Well. Due to popular demand, (all 3 of you), I figured, with some coaxing from the wife, to continue the story of toddler-land. What’s the worse that can happen? So I’ve renamed the blog-type-thing as above.
Since we’ve been back the toddler is still running on European time. This makes nighttime and the gentle art of sleeping, a kind of stealth mission to try and get to sleep as fast as bloody possible. I mean, a deep, full snore-only-waking-from-apnea-but-no-idea-you-do kind of sleep. This is a skill that requires the right amount of gin and would be far easier if one could still buy Codeine over the counter. I have yet to master it however.
I awoke last night to the toddler in the middle of the bed slowly kicking me in the back and sighing deeply as it looked at the ceiling.
“Sup?” I asked when I met its gaze.
My reply was a large sigh and it promptly rolled over and grabbed a boob in its strong little fists, pulled and stretched it to its gaping maw, clamped on and sent itself back off to sleep in a slurping, gulping chaos. So, now that I was awake, I had the trauma of trying to go back to sleep while wondering what the time was and how long it would be before the toddler woke up again. Then there was the little voice reminding me about the bills that needed to be paid. You know, horrible adult stuff. When everything starts to become something other that what you believed it to be.
The toddler did have some mad moments yesterday where it decided it could only enter doors backward. On its bum and backward. I wasn’t even surprised by this. It felt normal. Today however, this behaviour has been forgotten or put away for a time. I have no idea. But it does like to say it’s pooed when it hasn’t. It’s an attention thing. But it’s easy to tell when it’s backing one out because the face changes to a state of betrayal and it needs to hold onto someone’s hand during the event. I’ve even seen it put its other hand on a knee during one particular tough one. It’s pretty funny to witness. But we’ve all been there.
“Puck”, is its favourite word at the moment. When it drops something it says “puck”. I keep laughing which only encourages it to say it again and then I laugh more – and so on and so forth. It’s funny because I know she’s saying a swear word but she isn’t actually saying it. She got it right on the Eurostar, or I thought she did. But her speech is clearer now so maybe I heard “puck.”.
Another one that sends me into laughter is when she says “oh tit.” That’s just funny for a bunch of reasons. It also says “balls”, if something goes awry.
Her mother says she has no idea where she gets this language from. <.< oh rly!!!
We are trying to get her to try new kinds of food as her palate is limited. But she can smash a punnet of strawberries in 27 seconds. It’s a thing to behold. A strawberry vanishes into that head at a staggering speed. It goes in like it’s on a conveyor belt and is mashed to a pulp by pure suction. I’ve never see it chew the things. But getting it to try new food is a work in progress. But hardly surprising since her mother only ate avocado, cruskits and caviar until she was 6.
Tomorrow morning, when she wakes bright and early, we spill into the car and head down the coast so she can see her nannytier. We attempted to go tonight but the screaming was going to shatter the windows along with my nerves. She decided that being strapped in a car seat was for wankers, and did her level best to escape and mind-melt me into a blithering mess.
FUN FACT: She’s now started to write. She can draw the letter ‘A’ like a boss.
Until the next installment…
Danny Matier 