For the sake of all the small children in the world who are looking forward to waking on christmas day to a bulgy sack of pressies, I am glad my two boys are not Santas little helpers. They are Mumma's Little Helpers, and aren't they just such a help.
Little Brother has been helping me cook. By licking handfuls of cocoa off the floor. Where it fell while he was raiding the cupboard, perched on tippy toes on the box of beer he'd tipped over, while trying to reach the Milo tin. Who's lid fell off also. He stopped eating cocoa and went for the milo.
Another time he was helping me make my annual white chocolate christmas-only cheese cake for the big X-day.( Its only a yearly occasion cause its so yummy I'd eat so much I could audition for the next Kung Fu Panda movie. Once I'd trained to do Kung Fu.)
So both boys like to operate the kichen whizz, which is typical for them in being intrigued by the toolkit more than the actual cooking. With only 3 buttons on the machine its pretty safe to put them onto ON/OFF duties. Little Brother however, decided to help with the adding ingredients bit, so while I had my back turned popped in to the mixture what he could reach - the foil top from a cream cheese packet, the lid of the machine (upside down). And a teaspoon...which I only discovered after fishing the other objects out, and turning the motor on. CRRuuunnncch.
Big Brother is very helpful. When bribed. Occasionally he goes for gold, like today when he tidied a glass jar off an outdoor table by throwing it onto the concrete. Thanks dear. To be fair he is an ace egg cracker, and even fishes out the pieces of rogue shell.
They are great little helpers and like to help their Mumma. Copying is such a huge method of learning, however it makes me a little nervous when I see my LB at 18 months get a beer out of the fridge, find the right tool out of the draw, and start bashing the bottle top with the opener. When the coast is clear he grabs the BBQ slice and heads out to the patio. And he loves to get a knife from the draw and try and pry open the cupboards (who on earth did he learn that one off?)
I love letting them have a go, and try to be positive about the resulting mess. I can only imagine what carnage it would be to let them loose in Santa's workshop. Lucky you Santa. But believe me, they have been very good (helpful) boys this year.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Dot Dot
"OOh look boys....whats out there on the lawn????... a series of little brown packages on the lawn/stones/deck!!! ...ohh do you think santa's been past for a quick reccie and the reindeer left us a clue???.."
Ah, sorry, no. Actually it is the gift that keeps on giving this christmas - the 18month old who's decided to toilet train himself.
He's always had a sly fascination of the smallest room in the house and now he' s a big dot-dot (transl. toilet) man.
First thing in the morning...we hear him yell ' DOT DOT' and up we leap to take him for his 'wee' sit. And then everytime he feels like a 'Loll-Loll' (lolly) throughout the day he manages to squeeze one out.
As a cloth warrior mum every nappy I don't have to scrub is a joy (bless his cotton socks) and we are of course very proud of him being so well, darned advanced. But....it's the other presents we find everywhere that are rather trying. Like the 'reindeer' droppings on the lawn. And quite a few other places I won't describe incase our landlord reads this! Subsequently we are spending a lot of time reading stories in the little room, hoping to catch 'it', and train 'it' through masses of praise, silly songs and confectionery. I think at his age the spirit is willing, but his little brain doesn't quite translate the warning signs in time.
(Apologies for the theme tonight, but it is a truth universally acknowledged among those like myself who have worked in care of the elderly, that if the bowels aren't working, then nothing else happens. And on the other end of the scale, just ask any mothers groups what their number 1 topic of conversation is. In the dawn, as well as the twilight of life, we will spend a considerable amount of time discussing 'it'.)
On that note, I'd better go check the premises for any gifts from our delightfully advanced son. I guess when it comes to early indicators of genius there is no guarantee of musical protege.
Ah, sorry, no. Actually it is the gift that keeps on giving this christmas - the 18month old who's decided to toilet train himself.
He's always had a sly fascination of the smallest room in the house and now he' s a big dot-dot (transl. toilet) man.
First thing in the morning...we hear him yell ' DOT DOT' and up we leap to take him for his 'wee' sit. And then everytime he feels like a 'Loll-Loll' (lolly) throughout the day he manages to squeeze one out.
As a cloth warrior mum every nappy I don't have to scrub is a joy (bless his cotton socks) and we are of course very proud of him being so well, darned advanced. But....it's the other presents we find everywhere that are rather trying. Like the 'reindeer' droppings on the lawn. And quite a few other places I won't describe incase our landlord reads this! Subsequently we are spending a lot of time reading stories in the little room, hoping to catch 'it', and train 'it' through masses of praise, silly songs and confectionery. I think at his age the spirit is willing, but his little brain doesn't quite translate the warning signs in time.
(Apologies for the theme tonight, but it is a truth universally acknowledged among those like myself who have worked in care of the elderly, that if the bowels aren't working, then nothing else happens. And on the other end of the scale, just ask any mothers groups what their number 1 topic of conversation is. In the dawn, as well as the twilight of life, we will spend a considerable amount of time discussing 'it'.)
On that note, I'd better go check the premises for any gifts from our delightfully advanced son. I guess when it comes to early indicators of genius there is no guarantee of musical protege.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Early Bird Phone Rates
Hurray I have finally worked out what to do with myself at 5.30am.
Little Brother has taken to waking at this middle of the night hour. We haul him into bed with us and then solidly ignore him for half an hour. He begins loudly announcing his plan for the day : starting with rollcall of 'Mama', and 'Dada', to check we haven't fallen back to sleep followed by breakfast plans ..
'yice?' (ricies)
'beetbix?' (weetbix),
'milt?' (milk)
'yurt?' (yoghurt)
'uuga' (sugar)
Eventually one of us gives in and gets up and produces a huge plateful of a mixture of the above for the little man to attack/spread over the table chairs and floor. This morning he was dressed and had finished breakfast (plus doing wees on the toilet for the first time) by 6.05am.
He merrily starts on his days work beginning by emptying the toy box and having a good brrom of the best cars before his brother gets up. But what am I supposed to do? It is still a good 2 hours away from being physiologically time to wake up.
This morning I hit upon the greatest plan...call my friends in England! It is comforting to know that somewhere in the world adults are up and functioning, albeit walking home from work in the partial darkness.
So early mornings are set to become full of christmas cheer, as I do my UK christmas cards - by phone. And perhaps a bit of early morning blogging too, although I'd better go now, it's 7.15 and Little Brother is ranscking the pantry looking for morning tea... 'Bit-bit??'
Little Brother has taken to waking at this middle of the night hour. We haul him into bed with us and then solidly ignore him for half an hour. He begins loudly announcing his plan for the day : starting with rollcall of 'Mama', and 'Dada', to check we haven't fallen back to sleep followed by breakfast plans ..
'yice?' (ricies)
'beetbix?' (weetbix),
'milt?' (milk)
'yurt?' (yoghurt)
'uuga' (sugar)
Eventually one of us gives in and gets up and produces a huge plateful of a mixture of the above for the little man to attack/spread over the table chairs and floor. This morning he was dressed and had finished breakfast (plus doing wees on the toilet for the first time) by 6.05am.
He merrily starts on his days work beginning by emptying the toy box and having a good brrom of the best cars before his brother gets up. But what am I supposed to do? It is still a good 2 hours away from being physiologically time to wake up.
This morning I hit upon the greatest plan...call my friends in England! It is comforting to know that somewhere in the world adults are up and functioning, albeit walking home from work in the partial darkness.
So early mornings are set to become full of christmas cheer, as I do my UK christmas cards - by phone. And perhaps a bit of early morning blogging too, although I'd better go now, it's 7.15 and Little Brother is ranscking the pantry looking for morning tea... 'Bit-bit??'
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