So I got down off my soap box,
because I was getting a bit hoarse from all that shouting, and also because the
view from up there is really quite depressing.
Not that the view from Ground Parenting is all roses and cupcakes. The Girl is determined, it seems, to lose all
of her personal belongings – or at least anything she brings to school. The tally so far – three weeks in – is: two hats,
one shoe, a very nice (also,
very expensive) cardigan, a water bottle, a snack box, a lunch box, and an
entire ballet kit, including brand new shoes.
My choices are to keep her in the house, or staple all her belongings to
her. Time to go staple shopping I
think.
The Baby, meanwhile, got a taste of
the forbidden fruit of co-sleeping (she was sick, I was tired) and so now every
night it’s the same old schtick: “Me
sleep with you?” No. “Meeeeeeeee sleeeeeeeeeeep with
youuuuuuuuuuuuu?” No. “Waaaaaaaaaaaah.” Last
night: “Me sleep with you last week, ‘member?” Yes, I ‘member. But you were sick, ‘member? She then proceed to gag and retch until she got
sick, at which point she triumphantly announced: “Me sick!
Me sleep with you now!” (No.)
And the Boy – well, where do I
begin. Currently, it’s just dawning on
me that, at nearly 7, I am running very short
on time to influence his behaviour or personality. (Anyone familiar with the Jesuits will know
what I’m talking about.) Although I should probably admit to myself that this is battle
lost long ago - if even ever fought, that is. He’s currently obsessed with world records – mainly those related to
something vile or disgusting or vomit-in-your-mouth inducing: the longest nails (uuuuugh) or the hairiest
family (oh yes) or the biggest poo (I was unable to help him with this –
cursory glances at the Guinness Book did not include photos of record-breaking
poos - but I suggested he or his younger sister could probably be contenders). In the car, alone with him the other
day:
Him: Who’s the most beautiful woman
in the world?
Me (Feigning shock – and, dare I say it – disappointment): What do you mean? It’s ME of course.
Him: (Laughing convulsions. Then squirming with embarrassment.) Come on Mummy, stop, you know what I mean!
Me:
I don’t know what you mean! I am the most beautiful woman in the
world.
Him:
(More squirming, although the convulsions have given way to something
approaching mild panic. Concern,
perhaps, for my senility, or at my disillusion.) Mum! STOP! C’mon! You know you’re not!
Me:
Huh? WHAT?
Him:
(No longer laughing; visibly
antsy, in fact.) Mum, SERIOUSLY! How
could you be the most beautiful woman in the world? You’re all old, and you’ve got brown hair and
brown eyes and everything...
Me:
(Quite seriously) Sorry?
Him: You don’t have blonde
hair. Or Blue eyes.
Me:
Oh.
So, great. I have sired (can a woman
sire? Google doesn’t know) an Aryan
supremacist. Although is that worse or
better than siring someone who can vomit at will to serve her own needs, or the
Child Who Loses Everything? I
dunno. I give up, in fact. Here, have my children. Anyone?
Mine are awful or I'd offer to trade.
ReplyDeleteYou've "birthed" a boy-child who likes blond hair and blue eyes. His tastes may change when he gets older.
ReplyDeleteAll children are terrible sometimes, it's up to us to train them to be reasonable human beings. If they're too obnoxious, they'll never get mates and give you grandchildren. Also, you wouldn't want to see them on holidays.
My two boys have been obsessed with poo, vomited to appear sick, and whined incessantly to sleep with mom. They're pretty good about not losing things. Does she get pocket money? I'd have her pay for the things she's lost.
My "kids" are all aged 39 and up. They still lose things and telephone me to help find the items. I don't even live in the same country but I am apparently psychic. Items lost: expensive purses, a passport or two, sweaters, or often, jewellery. Usually we have to call St. Anthony for advice. Making them pay for things lost never worked.
ReplyDeleteLoved this --- made me laugh out loud. Mine are all 27 and upwards -- just acquired first grandchild! --- but this brought back so many memories. Its hard at the coal face but so much more fun than what comes next! It's all worth it though.
ReplyDeleteHahahahaha made me LOL. (I'm so down with the kids.)
ReplyDeleteI recommend that you purchase a blonde wig and blue contact lenses and freak your son out. Sorry, can you tell that I don't have children?
ReplyDeleteYes, like everyone else this made me laugh out loud.
ReplyDeleteCurrent Evil Mother approach with my girls is that I notionally put £50 each into a jar at the start of the school year and anything lost has to be paid for out of it - rest is theirs come summer holidays to spend on what they want (obviously with guidance and veto from moi)
ReplyDelete