This time last year, I genuinely feared that my son hated me. One year on and I have a total anaconda on my hands!
Teeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!; I hear bellowing relentlessly around the house. I hope he always calls me Tee.
He clutches to my leg and wraps himself around me, he demands that only I take him for his pee pees and ony I will do at bedtime. There is no doubt that he loves me, no doubt that he sees me as his protector and play mate, but oh my word; it’s exhausting!!!!
I assume this clingy phase will pass.
We’re in the throws of the terrible two’s. Little man has my temper, coupled with OH’s stubberness. This makes for an explosive cocktail!
We’ve been good so far on the united parenting front. When we say no, we mean no!!! Little man is certainly testing the boundaries; throwing himself on the floor, squealing and shrieking like something possessed and ultimately testing my patience to it’s limits.
We’ve been good though, no raised voices or shouting. We just calmly stand our grand, which is a huge departure from how I was raised. A quick slap was the tool of choice during my upbringing. Not excessively by any means but used nonetheless.
Psychology has helped myself and OH to map out our own path on the family front, not conforming to our own parents ideals. Its not as easy as it sounds.
It’s day 3 of potty training and we’re now at around 50% success rates. Not bad going really, and I’m feeling proud of our little man.
He loves using his potty. Well actually to be more precise, he loves emptying his potty down the “big toilet” Here in lies the dilemma. Our little man’s control is so good that he stops his pee pee mid flow, so that he can go clean the potty. He empties it, goes again with a few more dribbles and so the routine follows until he’s eventually empty.
It’s great that he’s doing so well, but mmmmmm we can’t go back and forth repeatidly all day. These little people certainly do keep us on our toes.
PS potty training is very similar to training a puppy…Consistency is key!.. 😉
The battle lines were drawn. He glared at me steadfast, and confident. There was only ever going to be one winner here.
No I will not use a spoon today Mummy! I will eat my beef and mash on my terms, or I shall starve!!!!!
You’ve got to admire the stubberness off a 2 year old. We can usually count on him to swallow grub without protest, handling cutlery like a pro.
Some battles are worth fighting and simetimes when sleep depruved and alone it’s just easier to wait whilst this little human, slowly and infuriatingly sucks beef and mash from a 5ml paracetamol syringe.
This evening would be spent powerhosing every nook and cranny of his little pudgy arms and legs. There was much fun had running and rolling down sand dunnes and I knew that he would harbour kilograms of the stuff and gleefully sprinkle it on kitchen tiles, staircase carpets and bedroom floors upon our return home. I will deal with that tomorrow!!!
Now though, it’s bath time. A whiff of something in the air indicated the need for a gentle pre wipe. I whipped his nappy off, dealt with his thoughtful little gift, and stood him, bare bummed and smiling by our bath.
I quickly nipped out to grab his PJ’s and upon my return, there they were, glistening and golden on my bathroom floor;
3 little puddles………….