Thursday, August 28, 2008

...this little piggy

Each day in this wonderful world of motherhood, my son gives me a little present. Or, at least, that's how I like to view these things. Sometimes, it's a raisin from his snack bowl. Sometimes, it's a new word. Sometimes it's a little kiss. Recently, it's been a smack on the back of the head. Giftwrapped, of course, with a giggle, although I do rather wish it had been bubble wrap.

It's all change with the spud at the moment as we are moving him on from his childminder who, lovely though she is, is being targeted by her crack-addict neighbour and we suddenly didn't feel quite so comfortable dropping off our little bean at her house. I know, I paint a lovely picture of Brixton normally but these things happen. She is hopefully receiving some support from social services who have been dragging their heels for months however, currently our little bear is with an interim minder and shortly after that will be enrolling in a new nursery.

The new minder is also very lovely and has the added bonus of looking after one of spud's very best friends - however somewhere along the line this little angel began a hitting phase and the spud is very keen to emulate her, resultantly blows are raining down all over the place these days and one can't sit still without coming under serious threat of a beating. He hasn't quite got the hang of the whole hitting thing though. Apart from the fact he hits like a girl (well, he has learned from one), he seems to think that hitting is supposed to be a gleeful romp through joysville and will happily squeeze behind one on the sofa and administer a light but regular whopping to squeals of laughter, until he is forcibly removed from one's vicinity. If he could concentrate on my shoulder muscles I wouldn't mind so much but the arc of his swing lands on one's kidneys and so for now, he Must Be Stopped.

It's not all S&M round here though. He's very in to being clean and spends significant amounts of time tiptoing on his little step in the bathroom, washing his hands. He wipes down tables and can spend a happy 10 minutes brushing his teeth while sitting on his potty. To add to this, recently we've had a whole slough of new words. Not that he's going to be giving his friend Einstein a run for his money any day soon but there are new nouns entering his vocabulary all the time. Today it was 'stairs' ('dair'), yesterday it was door ('door' unnervingly), he said 'car-key' with deep joy today and he's managed 'boo' for 'blue' as well.

This last was because he can't yet say 'nail polish' so he opened the bathroom cabinet and stood in front of it pointing at the bottle and saying 'boooo.... Mummy.... boooo.... Mummy BOOO! BOOO!' until I took down the bottle of blue nail varnish and, er, touched up his toes. Well, they were getting a little chipped. I tried to only do one but after I did it he pointed at the next one and the next one and... the note from his childminder on Tuesday read 'Charlie didn't want to get his hands dirty painting'; Wednesday it read 'Charlie planted a seed but he didn't like getting his hands dirty and today, it read 'Charlie didn't want to get his hands dirty playing with the clay so he showed the others his toes while they played'.

Oh yes, no problems with my son.


DJ Kirkby said...

N3S loves to have his nails painted! When we told him he could not wear it to school he was NOT best pleased.

D-HOR said...

He's clean and likes to be pretty, maybe it's just a Metrosexual phase. Thank Gawd he's also going through a hitting phase, that's manly enough to even out any girlief tendancies.

Naw, just playing of course, but hey the not wanting to get dirty this is pretty cool, he doesn't eat really super messy and with his hands then right? Like, he doesn't smear sauce all over the place and such?

My mom paints her dogs fingernails and they're boys.

Okay, I have nothing of use to say today, I'm off - good luck with those head injuries, I hope she doesn't teach him how to hit with heavy objects. :P

Elsie Button said...

ooohhh i can so relate to all of this (apart from the crack-addict targeting - SCARY). This hitting thing - when they are taught to do it by another child - it really really annoys me (the other child that is, not betty)

Great with the words too! Betty doesn't even call me mummy yet.

Jonny's Mommy said...

Yeah, seriously...what is up with the hitting thing and then giggling like it was the funniest thing EVER.

It's not funny when mommy is bleeding from the mouth. No. Not funny AT ALL. Bloody steal a phrase from the Brits.

The other day it was a toy hammer to the knee and then...a hand across the face?! What the heck? How about an adult hand across the butt..maybe a cure?

Instead I just put him to bed, much to his anger. Oh well...

Michelle said...

My youngest loves to pull hair. His sister, who adores him, can't stand it when he does this. Whenever he does, she usually yells NO at the top of her lungs and then walks away. He still does it. I don't know what the solution is! I hope this "phase" passes quickly, for the spud and my youngest!

Sparx said...

DJ - why not? Did they say no? Spoilsports!

D-Hor - Metrosexual! Well, he can be whatever he likes. And you're right, he's not messy with food eitherm, never has been.

Elsie - it is annoying, but then the other child is a good friend... not sure where she got it from though, think we'll put the blame there instead of on her!

JM - bleeding from the mouth? Toy hammer to the knee? You have patience, my girl!

Michelle - I hope so too, poor you! Spud is pulling my hair too but so far only in fun...

DJ Kirkby said...

'Even the girls are not allowed to wear makeup' (not that N3S's school can be accused of gender sterotyping or anything...)

Jen said...

Hee, Hee. We are training Dylan to smack us on our backs, but instead of a massage, it feels more like a WWF smackdown!
Hey, I'm guest posting on Motherscribe today, come by if you can and leave me a comment!

Sparx said...

DJ - oh, well in THAT case...

Jen - cool, coming on by!

ilana (Helen) Pengelly said...

Toddlers and hitting............what a lot of memories you've sparx'd. Too long to leave in comments so check my blog for the post!

The Good Woman said...

Well it was BLUE nail varnish - that must count for something in the gender stereotype scene...

aoc gold said...

Where Go The Boats?


Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand.

It floats along forever,

With trees on either hand.

Green leaves a-floating,

Castles of the foam,

Boats of mine a-floating

Where will all come home?

On goes the river

And out past the mill,

Away down the valley,

Away down the hill.

Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children

Shall bring my boats ashore.
-----by aoc