Musings during a quiet moment.

Ben had his first immunisations yesterday.  Chloe wasn't really bothered by hers.  Ben is not Chloe.  Ben was bothered.  We saw a lot of his Angry Baby Face yesterday.  When he wasn't sleeping he was screaming.  There was no in between.  Being used to living with a 2.5yr old, I forget sometimes how different babies really are.  You can't reason with them.  You can't tell them the hurt won't last forever.  You can't offer to kiss it better (not that our 2.5yr old accepts that offer anyway - "Chloe just wait. Ouchy go away").  They feel like shit and they let you know it in no uncertain terms.  All you can do is soothe them as best you can, even if that isn't very much.  I have to get used to feeling that little bit more helpless some of the time again.  And I definitely need to get used to having a red-faced baby screaming in my face, because from his behaviour the last few days, I think it's going to be a regular occurrence.   

He started out relatively low-maintenance.  I say relatively because really, all babies are hard work, even the "easy" ones.  His maintenance levels have increased though, significantly so in the last week.  But time flies and babies change.  That's the one thing you can rely on.  It won't last forever, they will grow and they will change.  This knowledge is a double edged sword.  During the tough times you repeat it like a mantra, "This won't last forever.  This won't last forever."  During the good times, you hold your child close in wonderment  that you created this amazing being and you push that thought from your mind because the knowledge is too painful.  This won't last forever.  

One of my babies has already gone from this:

to this:

I can't even imagine what's in store for us with this little guy.

Babies in bags.

 Baby 1

Baby 2

I think Ben is a little bit ahead at this stage...

She is out-thinking us already. We're screwed.

Around Christmas time Alex and Chloe were in the kitchen deciding what to have for breakfast one morning.  Chloe wanted to have a mince pie.  Alex wasn't so keen on that idea, much to Chloe's confusion.  

Chloe (said very insistently):  Chloe want mince pie for breakfast.

Alex:  Let's have something else Chloe, maybe you can have a mince pie later.  I'll think about it.  Maybe yes, maybe no.  

Chloe (nodding):  Yes, Dad think about it.  Then Dada choose Yes!

**********

Chloe was sitting on the floor in the living room with coloured pencils strewn around her.  She was methodically picking a pencil up, examining it, then snapping off the tip.

Me:  Chloe, don't break the tips off of all the pencils, please.

Chloe:  Chloe not breaking all the pencils.  Chloe breaking some of the pencils. 

Well, okay then.  

**********

 

Alex and Chloe were in the living room playing with a small wooden Pinocchio toy that was given to her by a lovely friend of mine.  Alex would hide him somewhere in the room and Chloe would find him.  This was a very fun game, so fun that she was in no mood to stop playing it when bath time came around.  Alex attempted some adult cunning.  Alex held Pinocchio up to his ear and pretended to listen for a moment.

Alex:  Chloe, Pinocchio says it is time for a bath!  Let's go to the bathroom and get in!

Chloe walked over to Alex, took hold of Pinocchio and held him to her ear for a moment, listening. 

Chloe:  No, Pinocchio say he hide more!  

Our two and a half year old is using our own tricks against us already.  We are doomed.    

**********

I present to you, "Shoes in Bag"

I'm cooking dinner in the kitchen one evening when Chloe wanders in and starts poking around in the laundry alcove, or the Spider Room as she calls it.  So named because a large house spider lived in a corner of the ceiling in there for a few days.  It is also where we store all our left-over grocery bags.  Chloe spies the bags, she pauses in front of them.  She stares at them for a second and I swear I can almost see a little light bulb pop into existence over her head as she announces, brightly, "Chloe put shoes in bags!"

She pulls an armful of bags from the holder and trots out of the kitchen into the hallway.  I hear the hallway cupboard door open.  I hear the rustling of bags and lots of thud-thud-thuds as she rummages about.  Chloe is quite a literal person.  Her toys are named Big Black Woof, Big Brown Woof, Yellow Dog, Kitty Cat, Small Black Woof, Monkey, Cow, Dolly, and Mousey to name just a few.  So it isn't hard for me to surmise that a game called Shoes in Bags is probably going to result in finding footwear in bags.

I go to have a look.  I'm not surprised at what I see.  Stage One had involved sweeping all the footwear off of the shelves and onto the floor, thus explaining the earlier thudding.  

    

The second and final stage, which he is in the process of carrying out, involves placing said footwear into the bags, usually keeping each pair together.  She is nothing if not organised.  

Working away....

More bags are fetched as needed.

Et Voila!  The goal is achieved.  All the shoes are in bags!

Now I get to clean it all up.