Baby Bore
« Previous EntriesAll boys here, as if I needed reminding
Sunday, March 25th, 2007‘Mummy, I got poo in my pants,’ William says accusingly as if it is my fault.
‘What happened?’ I ask absentmindedly, as if I didn’t already know. I’m concentrating on getting breakfast on the table. It takes a great deal of effort to think about anything before my first cup of coffee.
‘DO NOT throw them on the rug,’ I shout suddenly as I remember he is getting dressed. Which usually involves getting entirely undressed and running about the house naked for five minutes first.
Harry pipes up in his teacher’s voice. ‘I’ll tell you what happened, Bubby. You were in bed this morning and you decided to have a fart and, well, you…. wait for it, Bubby…. you FOLLOWED THROUGH.’
‘Followed through?’ William screeches, rolling around on the floor with the hilarity of this thought.
I sigh. It’s not even seven o’clock in the morning and already this house full of boys is reduced to joking about bodily functions.
While watching the movie Along Came Polly last week I learnt the correct term for follow-through farting which is, of course, ’sharted’.
Although I don’t think I’ll be teaching my children that word any time soon.
Subscribe Via Email OR
Subscribe Via RSS
OR
5 Comments »
Posted in Baby Bore
Capitalism is alive and well amongst the four year old set
Sunday, June 18th, 2006It is becoming increasingly clear that I am no longer the sole influence on my eldest son. Whilst I know this is inevitable, not to mention right and proper, I harbour a wish for all my children to grow up to be kind, tolerant and open-minded and therefore I preach, and of course always practice, those tenets in the hope that they will grow up thus. Except actually I cannot be kind or tolerant or open-minded when my children throw their peel-me-off-the-floor-I-dare-you tantrums, nor when ALL FOUR BOYS (EVEN THE BABY) piss all over the floor when peeing, nor before my first coffee in the morning, nor when… wait, I digress.
This evening this little gem uttered forth from his four year old, otherwise angelic mouth at suppertime:
William, the inquisitive younger brother, a propos of nothing: Are the men in the yellow shoes big men, Mummy?
Me, puzzled: I’m not sure who you mean, what men in yellow shoes?
William, referring to a toy lego airport set: The airport men, Mummy, accompanied by a sigh, KEEP UP MOTHER.
To which Harry replies tutting: Oh Bubby, they’re not the big men. Important men, they wear dark shoes. The men in yellow shoes, well, they’re just the workers.
My egalitarian, classless teachings blown apart in one fell swoop by, I presume, some little all-knowing darling in the pre-school playground. Is four too young to launch into an explanation of the problems of capitalism and the oppression of the underclasses? Or if I ignore it - because I am too bloody tired to challenge the prevailing world view, particularly as I will be answered simply with “Why?” over and over - am I just reinforcing his views?
But more worryingly, what next? A critique of feminism at breakfast?
Subscribe Via Email OR
Subscribe Via RSS
OR
10 Comments »
Posted in Worrying About Society, Parenting, Baby Bore
Where did my sweet baby go?
Friday, April 14th, 2006Harry, my four year old who is DEFINITELY ready for big school, to younger brother William: ‘I’m going to tell you a story Bubby. Once upon a time there were two little boys called William and Ben and one day they were playing in the field and they went on to the train track and a train came and squashed them.’
Me, reproachfully: ‘Oh Harry, that’s not very nice, why don’t you tell a story about your brothers playing on their bikes instead. That would be better.’
Harry: ‘Okay Mummy. Bubby, once upon a time there were two little boys called William and Ben and one day they were playing ON THEIR BIG BLUE BIKES and they went on to the train track and a train came and squashed them.’
Oh yes, definitely not a baby any more.
Subscribe Via Email OR
Subscribe Via RSS
OR
4 Comments »
Posted in Baby Bore
How to shame me into realising I don’t clean often enough
Thursday, November 17th, 2005Harry, my astute three year old, on returning from pre-school: “Mummy, it’s all so brand new in here. What happened?”
(I vacuumed.)
Subscribe Via Email OR
Subscribe Via RSS
OR
Comments Off
Posted in Baby Bore
Hairy scary
Sunday, November 6th, 2005It’s pretty difficult reaching my legs to keep them smooth and hair-free at this stage of the pregnancy. Still, it was only when my son pushed his Thomas the Tank Engine up my trousers (pants) and then paused, slowly lifting the material so it rested above my knee and said with some uncertainty “Mummy, is that a beard?” that I knew I REALLY needed to get my legs waxed.
Subscribe Via Email OR
Subscribe Via RSS
OR
Comments Off
Posted in Baby Bore
« Previous Entries