All posts tagged: #toddlerdrama

I heart laundry

“Wow, I see you did some painting at kindy today!” “Yes Mummy. The teachers asked if I wanted to wear an apron, but I said ‘no thank you. It’s ok, Mummy can just wash my clothes. She really loves doing the washing.’” I need to demonstrate to my daughter that I have hobbies above and beyond laundry.

Give up

Supportive parenting advice from the toddler as I tried (and failed) to “shhhhh” and pat the baby to sleep in her own bed this afternoon: “Oh mummy, just give up and give her a boob until she falls asleep, or put her in the front-pack!” It’s a sad day when even your two year old sees fit to point out your parental failings.

Banjo & Hank

So Amy tells me that soon I’ll be going back to hospital to have not one, but two baby girls. Apparently they’ll be called Banjo and Hank. I really hope she’s not displaying some kind of psychic ability…because a girl called ‘Hank’ isn’t going to make it through high school without collecting some serious emotional baggage (‘Banjo’, however, will be totally fine and probably end up fronting a wildly successful indie band).

Love logic

Amy: “ I love you, Mummy. Do you know why I love you?” Me: *imagining a lovely little response about how I give her cuddles, or read stories, or something* “Why’s that, sweetheart?” Amy: “Because you’re not an idiot.” Oooookaaaaaaay.

Superstition

I never really put much stock into superstition…until now. Last night the baby slept for many, MANY hours in a row, resulting in me managing to keep my shit together all day today, even while chasing the cat around in the shower trying to hose dog poo off him (you’ve not witnessed an expression that better encompasses rage, shame and fear until you’ve seen a soggy Siamese), as the newly-awoken baby yelled from her cot and the toddler stood with her nose pressed against the outside of the shower door demanding a jellybean for using the potty. I may have even managed a sort of rueful “ah, kids and animals! Whaddaya gonna do?” smile. So you can bet your ass I’m trying to follow the exact same steps as last night to tempt back whatever sleeping sorcery visited our home.

Learner driver

Amy: “So, will I drive your car or Daddy’s car when I go to kindy?” Me: “I’ll drive you to kindy! You’re too little to drive.” Amy: “but you said I’m a big girl! And I don’t know how to drive, but that’s ok, I’ll just brrrmmm it to kindy, and you’ll call Daddy and say ‘OHMYGOD! Amy is driving the car!’” I just really didn’t imagine having the “mum, can I borrow your car?” conversation at this stage

Soup of the day

Mid-shower this morning, an officious-looking Amy appears at the glass door. “Mummy, I need a spoon” “Uh, Amy, I’m in the shower” *blank stare and blink* “You can get yourself a spoon” “I can’t, mummy, I’m frightened of the lawnmower.” “Amy, there’s no lawnmower, you’ll be fine.” “Mummy, you HAVE to get it, cos….I’m frightened of a dog.” “Amy, there’s no dog here. Why do you want a spoon, anyway?” “I made a bowl of bum-bum soup and need to feed it to Tilly.” *me leaping from the shower to inspect contents of proffered bowl, whilst imagining the worst possible scenario for the “soup” ingredients, and fearing some sort of new low in sibling-jealousy-defense tactics. Palpable relief upon realising the soup was imaginary.* “Good. You finished your shower, so can you get me a spoon?”

Italian genes run deep with my toddler # 267:

“Mummy! You got blue sunscreen on the WHITE carpet! Daddy is going to be SO sad. He’s…he’s…he’s gonna CRY, and then he’s going to put you in the RUBBISH BIN! And there’ll be NO MORE MUMMY!” If someone could swing by our place with some of that spray the CSI lads use at murder scences for a cursory check before bin night, that’d be great. (Monday night – it’s just too risky taking it out on Tuesday morning in case the rubbish collection guy comes early, although it is pretty funny watching Jeremy do the house-to-curb-wheelie-bin-sprint in his undies when he forgets).