Late for a music class, and greeted by a re-surfacing road closure, just metres from the entrance to the park where the class takes place, the little B-P and I found ourselves stuck in traffic. For 40 minutes. We missed the class which is irritation enough: it’s a great class which B-P loves; it’s expensive and paid for in advance. Irritated by the road closure, irritated that we left late that morning, and irritated that we’d miss a fun and educational class. Then throw in this little mantra, on repeat from the back seat of the car, “Park mummy park. That way mummy. Mummy mummy mummy park park park that way mummy.” for 40 minutes.
Sitting in a cafe with a friend whose little boy was sitting calmly, drinking his babycino and ‘chatting’ to his mum and I. BP was in full on exploratory mode, wouldn’t sit still and answered every polite request to come and sit down with a loud ‘noooo!’ And any attempt I made to actually pick her up, resulted in her doing that thing toddlers do, when they become a long thin lead weight and drop to the floor. And then lay there shouting “noooo mummy”. All the while my friend’s little boy remained in his seat. Why wasn’t mine behaving that way? Bad parent? Oh the shame!
The little B-P was recently told by Mr. Baffled that there was no time to get her train set out. When Mr. B returned and found his daughter had dragged the train set from under the sofa anyway, and was merrily choo choo-ing away, he asked her, “Who got the train set out?” To which she calmly replied, “Mummy did it.” When Mr. B told me this I was astonished. And if I’m being honest, secretly a little bit amused by her ability to front it out so casually. And then immediately terrified as to what this ability might mean for the teenage years!
Mild (but regular) annoyance
Mr. Baffled doesn’t know how to stack a dishwasher. I of course don’t mean this literally: he knows where it is; how to open the door and how to place an item in there. But he doesn’t know how to stack it efficiently to get the maximum amount of dirty dishes washed in one go. I really don’t think I even noticed this before I had little B-P and became a stay at home mum. But the dishwasher, dirty dishes and the kitchen sink feature much more heavily in my day now, and getting as much as possible in there has taken on new levels of importance. I know Mr. Baffled doesn’t mean to create this mild annoyance deliberately, but it still annoys me. On a daily basis. So I’m going to try counting to ten each time I open that magic washing box. Oh, and shame him publicly on my blog.
I recently watched B-P climb to the very top of a soft play centre, negotiating her way through the many brightly coloured obstacles before careering down the (really) big slide, squealing with glee. She ran out to where I was sitting, and beaming from ear to ear said, “I did it all by myself!” I can’t tell you how proud I was of my independent little explorer. Much braver than me, I’m not sure I’d have gone down that slide: it was enormous!
What’s your little Button-Pusher done to your buttons this week?