Bedtime

Everyone knows that kids hate going to bed. That they'll think of every last possible excuse:

I need a wee wee / poo poo / drink / the light's not on enough / the light's too bright / I haven't got my covers on / I'm cold / Ive lost my noo noo/big bear/Richard bear...

So you go up and down like a bleedin' yo yo

No you do NOT need a wee wee you've only just had one

There's a glass of water by your bed

Right, if you don't settle down I'll shut the door

Right, THAT'S IT, if you don't settle down I'll shut the door AND the gate.

Until finally, all is quiet.

Only, when you go up to bed later,  he's gone back to bed alright, and he's fast asleep...

...having closed his own door and shut the gate himself.

Sunshine Duke 1
Mummy 0

This is how my week is going

Exhibit A.

My new mug. Next to an ordinary size mug.

Exhibit B.
New mug filled with what we like to call around here "Mummy's Go-Go Juice" (aka Coffee)

The Reason

My son has decided, once again, that sleeping through the night is just not for him. And why would he? It's way more fun waking mummy and daddy up four times a night. And at 5 am, can you think of anything more fun than standing outside mummy and daddy's bedroom, with a jumper over your head, pretending to be Darth Vader? And when mummy stumbles out and demands to know what you're doing you say "I'm hiding." I don't know about you, but I can think of a million things I'd rather do at 5 in the morning than play hide and seek with a two year old.

But that's not the half of it. Not content with getting us out of bed by calling out for us, he, on the odd occasion, then has a night terror. Every witnessed one of these? They're bloody terrifying. There he is, screaming his head off, throwing himself around the bed, repeating mummy mummy mummy over and over, yet if you go anywhere near him, touch him, try to reason with him, the terror escalates a notch. So you're left placing pillows all around his bed in case he falls out, and standing very still and very quiet, waiting, praying for it to pass, and thinking that if this goes on any longer you might have to call an ambulance, or something.... After about thirty minutes, he falls asleep where he is (on the floor, last time), into a deep and unquiet sleep, while you remains petrified in the corner, having just aged about one thousand years.

Thank god for coffee.

And massive mugs.

Show and Tell Postcript

Exactly 11 weeks since the beginning of term, with a mere three weeks to go until the end of term, I have finally remembered to give the kids their items for the weekly Show and Tell.

And

this time, I got it right.

That's twice in one term. I reckon that's about a D minus, don't you? With a report card comment along the lines of must try harder. I've been wracking my brains for an excuse, but as SAHM for everything except a few hours a week, excuses fail me. Like I said, D minus.

Comment of the Week

"Mummy," she says, hands on hip, head cocked to one side, like she does when she's making a Really Important Point..

"Sometimes I only love you, and sometimes I only love Daddy."

Well I guess there's only so much love to go around, huh?

As a relatively new parent (I'm only four years into it you know) I've often wondered when that moment will come where your kid becomes smarter than you. You know, the time when they will roll their eyes, sigh exaggeratedly and with all the patronising gusto they can muster go, "no mum, this is how you use it" about any form of technology you can think of.

It's a foregone conclusion that, unless you're a techno-geek, one day your kids will think you're a dunce. You did it once, remember? When you had to show them how to use the brand new video recorder?

Well, it's happened to me already.

We're on holiday, and this morning, due to the Sunshine Duke's unwavering ability to wake up early no matter what time he went to bed, I was up and trying to work the TV, to give everyone else in the house, at least, a lie in. I tried every remote control (and there were five of them), I tried fiddling with the batteries in them, I tried the buttons on the TV... I tried the cables at the back, I tried everything. Exasperated, I flounced into the kitchen to make myself a calming cup of tea, promising the Duke that I'd be right back to have another go. 

I turn my back for five minutes and guess who's switched the TV on?

Did I mention he is not even three years old yet?

At least I didn't get an eye roll and a sigh, just a "Look, Mummy! The TV is on!" and a delighted smile across his cherubic face. 

Why being a toddler is awesome

Little Miss is approaching her fourth birthday, which means that Sunshine Duke is well on his way to his third birthday... which means that they're not really toddlers anymore. So I'm in the mood to reminisce. Here are my top reasons why being a toddler is awesome.

1. They wake up happy

Toddlers don't wake up and go 'uuuuugh, please tell me it's not morning yet', roll over, and hide under the duvet. No, that's what adults do. Toddlers wake up full to bursting with energy and they wanna do stuff. And what's the first thing they want to do? They want to see you. Can you honestly say, hand on heart, that anyone else in your life is pleased to see you every single morning? Toddlers – they're the living embodiment of Carpe Diem.

2. Their needs are simple

Cuddles? Check. Breakfast? Check. Toys? Check. Cuddles? Check. Cheesy macaroni? Check. Cuddles? Check.

3. Chubby legs

Those fleshy pins are just about the most adorable thing in the world and before you know it, bam, they're gone. When else are you going to be proud as punch of having a kid with fat legs?

4. Time and weather

They don't know what day it is, they don't know what time it is, and frankly, they don't give a damn. They only know that it's either 1. Playtime or 2. Time for Lunch. Plus, they don't care what the weather's doing, they pretty much want go outside anyway.

5. You have to earn their respect.

Respect isn't a notion that a toddler would remotely understand, yet it's built into their psyche. You give them an inch? They'll take the full mile, thank you very much. You want to give them everything they ask for? They'll take it... and then walk all over you. Toddlers want to respect you as much as you want their respect.

6. Colouring in

It's often the number one indoor activity for a toddler, but have you ever done it with them? Have you sat down, crayon in hand and worked hard to stay within the lines? It's surprisingly therapeutic.

7. They dob themselves in...Dobbing.

(This may or may not feature in this http://www.amazon.co.uk/Toddlers-Instruction-Surviving-Written-Parents/dp/0956702449/)

Most definitely Worst Comment of the Week.. in fact... EVER

"I love you too Mummy..."

pause

"But I love Daddy more."

Damn you, Show and Tell

As if there weren't enough things that make me feel like a rubbish mum on a daily basis, Little Miss and the Duke's pre-school makes matters worse with their weekly Show and Tell. It means that every week I've got to remember to give each one of them something to take for it.

Bear in mind that I usually struggle to remember what I was doing 5 minutes ago. Not only are the kids lucky if we get out the house with the requisite changes of clothes, lunchbags, book bags and er, oh yeah, two clean and dressed kids. With ironed clothes. Sometimes.

Only this term, they've just about guaranteed that I'll fail because I now have to remember two things: the over 3s have to have something beginning with a letter and the under 3s something of a certain colour.

But I've got it sussed. This term, the minute I receive the newsletter I'm going to write it on our weekly calendar. This term...This term I AM GOING TO REMEMBER.

Week 1. Um...
School pick up:
"Mummy," says Little Miss enthusiastically, "in today's show and tell we did e for elephant"
"Oh how lovely!"
Pause
"Mummy?"
"Yes darling"
"Why didn't I have anything for Show and Tell?
"Ummmm... because Mummy forgot."
"Oh"
"Sorry sweetheart"
Silence.

Week 2.

I remembered, ha ha ha! You didn't think I would did you, well I did, ha ha ha!

So, off we went to school with our "e" for envelope and blue bowl for Blue! Hurrah! Only second week into the term and I've done it. AND, not only that, but a parent friend didn't get the newsletter so asked me what it was and I told them too. Hah! I can do this! This is easy!

Except...

...I forgot to change the week on my calendar

E for envelope and Blue were last week's show and tell.

This week's was B for ball and red.

We get to school, and I instantly realise my mistake. Little Miss gives me that look that makes me feel like I simply don't deserve to be a mother, never mind a mother to her. But that's not the half of it. Because my parent friend arrives at the same time... and I have to watch mumbling a thousand apologies as she swiftly puts away the adorable, soft toy elephant that her daughter had chosen for Show and Tell. And then, her impossibly beautiful daughter's enormous blue eyes turn to mine with a look of utter devastation..

Damn you, Show and Tell.

Pink Cake

Oh God, she wants a pink cake for her birthday.

I struggle to make a vanilla sponge.

How on earth am I going to make a pink cake?

Anyone? Anyone?

Most Guilt Inducing Comment of the Week

"Mummy, why did you call it a bloody chair?"

Pause

"Does it need a plaster?"

Oops.

I sent my kid to school and I got a monster back

http://freerangestock.com/details.php?gid=&sgid=&pid=1565

Is it just me, or does going back to school bring about a certain rebelliousness? Because my hitherto angelic (ok, not all the time) almost-4 year old daughter has transformed into a stomping, tongue-pulling, brother-hitting, attitudinal (that's not a word but it should be) little girl. And doing stuff like this

'No, I'm not doing it. Neh'

Turning round on way to naughty step (for trying to stab her brother with a plastic knife) and sticking her tongue out at me

Hitting me, in the sports centre, because I wouldn't buy her a drink from the snack machine

Now I realise that kids like to push buttons, but this is the first time she had showed so much damned attitude.

Terrifyingly, I think I may have glimpsed a certain teenage future.

It's not just me, is it? Or is she just, you know, FOUR now?

Most definitely Worst Comment of the Week so far. Ever.

Little Miss: 'Mummy.... I like your top.'

Mummy: 'Oh! Thank you flower'

Little Miss: Reaches up, taps my tummy.

Little Miss: 'You look like you're having a baby, Mummy'

Mummy – Speechless.

Top – In the bin.

The anxiety of separation

'Mummy, I don't want to go to school.'

It's a familiar refrain, but when it comes from a two-year-old, it's a particularly painful one (for this mummy, anyway). It came out of the blue; we'd been following the same routine for weeks. But lo, Separation Anxiety had struck.

As a parent you've had it from the off really, Separation (you separating yourself from them) Anxiety (is making them anxious)...In other words, it's all your fault really...

So when the Duke looks me in the eye and says 'I don't want to go to school anymore' complete with quivering lip, all I want to do is scoop him up and hold him and say come on darling let's go home and play and you don't ever need to go to school again.

But I don't say or do that. I want to bring up a responsible, independent young man so instead I drop him off at school and turn around and leave. While he cries his eyes out. And it's the teacher that scoops him up instead.

His tears – and it has taken me a while to stop ringing up the school ten minutes after drop off – his tears stop almost immediately (and he has a great time at school). But my grief (and guilt, oh, the guilt) lingers in me for much, much longer. And it's of little comfort to me that his nearly-four-year-old sister did the same at his age and now couldn't skip more happily off to school if she tried, because her words "No me play, Mummy. No me play" are still ringing in my years almost two years on.

Ever the Optimist

I'm ever the optimist, me. Certain in the knowledge that one day, small boy won't want to go around bashing everything in his path to smithereens and that one day he will use his considerable intelligence in a constructive manner, rather than in figuring out how to break stuff.

So today we did a little experiment. I decided to try and teach him what gentle means. And I did this by getting him to put some of these back in the fridge.

I know, I know, possibly not the cleverest idea I've ever had. But my thinking was this: what better way to try and teach him that some things are more fragile than others than having to do something with great care.

Duke was well up for the idea. You could see the concentration etched on his face as he listened to my instructions and then slowly, carefully, made his way all the way to the fridge with his fragile little parcel.

And he did it! He actually got it from one side of the kitchen to the other and into the fridge without incident. What a proud Mummy. Of course, no sooner had I lavished praise on his head than he became eager to repeat the process.

Which involved taking the eggs out of the fridge, before mummy could open her mouth to stop him. 

Oops


















Well, I suppose you could say lesson learned.

Mummy, did I write my name?

It's a roller coaster ride, this parenting lark. Whilst I really only write about the fun stuff here there's no doubt that there are some real lows too. On a particularly challenging day, you might even wonder what on earth ever possessed you to procreate. But the rest of the time, there's just no beating it.

Take, for example, the heart-bursting pride you feel when they do something new.

Like when Little Miss disappeared into the lounge and came back holding up a notepad saying,

"Mummy, did I write my name?"

Well, she may as well have written a bestselling  Pulitzer-winning  Nobel-prize-for-literature-winning-novel for the pride that I felt.

And just so you can see what I mean, here it is:

What do you mean it's just a squiggle?

Things I know about taking a fast ferry to France on a choppy sea that I didn't know before

1. Appreciate the beauty and cleanliness of your clothes. Don't they look pretty? Don't they smell nice? Take a good look in the mirror. While you're at it, why don't you take a picture?

2. Appreciate fresh air and firm ground. Doesn't it smell nice? Go on, take a deep breath. Feel how solid the ground is... Doesn't it feel good?

3. Try to remember the advice that a helpful friend gives you at the time. The moment when your kids' puke is dripping from your ears and seeping into your underwear is not the time to remember that your friend told you that on no account should you give the kids anything to eat or drink before your ferry crossing.

4. Take wipes. Lots of wipes. Packets and packets and packets of wipes.

5. Preferably lemon-scented ones. Do Frebreze to travel size bottles? You might want to take that too.

6. Take a change of clothes. Make that two changes of clothes. Each. 

7. If you're wondering why the boat staff fill the sick bag holders full to brimming. Now you know, stupid.

8. Don't sit in an area with lots of other kids. This isn't because you don't like kids, you love kids! But just as yours have finished emptying the contents of their stomach all over you they will fall asleep on you. You, on the other hand, won't be able to do anything except sit and marinate (I don't need to tell you what in, right?) Meanwhile, every other kid was watching yours, and one by one...

9. Finally, marry a man with sea legs. Otherwise, while the kids are using you as a toilet bowl your husband will just about manage to throw a packet of wipes in your general direction before holding his head in his hands and turning a shade of green you've never seen before.

Gender Schmender

There's been a lot of noise in the press about a couple who have decided to raise their child genderless. I'm not going to enter into the debate here, basically because I'm so busy raising said genders that I don't have time to think.

But here's what I know about raising girls vs raising boys.


When Little Miss does jigsaws it looks like this

When the Duke does jigsaws it looks like this

When Little Miss and I do creative projects they look like this

(Big thanks to The Imagination Tree for this one, by the way)

When Duke and I do craft projects they look like this

When Little Miss and I have finished our craft project someone comes along and does this

And it's never been suggested to me by Little Miss' pre-school teachers that I read this

I could go on, but I think you catch my drift.

How old are you?

We're teaching the Duke numbers, and a useful way to do this is to play the "How old are you?" game.

And it goes like this:

"Duke, how old are you?"
"Um.. I don't know"
"You're two!"
"I'm two!"

"Little Miss, how old are you?"
"I'm three-and-a-half!"
"Duke, how old is your sister?
"Um.. I don't know"
"She's three!"
"Free!"

"How old are you, Duke?
"I'm two!"

you get the picture...

So for a bit of fun we add in

"How old is Mummy?"
"Um... I don't know"
"Thirty-seven!"
"Firty-sewen!"
"How old is Duke?"
"Two!"
"Yes! How old is your sister?"
"Um...free!
"Yes! Well done!

and I'm thinking, yay! He's getting it!

So we go
"How old is Mummy?
and without the slightest hesitation he chirps up...

"Old!"

Nature versus Nurture

I experienced startling example of nature versus nature today...

Little Miss had been out in the garden with her father. She came in to me in the kitchen holding a very long and very muddy earthworm in her hand. She held it out to me saying: "Look, Mummy, it won't hurt you..."

and I reacted like this:

"EEeeeeeuuuuuuwwww!"

Her face fell a mile. Suddenly, she wanted to get rid of this creature and dropped it on the floor in disgust. Instantly, she had gone from a little girl proud of the marvellous discovery she had just made to a little girl frightened and repulsed by this harmless creature.

And I haven't stopped feeling guilty since.

You know you're married with children when...

You come home from a rare night out to find that something has been left on your pillow.  Oh! you think excitedly, maybe your husband has left you a love note! Wow! Maybe some romance has crawled back into a 5-year-marriage battered and bruised by the arrival of two small people! Oh the excitement! Oh, how much you love your husband! What a sweetie!

But it's dark, so you don't actually know what it is... yet. 

So you approach the bed quietly, for your husband is fast asleep. Oh! What sweet missives might have been left on... actually, what is it? You can't quite tell...is it a card?  No, too small for a card. A post-it note maybe?  It's hard to tell but You're nearly there! You've got it!  

But you still can't actually see what it is so you race to the bathroom and voila!

It's..!

it's..!

THIS

And in case you thought I was joking here's a close up

Gardening

Now, I'm probably not the worst gardener in the world, but I think I'm probably pretty close. Last summer, I put one of my house plants outside and watered it, thinking "It's a plant, it's going to love sunshine and water!"

It died.

So imagine my surprise when my potted basil and mint plants started thriving. Yes, thriving. Not just clinging onto existence, but positively blooming. Big healthy leaves reaching up into the sky. I was so proud of my little self.

Sigh. My elation was short-lived.

Because Little Miss decided that my carefully tended, first ever successful plants needed a haircut. A haircut? Yes, a hair cut.

Naturally, to a 3-year-old a hair cut means complete obliteration.

This is what is left of my mint plant...

and my, sniff,  basil

Once upon a time...

...in a time far far away...
...my bed was something I used to sleep in... now it's just somewhere to hang out between baby/toddler/3-year old cries... 

Comment of the Week – Best & Worst

Simply the BEST

"Mummy, you look beautiful."

(probably only said because I was wearing a pink cardigan, the colour pink being Little Miss' favourite thing in the whole WORLD, but let's gloss over that bit..)

Simply the WORST

"Mummy, I don't think your botty will fit on there."
"Why not?"
"Because your botty is too big."

Sleep...or lack thereof

In a new series of what I think I'll call the What people don't tell you about Having Children, here's my number one: Why didn't anyone mention the fact that yes, the first few months with a new baby will be your first real experience of  total sleep-deprivation but what nobody mentions is that, actually,

YOU
WILL
NEVER
SLEEP
AGAIN

When your little bundle of joy arrives the focus is entirely on he/she "getting through" the night, and you just blithely assume that everyone will go back to getting all the sleep they need, just like the good ol' days...

But I'm still waiting...

...and here's why. This is my week's sleep diary.

Day One:
5.05am the Duke calls out. I wait ten minutes, he goes back to sleep.
I do not.
Time spent asleep approx 6 hours. This is a good night.
Day Two:
3am Little Miss crying in her sleep, go in to find her duvet-less. Replace duvet, tuck her in and spend the next hour and a half trying to get back to sleep.
5am the Duke shouts out Pizza! Conclude he is dreaming and roll over. Try to get back to sleep and fail miserably.
5.45 Little Miss crying again and shouting "Don't want to". Conclude she too is having nightmare and go in to cuddle. Don't go back to sleep.
Worry about what I have given them to eat that has given them both nightmares. Time spent asleep approx 4 hours.
Day Three:
Good news! Kids didn't wake until morning.
Bad news! I have bladder of 90 year old. Up at 2am for a wee-wee. Take one hour to go back to sleep. Average time spent asleep 6 hours.
Day Four:  
Good news! Kids didn't wake until morning.
Bad news!  Husband steals duvet, wake up at 3am c-c-c-c-cold. You know the rest.
Day Five:
We're on for a HATRICK of kids sleeping through. Hurrah! Now just got to make sure Mummy sleeps all night.
2.30am BLOODY CAR ALARM GOES OFF
Take one-and-a-half hours to go back to sleep.
Day Six:
5am the Duke dawn chorus

Day Seven:
God, I'm tired...

A Plea to my Children

Little Miss and Duke, please, don't wake me up in the middle of the night because:

1. You're cold, when you know perfectly well how to pull up the duvet;
2. because you think I didn't come up and snuggle you again when I did, only you were asleep;
3. Or simply because you've trumped so often and so loudly that you've woken yourself up and you think someone else should share the experience.

School

Oh God, I knew I should have paid more attention at school..

"Mummy, why are there trees?"
"Er, well, um, let me see, er, well they're part of um, nature! And, er, they hold the earth together..." (WHAT?)

"Mummy, why is the moon out?"
"Er, well, um, let me see, er, well you know who knows aaalll about the moon?
"Who?"
"Big Grandad. Ask Big Grandad, he knows all about the moon!"

"Mummy, why is the moon high high up?
"Ah well, because we're a planet, and the moon is a planet, and the planets are very very very very far away from each other."
 
"Why, Mummy?"

Uh-oh

Left 3-year-old Little Miss in sole charge of watering a house plant.

What the bloody hell was I thinking?

Plant now on life support, prognosis is grim...

Least favourite conversation of the week...

It's bedtime, and I'm putting on Little Miss' pyjamas when she asks:

"What are those, Mummy?" she says, pointing to my face.
"What are you looking at?" I say
"Those," she says, pointing at my forehead.

I look at her perplexed until I realise... she is pointing at my wrinkles...

"Oh, you mean these?" I say, pointing to the deep furrows on my forehead which I happily ignore most of the time...

"Yes," affirms Little Miss
"They're wrinkles," I say, not particularly enjoying the way this conversation is going...

"Have I got wrinkles?"
"No, you're too young for wrinkles."
"Has Duke got wrinkles?"
"No, he's too little too."
"When will I get wrinkles?"
"When you're thirty-seven."
"Am I thirty-seven?"
"No, you're three."
"Are you thirty-seven?"
"Yes I am."
"When will I be thirty-seven?"
"Not for a long, long, LONG time my dear."


Part II

We're driving in the car...

"Mummy, why are you cross?"
"I'm not cross, poppet! Why do you think I'm cross?"
"You look cross."
"Oh, do you mean because I'm doing this?" I say, pointing (again) to my furrowed brows
"Yes"
"I'm not cross poppet, I'm just concentrating."
"Why are you 'trating?"
"Because I'm driving."
"Why are you 'trating while you're driving?"
"I'm con-cen-trating so that we don't get lost."
"Are we lost?"
"No, we're not lost because I am concentrating!"
"But you're not cross."
"No," I sigh inwardly, "I'm not cross poppet."

Anyone fancy recommending a wrinkle-erasing cream?

Favourite comment of the week

"Mummy, can you pass me the lettuce please?"

At last, irrefutable evidence that I must be doing something right...

Least favourite conversation of the week...

http://www.dreamstime.com/freeimage-imagefree336546

We're in the bathroom, Little Miss and I. I'm brushing my teeth, putting face cream on, plucking my eyebrows, you know, the usual things us women do to make ourselves look better. Little Miss has been watching me carefully. And pipes up with:

"You're not beautiful Mummy"

She may as well have driven a stake into my heart.

I nearly choke on my toothpaste.

"Oh, really?" I splutter. "Um, well, that's not um, very nice."

but I have to know...

"Why isn't Mummy beautiful?

"Because you haven't got fings on your eyes."

I haven't got a clue what she means. But then I realise...

"Oh, you mean I haven't got any make-up on."

"Yeah," she says.

And this next bit is utterly shameless

"But is Mummy still pretty?"

"Yes Mummy, course you are."

Christ. My self-esteem is resting in the hands of a three-year-old. 

I'm not trying to be sexist, but

I'm not trying to be sexist here, but men can't find stuff.

Ok, let me temper that sentence a bit. The men I live with can't find stuff.

If ever I see husband rooting through cupboards and drawers I immediately ask him what he's looking for, because I know that he won't find it whereas I'll probably find whatever it is in like, a nanosecond.

And the Duke is showing exactly the same lack of talent when it comes to finding things. Let me give you an example:

He likes crackers does our Duke, so he can often be found saying "kaka" to me hopefully. And he will usually get one. Today, I gave him a cracker, yet not two seconds later he's back again imploring me for a "kaka".

"But you've already got one" I say.

"Kaka!" he says

"But Duke, I've just given you one!"

"Mummy! Kaka!" he says, tears welling up in his eyes, "Peese!"

I look at him

he looks at me

"Duke" I say

"Yes?" he says, in that baleful way only he knows how

"It's in your hand?"

"Mmmm?" he says

"It's in your hand, Duke"

He looks at his hand and, hey presto, there's the cracker, and it's been there all along...

And off he trots

Coffee 'n' Cake

Is it a terrible indictment of my parenting that firmly ensconced in my 20-month-old boy's list of first sentences is:

"Mummy? Coffee. Cake."

Pause

"Pees?"

Because I Said So

www.dreamstime.com

"Because I said so!" and derivations thereof, are pretty frequently uttered phrases in our home.

Because every command is followed a "Why?" and well, you get fed up of giving everything an explanation and think "I'm going to stamp some authority around here", so you say:

"Because I told you to."

"But Mummy," says Little Miss

"I didn't tell you to speak."

Friends

Like any mother, I'm keen to know whether my little one is making any friends at school, and what she thinks of the friends we already have.

So I was thrilled when, on the way to Ruby's house, she said: "I love Ruby".

"Ah, that's nice!" says I. And I want to find out more.

"So what is it you like about Ruby?"

I'm expecting a character analysis here, you know, "Ruby's nice" or "Ruby is friendly" or something along those lines but, what she likes about Ruby is:

"Her doll's house"

Clean

When oh when oh when oh when will I ever be clean again? I don't mean that my shower's broken, I mean that from the time I get up to the time I go to bed I get covered in...

The Duke uses me as his personal handkerchief every time his nose runs, which, let's face it, is ALL the time.

Little Miss reverts to her 2 year old self quite frequently saying: "Feed me" and wanting to sit on my lap...so that's the trousers covered

And simply during the process of that day's glueing, colouring, feeding and bathing I end up covered head to toe in glue, pen, food and...

...the  pièce de résistance was this morning when, while I was still in bed, the Duke crawled over me, only husband had omitted to change his very full nappy first...

Eugh!

Dobbing

Don't you just love it when kids dob themselves in?

We were walking along the high street and she was playing at pushing her (shiny new Christmas present) pram and baby in front of her and then running after it. This is fine along a high street of course, but not in the shops, so I say "don't do that now we're in the shop please" as we enter a Marks and Spencer.

But of course, as sure as night follows day she does it again, in the shop.

"You do that again and I'll take it from you Miss."

And I carry on shopping whilst watching her out of the corner of my eye. And as sure as night follows day...

"Right, that's it, I'm having that now."

"Nooo!" waaaaail "Nooo!"

"I told you if you did it again I would take the pram so now you can't have it until we're out of the shop."

"But I waaaant it." Waaaaaiiiil

"Then why did you do what I had told you not to?"

And without even hesitating Little Miss says: "because I thought you weren't looking Mummy."

Least favourite comment of the week...

..."Mummy, are you having a new baby?"

Time to dust off the New Year diet books...