Introducing the thought patterns of a toddler

I am probably a terrible mother. I don't set up home made activities to amuse my children and bake my own play dough like I am sure good mothers do. No I let them play with the shop bought stuff, sing pop songs to them instead of nursery rhymes and teach them how to do the time warp.

Daughter number one was playing with aforementioned play dough with her Godmother earlier this month. GM is highly educated and likes to find a learning opportunity to expand D1 horizons whenever she can.
Whilst using the play dough press which squeezes out different shapes, GM was trying to explain a learning point to D1

GM "Now if you look at this shape here (A large hole surrounded by smaller ones) its an interesting piece of physics. Although the pressure is the same, the speed at which the dough emerges is different. Do you know why?"

D1 "Look! A Mustache!" Having been so enthralled by this early physics lesson, D1 had rolled herself a play dough mustache and was now proudly modelling it!

D1 also enjoyed a solo trip to stay with Uncle T this month.
He phoned and asked to speak to her so he could invite her to come and stay.

Uncle T "Would you like to come and stay with me this weekend as a special treat all by yourself?"

D1 Thinking hard "Um no thank you I am going fruit picking.."

Uncle T "Right well I didn't see that one coming. Well ok I can see if we can do some fruit picking while you are visiting?"

She has never been fruit picking and has never before expressed an interest in partaking in it! As Uncle T lives in the middle of Bristol I can only assume that it was to see if she could make him make a ridiculous request happen. I think she may now well and truly have his "I just cant say no" number...

Introducing a daytrip with a tiny ginger

I am probably a terrible mother. I don't take my daughter on days out to historical monuments, examples of Gothic Victorian architecture and museums on the history of cheese like I am sure good mothers do. No I take her on day trips to big cities where we can spend the day eating our body weight in cake and spending money on stuff we don't need.

Take this weekend for example. Daughter Number One and I went to visit her Uncle in Bristol (yep thats right the one who buys balloons and can't say no to her!).
As it was just the two of us we decided to get the train to Bristol.
D1 loves trains. D1 also loves a captive audience. This journey gave her both.
After attempting to lead the whole carriage in a rendition of "If you're happy and you know it" (which did raise a few smiles but no-one seemed to want to be the loon who joins in..) she then turned her attention to the other passengers sat at our table.

Having politely chatted for a couple of minutes the man sat opposite me confessed that he is employed by Great Western, the firm running the train we were on. He pointed out all the towns we were going through to D1 and was generally very friendly and pleasant to be sat opposite.
He asked D1 the usual questions you ask a small child.. "How old are you?" D1 "FOUR (she is two!) Daddy is 47 (Me horrified "No he's not he's 27!)"
She then proceeded to tell him that Daughter Number Two was at home with a sore eye. He then asked "Who's that?" to which D1 replied "My brother!"
Me "You'll give her a complex if you introduce her as your brother!"
Finally he asked who she was going to Bristol to see.
D1 replied "My Uncle and he is a zebra!"

Well I've heard him called worse things!

He then proceeded to help me, D1 and our pram from the train before bidding us farewell. A lovely man, proud to work for First Great Western and happy to help a mother and child from the train even on his day off. Now if I could just train the husband....

Introducing the tactics of a sneaky niece...

My brother is a terrible uncle. He doesn't spend time with his nieces bird watching, hiking and  buying them healthy snacks like I am sure good Uncles do. He definitely is not in charge when it comes to the two mini people in his life. No he takes them trampolining, allows them to freely spend large chunks of his cash and fills my house with what feels like hundreds of bloody helium balloons (he appeared this weekend with what has become a customary balloon which he had carried on a train all the way from Bristol)

You would think he would have been thoroughly put off this expensive present idea as the first time he bought her one she promptly pulled it off of its weight and gleefully watched as it soared into the sky over the shops of Bristol. Undeterred he then proceeded to buy her another one the next time we saw him. This time she came running from the shop shouting "Peppa Pig be free" and attempting to launch this one into the sky also. She seems to have decided that to fulfill its destiny a helium balloon must be immediately released into the sky upon purchase to the soundtrack of a now skint and horrified uncle.

He once told me that he is powerless to resist the demands of Daughter Number One and if she were to ask him for all his money he would reluctantly have no choice but to say "Ok" and hand it over to her.
Unfortunately for him D1 has started to realise this..
He likes to play a game with her where he asks if she would rather have something or a hundred pounds. For example he will say "What would you like more, a biscuit, or a hundred pounds." When this first started she would of course always choose the biscuit or whatever else he was offering. Until the one time she chose a hundred pounds. Our reaction was obviously so hilarious (Brother going puce, husband chocking with laughter, me holding out my hand in a "well you did offer it so hand it over" kind of fashion) that she now always chooses the hundred pound offer.
We are fairly sure his tab with her is now into the thousands..

Cut to a family trip to Bristol to visit said brother/Uncle. We had decided to indulge in some retail therapy whilst we were there. Brother was releasing D1 from her car seat and suddenly said "As you've been such a good girl I will let you have £3 to spend on whatever you would like today."
D1 looks at him thoughtfully, looks at us and then exclaims "one hundred pounds please!"

Introducing avoidance tactics of a tiny ginger

I am probably a terrible mother. I am not able to calmly talk in a singsong voice when my children misbehave. I don't nicely ask them to stop and explain that their behavior is "upsetting mummy" like I'm sure good mothers do.
I get cross, they get cross, I shout, they scream, we both end up red in the face, people stare and I try to pretend that I'm not bothered. It never looks convincing.

Take a recent trip to a play Cafe with Daughter Number One, Two and a very pregnant family friend.
The play area itself consists of a three tier play frame with the usual tubes, slides and customary ball pit.
Having allowed D1 to tear around the play area for a good couple of hours whilst we excitedly discuss friends imminent new arrival the time comes for us to leave.

I clearly didn't think this through. Rather than waiting until D1 is somewhere I can grab her I stupidly announce to her that its time to leave whilst she is at the top of the play frame thinking that having had a very generous amount of play time that she will happily agree and trot dutifully down. Nope.

She shouts that its not time to go and that she is staying to play. I immediately demand that she come down in my sternest voice that never fails to get husband jumping to attention. Nothing.

This is the point where I exclaim "right if you wont come down then I will come up there young lady."
Has any full grown adult ever attempted to negotiate a play frame designed for under fives? Needless to say I didn't really get much further than the entrance. On reflection I am glad I saw sense and didn't try any harder to get up there as my behavior was already starting to attract attention and I imagine a mother becoming stuck in the play frame would ruin everyone's afternoon.

I therefore walk back to family friend (who I can tell is trying very hard not to laugh!) and tell her that I'm going to play it cool, pretend we are not leaving and wait for D1 to emerge.
That's when she starts toying with us. She slowly wanders up and down the top tier, waving at us in a very smug "I've outsmarted Mummy" kind of way and basically looks very pleased with herself.
The only way down is a big slide on one side of the frame. She hovers by it for what feels like an age with me trying to look nonchalant and not bothered whilst actually getting more wound up by the minute.

Then she gets really cocky and decides to go down the slide backwards on her front.
I sweep into the play area so fast I accidentally stand on another parents foot but don't care, so desperate am I to save face and regain control from the two year old currently calling the shots.
She is strapped into the pram before she can blink and I can tell the adults are holding back rapturous applause for this very public victory for parents everywhere.
She screams all the way out and I pretend that I'm not bothered. It doesn't look convincing.

Introducing accident cover ups of a tiny ginger...

I am probably a terrible mother. I don't have a little song to sing when I take daughter number one to the toilet, I don't write a family newsletter every time she successfully does a wee like I am sure good mothers do. Most of the time I don't nag her enough about regular weeing so that the other day she ended up having a "little accident" on the sofa whilst watching tv with Daddy.

They had gone downstairs together early on a weekday morning. For D1 this mean cereal and a chance to feed her CBeebies addiction. For Husband it was a chance to try and have a cheeky nap whilst earning brownie points with me as I thought he had got up early to sort out the children.
He, also probably being a terrible father, had no thought to nag D1 into having an early morning wee. This is the start of where he went wrong.
He dutifully gave D1 the desired cereal, switched on the desired tv programme and promptly fell into a childrens tv related coma (any parents of small children will appreciate this. You are not necessarily asleep but the lights are on and no one is home!!).

It is hard to say at what point D1 had her "little accident", probably somewhere between Zingzillas and Mr Blooms Nursery, but we cant be sure.
The first Husband knew of it was when she shook him awake shouting "Daddy wake up. The sofa is wet!!"
She then proceeded to explain to him that she had had a little accident, gone upstairs, changed her pyjamas, been for a poo (she does love to proudly share that achievement everytime!) and come back down to wake him up.
It was at this point that he realised that it was not just the sofa that was wet. Thats right folks not only had D1 wee'd all over Daddy but he had slept through the whole thing!!!!

If this wasn't already funny enough the best part is that within a few hours D1 had completely re-written the story to "Daddy did a wee on the sofa..."
Its an interesting statement to try and explain at baby group I can tell you!

Introducing trips out with small children

I am probably a terrible mother. I don't spend trips out immersing my children in culture, taking our own organic packed lunches and going on nature hikes like I am sure good mothers do. I take them to zoos, aquariums and anywhere else that has a gift shop and a cafe.

We recently took daughter number one on a short holiday to London. This should probably have included a trip to the Houses of Parliament, The Natural History Museum , The National Portrait Gallery and all the other boring places that I'm sure good parents take their children to. We however went to the zoo, aquarium and the Science Museum (mainly due to all the things you get to play with there!)
Husband and I had a wonderful time and occasionally managed to remember that we were there on the pretext on entertaining a small child.

During our visit to the aquarium we had a rather close encounter with a shark in one of the large tanks. It swam right past us and I was in the process of pointing it out to Daughter Number One when I turned to Husband and (quietly I thought) asked "Whats that thing sticking out of its bottom?
Husband "Well its either a penis or an anal fin"
Me "No I think its definitely a penis"
At which point D1 shouts "NO PENIS!" at the top of her voice. I tell you it is very hard to tell a two year old that they shouldn't shout PENIS in public when you are crying with laughter.

Taking the tube around London with a train mad toddler was also lots of fun. D1 was going through a huge train obsession at the time and as anyone who has been to London will know we spent a lot of time hopping on and off of different tubes. D1 would then insist on shouting "ALL ABOARD" and blowing an imaginary whistle every time we got on a different tube.
What people who have been to London will also know is that no-one makes eye contact or talks on the tube. Especially hardened commuters who do it every day. That is unless they have made the unfortunate decision to sit next to Daughter Number One.
Being heavily pregnant with Daughter Number Two at the time and travelling with a small child meant that most of the time people would leap from their seats to let us sit down.
That is how Husband and D1 ended up sitting in a different part of the carriage to me. Next to a very serious looking business man. After looking around to see where I was D1 taps the business man on the knee, points to Husband and says "That's Daddy" points to me across the carriage "That's Mummy" and points to herself and gives him her name. She then looks expectantly at the now totally bemused and very uncomfortable city worker.
"Pleased to meet you" he mumbles awkwardly before rather rapidly alighting at the next stop.
Now if we can just get her into Number 10 perhaps she could lead a getting to know you session for the Coalition....

Introducing eating out with small children

I am probably a terrible mother. I don't spend meal times with my children feeding them homemade hummus and teaching them the different ways to cook an aubergine like I'm sure good mothers do. I take them to cafes and coffee shops and restaurants and submit the general public to their company on a daily basis.

Me to Husband "Do you think we eat out too often?"
Husband "No. What makes you ask that?"
At this point we are just walking past our local Weatherspoons (Other chain pubs are of course available..) when daughter number one starts shouting " Porridge, toast and a cup of tea please". When we continue to walk past she starts to beg "Please I need breakfast, I'm very hungry" (This is despite the fact that she has already had one, if not two breakfasts at home!). When they have their own breakfast order and recognise the building I think it might be a sign that we go there too much!

Another fun experience is dining out with a toddler who is now potty trained. So far it has been impossible to explain to her that although at home she is not discouraged from letting us know she needs the toilet, standing on a chair and announcing to the whole restaurant that she "needs to have a big lunch poo" does not make for a great dining experience for other people.
Worse still is the "toilet walk of shame" when she either talks loudly about her impending bowl movements or tells anyone unfortunate enough to make eye contact with her that "I am going for a poo". She also likes to emerge from said toilet visit and announce to anyone in the near vicinity that "IVE DONE A WEE!!".

Lastly there are the unpredictable observation skills. We were very proud when daughter number one learnt to recognise an entire range of colours. That was until we were sat in a fairly intimate cafe when she starts pointing at a woman on the next table and loudly asking "Mummy is that lady's hair green?" Her hair was in fact a delightful shade of broccoli and was a feature that had not gone unnoticed by Husband and I. This however just made getting D1 to not talk about it so much harder. She then picked up a strand of her own hair and started exclaiming "My hair is orange and her hair is green. GREEN Mummy GREEN."
We should probably wait a while before taking her to any punk festivals, she would probably spontaneously combust from all the hair colour related excitement! Or Husband would get punched by an offended purple haired punk....