a bit of a chat and was even given a lift home afterwards.

This morning they weren't there. I was a little disappointed.

* * *

The rest of my weekend is all about pottering. Steve and Matilda had an accidental (don't ask; it involves messy naps) Daddy-daughter day at the beach yesterday and today they're off on an adventure with Steve's parents (whose snazzy campervan only seats four), so I'm getting to spend a whole weekend reading, gardening and ticking things off the To Do list. It's rather lovely, even if I do feel like there's something very important missing and have to press all the buttons on the washing machine myself.

* * *

What have you been up to this week?

Not Another Sleep Regression

Dealing With the 18 Month Sleep Regression

Matilda's sleep is going through another messy spell.

I suspect it's the dreaded "18 month" sleep regression come early. She's fifteen months old, but she's been through all of the other regressions at the earliest possible time; they always tie into Wonder Weeks and - although she's still her usual cheerful self - she's clearly going through the last one now. 

Her sleep patterns are in the same sort of mess as with previous sleep regressions: there are days when she doesn't nap, seems fine until dinnertime, has a meltdown when we put her in her pyjamas, then sleeps through the night; there are days when she's clearly exhausted but fights against naps; there are nights when she's waking up every couple of hours. 

Unlike previous regressions, she does sometimes realise that she's getting tired through the day and will demand to be taken out in her buggy - she knows it's the one place she's likely to drift off. This should make dealing with things easier but I'm knackered and don't really want to be pushing a heavy buggy around our hilly neighbourhood for forty minutes until she passes out.

Unlike previous regressions, when she wakes at night we can't just tuck her in and leave the room to the sound of steady breathing; she's finding it difficult to switch back off, snapping awake again if we leave the room, often needing us to lie in bed beside her for up to an hour until she relaxes (I am so, so, so glad we opted for a floor bed - I couldn't bear to be bent over a cot every night!).

Until Sunday night, I was feeling very calm about the whole thing. I felt like a proper earth mother, cherishing the middle of the night snuggles, taking the unpredictable naps in my stride, welcoming the extra fresh air as I pushed her round and round and round the block. I've said before that Steve and I are in the "do whatever you need to do to survive a sleep regression; deal with the bad habits when it passes" camp; we still are, 100%, but...

...Sunday night was one broken sleep too far. I was in with her from 12; at 1:30 I was sobbing so much it woke Steve and he took over; at 3:00 I put down my phone, stopped googling variations of "15 month old won't sleep ever regression hell can't cope" and passed out; at 5:30, I was up with her again; she finally conked out at 6:30 which was when I had to get up. On Monday, there was a [thankfully rare] meltdown before she would nap.

It's all become such a tired blur now that I'm not sure how long this has been going on for. I think two weeks but it might just be the one (oh: no, it couldn't) or it could be the twenty-seven it currently feels like. I've no idea how much more there is to come.

I'm not really going anywhere with this post. It just needed to be written, as though by putting my thoughts into some sort of order in a blog post I can put my toddler's sleep patterns into some sort of order, too. I'll let you know if that works...

Anybody else's toddler messing with their body clock, too?

Extra: Ordinary Moments

Toddler running up hill

A couple of days ago, Matilda let my phone run the software update I'd been ignoring for weeks.

I should know better than to let Matilda near my phone when it's not in Kids Mode; almost a year ago now, she managed to install a pedometer which I can't for the life of me switch off and which keeps patronising me with congratulatory gold stars (you clock a lot of steps when your toddler finds her feet).

Anyway, this software update allowed all of my apps to mess themselves up. Twitter's all out of sequence. Instagram has some terrifying video function. The icon for the camera is an irritatingly different shape to all the others. I feel like such a cliche, frowning and tutting at technology I can't fathom but I liked my apps the way they were and don't like the pressure to prove that I'm young and hip by embracing snazzy new functions.

To make me feel even more like an old lady, the font on my text messages is suddenly twice the size it used to be.

* * *

There are wild raspberries all over our neighbourhood at the moment. "Raspberries" is Matilda's one clear, three syllable word (though she's working on "cardigan" and "cockadoodle") and it got screeched A LOT during the half hour she spent shovelling fruit off the bush and into her mouth; what a revelation that food is just there for the taking, with no child gate or drawer lock in the way.

* * *

We also went for a parent-daughter cake/bag of Kiddylicious healthy foamy things date at Pret-a-Manger.

We used to go for lunch together a lot when she was little. Then she started climbing out of high chairs (I honestly don't know what the straps on coffee shop high chairs are for - they don't contain the child) and I'd be lucky to get my hot chocolate gulped down at all, never mind serenely, whilst smilingly lovingly at my cooing daughter. So it was wonderful to be able to sit in a cafe together again.

I even let her have a taste of my bakewell tart but she spat it back out in disgust.

And she had her second babyccino. The first was not a success but this time she loved it; she looked so pleased with herself, sipping foamy milk from a miniature white mug.

Afterwards, I stacked up the plates, soggy tissues and masticated bakewell tart lumps at one side of the tray and arranged our big frothy mug and little frothy mug next to each other at the other side, carefully placed so the pattern of milky circles showed all around them.

The plan was to strap Matilda into her buggy then quickly snap a picture to commemorate the event. Pret-a-Manger staff are apparently too efficient for arty Instagramming, though; the mugs were whisked away before I'd even unclipped the pointless high chair strap.

* * *

I decided to surprise Steve by getting a plumber round to do some work. Gone are the days when romance meant secretly purchasing Derren Brown tickets and taking him for a meal before the show; now, it's all about towel rails, plastic drainpipes and kitchen taps which don't drip.

In my defense: he gave a genuine squeal of delight when he spotted the towel rail.

We're not slipping into vacuum-cleaners-as-Christmas-presents territory, though. There will always be novelty slippers, marzipan and emergency purchases from each other's online wishlists before we resort to white goods. I might not understand why Twitter has a "search for GIFs" function now but there would be a forced smile on my face if I tore shiny wrapping paper off a handheld steam cleaner.

* * *

Otherwise, life recently has been the usual stream of park trips and... uh... park trips. This week has felt like both the height of summer and the depths of winter but we've made the most of the sun when it's been out and the puddles when it hasn't.

What have you been up?

This Little Big Life: Snippets

Toddler Books
Matilda and me
Mr Potato Head
Matilda's hand


This Little Big Life is run by Louise from Squished Blueberries and me as a way to celebrate the small moments which make life BIG, with a focus on the weekend/days off.

There's this weekly linky but there's also now an Instagram account (@thislittlebiglife). Please do get tagging your little moments with the hashtag #thislittlebiglife; we both bumble along, fitting this in around parenting, but we do try to keep up with everybody's photos and we'll be sharing some of them, too.

What did you get up to at the weekend? If you've blogged about it, please do link up below; I'd love if you could also tweet about the linky using the hashtag #ThisLittleBigLife and copying in me (@sarahrooftops) and Louise (@blueberriesblog).


Did That Lump of Plastic Just Bully My Child?

This plastic toy was mean to my toddler

Matilda (and Steve and I, being the wielders of the debit cards) is very lucky: she gets a lot of hand-me-down toys from her cousins. Most of the time, they are great toys which the boys have genuinely outgrown (recent highlights include two Potato Heads and a Tombliboo); sometimes, they're noisy lumps of plastic which I suspect my sister simply can't stand to have in her house any more.

One of those noisy lumps of plastic is a Thomas train.

It looked harmless enough: a blue train with a smile on its face. When I was little, the tank engine and his friends were models of ambling amiability; I assumed that not much had changed.

But what an attitude it has.

I don't know if the speaker is faulty (perhaps my sister tried to drown it before sending it to Aberdeen?) but, when you press the button, it emits a gravelly, hissing, clunking noise like the engines of an underground city in a particularly dystopian TV show. Then it starts to bark its dogma at you:

"Blue is the only colour for the most hard-working engine."
"Number one always comes first."
"Wake up, lazy bones! Why don't you work as hard as me?" (asked in an accusatory rather than an encouraging tone)

Things turn a bit sinister after that: "I cleared my own landslide!" I assume the train engineered said landslide to smother a few red-wearing, lazy number fours.

Matilda got her hands on this train before I'd realised what an aggressively competitive toy it was. She stood, eyes fixed on - as far as I could tell - nothing, mindlessly pushing the train's button over and over and over again as it recited its doctrine. I could almost see the snarling ideas implanting in her brain. Number one does always come first. Blue is the colour of winners (throw out those yellow shoes immediately, Mummy!). I am a no-good, useless lazy bones; why don't I work as hard as this smug piece of plastic?

I used to think Matilda's other noisy toys were irritating with their pleas for cuddles and plans to "sing in the sea" (surely a bad idea for a battery-operated spinning top?), but at least none of them has ever told her she's a slacker if she dresses in red or orange or pink.

She already has enough six year old boys yelling at her that she's "not allowed" to climb the wrong way up the slide at the play park; she doesn't need her toys barking rules at her, too.

I don't know where this train gets off, dictating her chances of success and failure in life, but I'm getting off the Thomas train now - into the charity shop bag it goes.

My Family Ate Insects (Review Post)

Review: Thaikun Aberdeen. Interior decor.

Last weekend, one very wriggly toddler, her father and I headed to Union Square to try out the food - in particular, the new kids' menu - at Thaikun.

Steve had been keen to visit Thaikun for ages - he had heard really good things about it and he's a big fan of Thai cookery. As a vegetarian who doesn't like tofu, I was more hesitant. So, how did I get on...?

Review: Thaikun Aberdeen.
Review: Thaikun Aberdeen. Menu.

Thaikun's menu is enormous. There is something for everyone there but, if (like me) you're fussy, it could take you a while to find it; if (like Steve) you're completely unfussy, it could take a while to narrow down your options.

Luckily, our waiter, Keith, asked if we would like him to help us choose; he asked what sorts of things we each liked and made recommendations based on our personal preferences. Both Steve and I ended up opting for the dishes he suggested.

Review: Thaikun Aberdeen.
Review: Thaikun Aberdeen. Pad Thai.

I had pad thai with vegetables in place of tofu (pictured above) and it was delicious.

Steve had chilli garlic prawns and chicken skewers with coconut rice (pictured below) and tells me it was all very good - he particularly liked the rice.

Review: Thaikun Aberdeen. Whatever Steve ate.
Review: Thaikun Aberdeen. Children's menu.

But what we were really interested in was the new children's menu. It takes a mix and match approach, allowing children (or, in the case of kids as young as Matilda, their parents) to create the perfect meal for them.

Matilda had jasmine rice, chicken, vegetables and... uh... some sort of sauce (sweet barbecue, maybe?). It was a huge meal - big enough for a hungry teenager - but she grazed it happily for almost two hours and most of it ended up in her mouth instead of on the floor.

All of the kids' meals also come with a tub of edible insects. And this is what you really want to hear about, isn't it?

Review: Thaikun Aberdeen. Edible Insects.

I've got to be honest: neither Steve nor I could see anything appealing in that tub! Matilda, on the other hand, scoffed them by the handful.

She did also eat the lemon out of her cup of water, mind you...

Review: Thaikun Aberdeen.

Steve also braved the insects. He said they had a surprising lack of flavour and kind of popped in his mouth; he wouldn't order them again, but didn't find them inedible! This is his "I'm eating bugs" face:

Review: Thaikun Aberdeen. Eating insects.
Review: Thaikun Aberdeen.

Of course, for me, the high point of any meal is the dessert. And how about this for a dessert menu?

Review: Thaikun Aberdeen. Dessert menu.

I'd come back just for the ice cream! I actually had banana fritters (yum!) and Steve had the thai waffles because he was so intrigued by green tea ice cream (pictured below).

Review: Thaikun Aberdeen. Matcha ice cream.

Matilda had her first ever ice cream: strawberry ripple. She ate several spoonfuls but didn't seem to rate it as highly as the bugs! By that point, the excitement was getting a bit much for her, though - she crashed out in the buggy home, an hour and a half before her usual bedtime!

So: Thaikun kids' menu? Got the thumbs up from our daughter AND seems to send our child to sleep.

Review: Thaikun Aberdeen.

*Our meals were provided in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are our own.