A few of my favourite things

But mummy, can you say yes if I say TV?

Soooo, in theory we like to restrict television time. Sadly the reality is that Boy watches rather more than I'm comfortable with. He has declared it his most favourite thing in the whole world.

But on the plus side, I'm his most favourite lady in the whole world. 

It seems, though, the more TV he watches, the more his whining for it intensifies. And if I say no, he asks his dad, his grandparents, his uncle, his sister even - "But mummy, Justababy said I could watch tv".

He used to take a fairly strategic (for a 3 year old) approach:

What can I do...?
You can go and play.
No! I can't play.... Can I watch tv?
No, not now.
So.... I can watch TV?
...No, not today I said.
Mummy... Can I watch TV on the 'puter?
No, not today. Ok?
Umm...yes.... I think I can watch TV after we go to the shops. Are we going to the shops now mummy?
 Now he's going for the sledgehammer approach:

Mummy, can I watch TV? Mummy, can I watch TV? Mummy, can I watch TV? Mummy, can I watch TV? Mummy, can I watch TV? Mummy, can I watch TV?

Excuses, excuses

Mummy! My porridge is too batty. There's a bat in my porridge

I told him to eat it quick, before it flew away.

Me: Time to use the potty.
Boy: No I can't. A shark bit my penis off.
Me: Wha...?
Boy: Yeah.... Oh, no, sorry, it was a whale.

I don't know where he gets these funny ideas from.

Sharpest tool in the box

Mummy, you can use my tools, but only when I there. You have to be careful though, because some of them are sharp.

The Boy just loves his tools. And he's dead keen on Bunnings*. Bunnings is Daddy's fallback position - any time Boy is difficult or Daddy needs a break (or rather, Mummy needs a break and Daddy's not sure what else to do) they head off to pick up some "bits and pieces". Sometimes Boy insists we need to go the Bunnings at other times - I just need to pick up a couple of things from Bunnings Mummy - but it's not really my thing.
On a recent little trip there Boy came back with his latest tool (it's funny how often Daddy comes back with nothing) - little plastic steps.
Brilliant!
Now Boy can reach up all the really high places.
Didn't think that through, sorry, says Daddy.
Look. I am standing up here and fixing the wall, says Boy. Then he drags his steps over to the sliding glass door and climbs up.
Look! Look out there! There are hyenas in the distance!
Uh huh, hmmm. [Mummy and Daddy are trying to have a conversation about appropriate toys for 3 year olds.]

Don’t just stand there looking miserable and not talking to me about the hyena!

* Daddy would prefer he didn't know the name and insists on calling it the tool shop. Boy doesn't miss much though.

Playing possum

I'm making a possum! I'm sretching it out to make its tail.

Rumaging through the kitchen cabinet Boy found one of those brillo steel-wire-thingos and decided it would, naturally, make a good pet.

It's now safely nestled in its cage. It's name is Raison (or something like that).
(Yes, I know he's wearing odd shoes. He likes it that way. Remarkably, only one of them is on the wrong foot - he must not have been paying close enough attention. I'm really happy to say his other clothes are on the right way round today.)

A dog! A dog! My baby for a dog!

Boy: Why do you have a baby?
Daddy: Well, we wanted to have more children.
Boy: Uuummmm, no, Granma said other words for this.
Daddy: What did Granma say?
Boy: Granma said you had a baby because you didn't want any dogs

This is the sort of answer you're likely to get from your grandmother if you ask far too many silly questions...
And this is the sort of 'logic' you get from a 3 year old...

'Mum, you don't want a baby anymore so you can get a dog.'

For the record: I never said that. And I still don't want a dog.

You've come a long way kid

No mummy, go away! I don't want you!

It sounds bad, yeah? But this marks real progress (not so much in his manners, but we're working on that). This is now Boy when he's ready to go to sleep. What a long way we've come from hours of feeding, rocking and singing (and a fair bit of pleading) that it used to take. Now the Boy dismisses us and 'sefl settles' - yes, that beacon of Good Parenting we all aspire to.
Now, when he needs to go to the toilet he still tells me, but then when I get up to help he says, hand out to make me 'stay': No mummy, you stay here. No mummy don't follow me! He wants to do stuff for himself. And it's lovely when he comes rushing back, his pants askew, to announce he's not only gone to the toilet by himself, he also wiped his own bottom. (Great! I say, as I prepare some wet cloths and clean underwear.)
Hell, the other day he even made a cup of tea for his grandmother.

I made a cup of tea for granma all on my own.

...........

It just had a lot of dirt and froth in it, so she just pretended to drink it.

The froth was imaginary, but the dirt was actually old coffee grounds, so he's getting close.

Facts of life

Boy: Only I and daddy work. Only I and daddy. Because we have penises. Only the ones with penises can work. Not you Mummy.
Me: [Aghast] Who told you that?
Aric: I told me.... I told you!

So there you have it!

You can face anything with a towel

'Yes, I'm pushing Nut [beloved toy] in my trolley. Awww, he likes that. He will need some milk soon.
'Cos he took a long time to be born.
Now I will give you some milk. Come on, just drink the milk. Come on baby.
There. Now he's had enough.
Oh baby, you got milk all over me. Mum I need a towel.'

Together, mummy and Justababy have prepared Boy for the hard task of parenting.
He has taken to his role as big brother quite well, finding a niche for himself in the provision of amusing distractions and background noise. Sometimes he's called upon to talk to Justababy when mummy's busy. It helps when she's upset, because she finds absolutely everything about him hilarious.

'Mummy's going to put me in the oven and cook me and eat me all up. Then there will be no Boy to play with the baby'

And he's learning to share... the toys he doesn't really want. It is a hard lesson to master and he's been working on it since before Justababy was born.

'Me want to get in there.

...........

No! There IS room for me and the baby in there.'

Breastfeeding basics

After Justababy was born, Boy really, really wanted to help feed her.
We have finally managed to convice Boy that his boobies don't make milk. So now he wants me to put milk into them.... that's what breastpumps are for, you know?

Story time: A duck amongst the carrots

Just a little mealtime ditty

Two little carrots went out a day. Over the highchair too far away. One little carrot said "Rug rug rug rug" and four little carrots came back.

One little duck went out a day, over to a field too far away. One little duck ate the carrots...

Parenting win-ish

’Good job mummy. Well done!'

It’s nice to get some validation.
We know our parenting tactics are working when things get easier, the kids start doing things the way we’d like without us asking quite so many times. Sometimes they start echoing our language. Instead of saying Boy is a good boy because he’s done something that conveniences us, or that he’s done a good job putting that block in a box, we say thank you if he does something for us, and note his helpfulness.
‘Cos that’s totally different.
He is picking this up. We can not only hear it when he screams ‘I DON’T WANT TO BE HELPFUL!!’, but also when he talks to his sister sometimes:

Boy: We home now. I will read you Thomas the Tank Engine, but you have to be helpful.
Justababy: [cries]
Boy: No. That's not helpful

It is a bit much, really, telling a kid he’s done a good job putting his shoes on, or whatever. It’s hardly rocket science. The Boy gets this, I think. He has a wicked sense of humour.

Boy: What are houses made of?
Daddy: [sigh] Jelly.
Boy: [pauses to consider] Yes, that’s right! Well done daddy.

Alan! Alan! Alan!

'I'm making a baby. Mummy, where is my screwdriver?'

Ah! The simple mechanics of conception! When I was pregnant with Justababy - 'No, she's not a girl. She's just a baby!' - the Boy gave birth to his toys many times. Then one day he presented me with his latest addition - an allen key in a little plastic baggie.
Oh, how he lovingly cared for that allen key. He fed it milk from his boobies and put it to bed.
Then one day, he whipped it out of its baggie and declared: 'Now it's a sword. I'm gonna go chop down some trees.'

Sniff.

Parenting fail-ish

'Me a 'asol.'

Oh dear.

You're a what, dear...?

He tries harder, and I hear just the faintest suggestion of an R...

'Me a [wr]asal.'

Oh, bless him, yes he is a rascal.

'Me a widdle bugga'

In my defence, he really is a bit of a bugger sometimes.

'Me say shuck shake like daddy.'

You see he clearly fingers his father. Nothing on me.

'Come on mummy, stop bucking me. You bucking me mummy.'

.... I'm not sure about this one. If it is what I think it is... he didn't get it from me.

Terms of endearment

'You're not clumsy daddy, you're just big and heavy'

That's practically a compliment.

'Move your big, heavy bottom please mummy'

At least he said please

'Let's laugh at daddy. He's being silly'

Fair cop

'Your hair looks like a lion mummy'

He may have a point

'There's a big froggie in the bed. Frog wants to sit on the log.
[ooof]
Mummy is a log. '

I wish I were a log sometimes

'No. Mummy not a man. Her haven't got a beard'

Oh. Isn't that sweet?

'I like mummy. My favourite lady in the whooooole world'

Naaawww

Harro

I'm compiling some of the wonderful thing my boy says in a blog. Because the world needs another blog. Especially this one.

As he said, when first figuring out how grownups answer the phone:

'Harro. This is Boy. Watchoo doing?'