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!