Oh yay, the three-nager appears to have reappeared.
It started the other week, when he was off colour. I tried to be sympathetic, after all he wasn’t just “off colour”, he was boy “off colour”. I tried to be understanding when he said his cheerios hurt his throat, when he said that the Yorkshire Pudding’s made his “tummy jumpy”, however, I drew the line when he suggested perhaps a hot chocolate with marshmallows would be “just the right medicine”.
So we’ve had a bit of a rough week with food, but are starting to get back on track. However, the attitude hasn’t gone. The suddenly slow when it comes to stripping down for the bath, the sudden selective hearing when I say “five more minutes until we go” or the sudden argumentative stroppy response of “NO IT’S NOT IT’S SUNNY” when I’m trying to explain that he can’t wear “high up sleeves and shorts” because it’s too cold. I would also like to point out it wasn’t just cold, it was peeing it down outside.
I know, I KNOW, this is what having a toddler is all about. I know they’re “trying”, that they’re “a handful” that they are “little characters”. But OH MY GOD am I the only person who just sometimes just wants to have a melt down? I have been
stressed and hormonal laid back and chilled all week, so it’s to be expected a total surprise that The Beast has managed to rub me up the wrong way.
Tuesday was amazingly the worst. By amazingly I’m not sure how, when I only picked him up from Pre-School at 3.30pm, and went for tea with his friends so got home for 5.30pm. That means approximately one and a half hours of time together.
In the morning we started off well, he got dressed nicely, got in the car nicely (albeit, his new method of having to climb on the tyre and swinging in on the seatbelt Spiderman style is starting to get slightly tiresome), trotted up to his new pre-school room (he’s in the BIG class now – *sob*), didn’t get upset waved me goodbye.
I picked him up at the end of the day, he was a bit chatty and slow at putting his shoes on, but I put it down to the fact he was excited to tell me about what he’d been up to, especially that he’d had to use a knife to use the interactive whiteboard because he was too small (yes you read that correctly a knife – on further investigation it turns out a plastic toy one but it didn’t sound good did it?). He was excited about going to Heidi’s and I was looking forward to a brew and a chat.
He was a bit clingy “play with me mummy” which I feel bad about becuase Larry had had a melt down and was collapsed on top of me on the sofa.
We got home, they both had a snack and I spoke to my mum on the phone. This is where it all went wrong. I was on the phone and he brought his toys to show me, I was just saying goodbye and told him I would be with him in one minute, pop it on the sofa and I’d be right over. He threw it on the floor, I told him not to do that, he kicked them. I was irritated. I didn’t shout but I got a bit stroppy.
We went upstairs to the top floor to play in his room while before and while I was running the bath. We played a bit, but when it was time to get undressed he wouldn’t, he didn’t want to. He refused to strip down. I stripped the fat one down and dumped him in the bath, I tried – probably in a bit of a lacklustre way – to coax him again. He refused, just DOWN RIGHT IGNORED ME. He’d been allowed to play on my phone, and I’d told him if he got in and out of the bath quickly he could have another go while we were waiting for Daddy to get home to read the story.
He ignored me. So what did I do? Did I pin him to the ground and strip him down throwing a screaming child in the bath? No. Did I send him in the hall? No. Did I continue to attempt to coax and bribe? No. I couldn’t be bothered, I was just too tired.
Instead, and I’m not proud of this, I gave up. I got the Fat one out of the bath and put his PJs on. I let him roam about the room, watch the end of the bedtime hour, I sat on the sofa in his room. Briefly making a half attempt to pretend I was going to ban the bedtime story.
He obviously guessed I was a bit miffed at him, as he started bringing his toys over “HELLO MUMMY” <his chin on his chest in his best pretend voice> “HELLO MUMMY WILL YOU PLAY WITH ME?”
“no Theo. I don’t want to play with you, you’ve been naughty and made me sad as you wont get in the bath like I asked you too”
“NO – YOU’VE MADE ME SAD AS YOU WONT GET IN THE BATH” (clever)
“No darling, you’ve been naughty”
“NO – I HAVEN’T I’VE BEEN A GOOD BOY, I’M A GOOD BOY”
“No, and unless you’re going to get in the bath you can go and sit over there as I don’t want to talk to you” (classy)
“BUT I WANT TO TALK TO YOU”
“But I don’t want to talk to you”.
This went on for some time, until Matthew got home. He managed to sort it as I sulked on the sofa until The Beast apologised. Then of course I had to apologise as I wasn’t very nice either.
Sometimes I don’t think I’m grown up enough to be a Mummy, and I think that conversation may prove my point. Please please PLEASE tell me I’m not the only person who has petty silly arguments with a child who isn’t even CLOSE to teenager age?