From the mouth of the babe

Emerging from the babble are real and actual words. Usually just one at a time, but there is a self belief written all over her face as she looks you in the eye, grabs your nose in a killer grip, and says 'Mouth'. Or points to the sky and says 'Boat.' Up until now we have had names, and the two most useful words in the world - 'More' and 'NO'. I say 'Have you had enough?' and she says. 'No. More. K?" She has recently added the opposite of 'more ' which is 'Nuff', but it is not usually used in conjunction with food - rather if she is being bear hugged by her brother she yells out 'NUFF!' Each word is a complete sentence with full stop. This is an example of a conversation we might have. A: 'EreeDada?' (she uses sign language of hands palm upwards for where is..) Me: He's at work. A. Work. Me: He's gone to work in the car. A: Car. Me: He's gone to work in the blue car. A. Blue. Like a little computer she absorbs the data and spits it out the other end. I'm not the only one she copies, as I found out a few days ago. We were leaving the Polling Booth, and she turned and waved at the nice polling lady who'd given her a sticker - 'Bye Bye. See-ya. Poo Bum.'

Testosterone Surges

Beware the 4 and half year old boy. This is the age of the testosterone surge, which in Little brothers case means lots of fighting games, poo jokes, increased appetite and crazily physical behaviour. The best remedy is an older brother to wrestle with and be put into place by (although I admit, there needed to be a bit of fore-planning there, but other 4 year olds also fit the bill). Its this age that people start commenting about how their 4 year old is 'really really ready to start school'. Usually when they get to school they settle down but, it can be a sprint for the those gates on the day of their fifth birthday. I have mixed feelings as little Brother approaches school. He is ready in the 6-weetbix-a-day-testosterone-wrestling-poo-joke sense, but I will miss being around for his particular wisdom and thoughtful insights into the world. For example we were watching a disabled man get out of his car with two walking aids. 'Why do people use poles when there is no snow?' he mused. At play centre he has had a burst of creativity involving mixed media collage. He isn't one to go along with the planned activity - he's into layers and layers of paper and glue, sellotaping toothpaste boxes onto pieces of paper, and random collections of objects glued painted and glittered. Its a play centre philosophy to never ask a child ' is that a picture of a tree?' but rather to ask 'tell me about your picture'. It means the child has free range imagination wise and never feels that their picture has to conform to someone else's idea of 'what it should look like'. Its certainly not going to be like that at school, where peer pressure (to conform in lots of ways) will be a prevalent experience. But enough maudling, I am going to make the most of my time with him over the next 6 months and commit to a few wrestling matches myself. I am excited for his big step into the world of education, and for the school to be gaining such a amazing individual. They will all no-doubt love his bottom-inspired humour and his insightful commentary of the world.

Terrible Twos meets The devil wears Prada

I was trying to explain Little Miss Nearly 2's unreasonable behaviour to the boys, as she screamed and wailed at the injustice of not being able to have 6 teaspoons of sugar on her porridge. "She has just worked out that she has her own thoughts and opinions, and she doesn't have to do what anyone asks anymore!" God help us. With a screech like a banshee and more than her fair share of determination she is the poster girl for Independence. She is sweet as sugar and spice most of the time, but once she sets her mind to something (like getting the toy the boy was playing with), its time to call in the UN Peace keeping force (aka Mum). The words are just starting to explode like rapid fire out of her super-charged toddler brain, and although they get pretty mangled by the unpractised speaking apparatus, they are all there - 'Share!' she told her Grandmother, when she spotted her with the chocolate. She talks in full ernest-faced sentences but they are completely untranslatable. Single word commands are her favourite way of ruling the universe. 'No' gets used even for yes, 'Stop' is useful for the boys, 'Mine!' is ever-popular, and she is cunning enough to understand the benefits of a sweet smile and sticky 'Please'. She also can spot 'lowas' (flowers) and knows her fashion. 'Itty', she says as she points to her favourite bright sparkly top (pretty!). The other day I was looking in my drawer, and she came to help. 'Itty' she pointed to a red cardigan. 'I was looking for this', I said, pulling out a blue t-shirt and putting it on. She frowned, looking confused. 'Dadda?' she asked. 'No, its mamma's' I said. She looked back at her choice, pulled it out of the drawer and pushed it at me ' Itty. Itty. ITTY!' she yelled. I put it on. 'Itty.' she said with unmistakeable air of 'I told you so' and stomped off. I was stunned and secretly thrilled with the knowledge that someone in this house is going to notice what I wear! She loves to be helpful (very different from the boys at that age who spent alot of time taking things apart to see how many pieces they could be deconstructed into). She is the person I ask when I've lost something. She is especially good at finding shoes, not just her own, but visitors also. She gets the boys shoes in the morning and chases them around and throws them at their heads. 'UUUUs' she commands. I think the Terrible Two's is not a fair description of this age group - she is not terrible at all, she is fabulously gorgeous, but she is just dealing with the frustration of being unable to make everyone else understand that she is the centre and ruler of the Universe. It's a toddlers job, to rule the world with a screech. And the terrible part is that it is my job to teach her that the world doesn't work like that.

Not rubbing it in, but WE WON!

We are a very patriotic family. When it comes to rugby and singing the national anthem, that is. Big Brother has been learning it at school, and with all the All Black Games, there's been alot of God of Nations as favourite singing in the car. Even Little Miss not quite 2 is known to start belting out a reasonable tune with lots of haka-esque leg slapping and tongue pointing. The boys know most of the Te Reo maori and englsh versions - with a few cute mistaken words - my favourite line is 'guard pacific's triple star from the SHARKS of strife and war'. We've been flying All Blacks flags, and wearing facepaint and temporary tattoos. We certainly had a fabulous world cup, with many family visiting to stay and see the games at the Wellington Cake Tin. Big Brother was full of interesting playground statistics 'I am so freaking out!' he told us before NZ vs. France the first time, 'NZ has versed France FOUR times and France have won 3 times! I am so FREAKING out!" We've also had lots of discussions about sportsmanship - and even (finally) been able to discuss what it is to be a good winner. Hoorah!