Well that was a long time to leave you with a nauseating post. Turns out that staying up and working to 2am 5 or 6 days a week don't leave much time for... er... anything really.
I was going to write about the little opening ceremony we went to for Brixton's fancy new square but I lack the motivation to get the pictures off my camera. Instead, I am going to write about the flip-side of parenting, the dark side of my little spud-u-like, the side we've been seeing for a few days now.
It starts, this slide into the netherworld, with a bad night. Perhaps he had a nightmare, perhaps a cough... whatever it is, if he has to get up early the next day, he's guaranteed to be in the sort of mood which involves the phrase 'I don't want to'; as in 'I don't want to get up'; 'I don't want to get dressed'; 'I don't want to eat breakfast'; 'I don't want to go to nursery'.
Eventually of course, he does all those things.
Recently he's taken to wanting me to pull him home from nursery on his scooter which does my back in. On a bad day, if I refuse he whinges all the way home. 'It's too difficult'; 'I'm too heavy'; 'I don't want to' or more accurately 'I'm too difficult!'
Today was bad. He screamed blue murder all the way up our quiet street. I offered to carry his scooter, I held his hand, I walked 3 feet in front encouraging him to follow, I stopped, I pushed him gently from behind thinking it would be fun... this is what it sounded like to the neighbours: 'No, Mummy! No, Mummy! Not like that! Don't go far away Mummy! Don't leave me! Don't Stop! You're pushing me down! You're pushing me down!'
We got to our front steps and he refused to walk up, instead lying down on the wet pavement, sobbing at the top of his lungs. I tried to pick him up and he flopped. I practically had to stuff him into the house.
Within seconds of getting inside he was happily demanding pasta and turning on the Wii. I was at the window, nervously waiting for child services to show up.
Inevitably the day closed to a familiar sound-track: 'I don't want to habba bath'; 'I don't want to wear my jamas'; ' 'I don't want to go to bed'.
Eventually, of course, he did all those things.
The key word here is 'eventually' as it takes a lot of negotiation to get him to stay in bed and even then he can remain defiant until the last: