Loser.

I'm having an argument with 4yo about something at the shops. This is normal. The argument continues all the way out to the car. This is normal. I tell her that if she does not cooperate and sit in her car seat straight away I will lose my temper. Also normal. I give her reports about my escalating temper so that when I really do lose it she's had plenty of warning. Normal, normal, normal.

"I'm going to lose my temper if you don't stop asking about this."
"I can't get you want straight away so if you keep shouting at me I will lose my temper do you want that?"
"You're really on thin ice now mate, you will regret it if I lose my temper."

4yo sighs, shoves her bottom into the seat, complies with the seat belt procedure and as I'm clipping her in mutters, "Loser."

She might as well have made the 'L' shape with her thumb and forefinger her tone was so derogatory. This is so funny coming from an angry four year old that I nearly fell backwards out of the car laughing. But because she'd been so rude that wasn't aloud and I had to buckle myself up and wait until my voice was steady before I could give her the lecture. The one where this isn't a nice thing to say to someone and what do if someone says that to her... bla... bla... I'm pretty sure she listened to the first few words of it.

To her credit, she got into the car without a fuss in the end. After all, this loser Mummy is quite scary when her temper is the thing she loses!

Poem for my daughter on a hot sunny day.

Ode to my little daughter, who never seems to be able to stay dressed when at home. We made this one up tryin' to stay cool in the paddlin' pool.

My toddler is lovely when she’s naked and cuddly,
but things can get freaky when she’s naked and cheeky.

Times can be bad when she’s naked and sad,
and she don’t give a toss when she’s naked and cross.

Things can get hairy when she’s naked and scary,
but she needs loads of care when she’s naked and scared.

And when the day’s hot and the clothes all come off,
what is the bet, she’ll be naked and wet?

Ask a silly question...

12yo got a questionnaire from his future high school today. One of the questions was: What do you want to get out of Year 7?

His off-the-cuff answer?

"More than I put into it."

12yo is home alone....

...so being the worrying type, I call him to see what he's up to. I worry less that he's going to get into trouble and more that he'll spend all day on the couch with the play station.

Me: "Have you been outside today?"

12yo: "No, but I've spent some time playing in my bedroom with my axe."

Oh well THAT's ok then.

Ode to strategy computer games for kiddies.

My 11yo has picked up a book of myths and legends that I used to love as a child *thrilled*.

When he told me that it was really great, and I mentioned that we'd tried to get him interested a while ago but maybe he was too little he replied:

"Mum, that was before I had Age of Mythology."

How am I supposed to complain about all his screen time now?

Toddler Twister

Today 2yo composed a song. There was one verse, "Daddy's not afraid of Mummy any moooore!!" She accompanied herself on the ukulele and had the rest of us in fits of laughter. We have NO idea where the words came from. Daddy is not owning up to anything anyway.

Later on we had an activity conundrum.

2yo: "I want to do painting?"

Bad Mummy: "No, it's too late for painting, you can do drawing or play dough."

2yo: Thinks. "Pasting!"

Bad Mummy: "No, you can do drawing or play dough."

2yo: "Pasting!"

Bad Mummy: "Drawing or play dough."

2yo: Thinks. "Drawing WITH play dough!"

So that's what we're doing. She's going to show me how.

From the 11yo yesterday:

About toy weapons that are not sharp enough to be dangerous:

"Mum, if I'm going to have to use my imagination with these things I need a bit of realism."

Nostalgia:

"Do you remember back when we could have water pistols?"

That last one made me a bit sad. Highlights of my childhood include running under the sprinkler on hot days. On especially good days there'd be a big gang of kids with water pistols and water bombs. My children of the drought have been denied the simple pleasure of blasting away at each other with drinking water. Last year, we experienced the equivalent of a Brisbane summer storm during a BBQ with family friends at our house. You should have seen the kiddies, they were so excited! We laughed at them and teased them: "You'd think you'd never seen rain before!" It turns out they hadn't. Not like that anyway.

Then again, when I was a kid computer games were pixelated bleeps and CGI wasn't. You can't have everything.

The Odd Sock Solution

Today my 11yo helped with the laundry. I told him to get all the dirty clothes out of his room and into the wash, when they were dry, he helped fold. Laundry is so much nicer with company, I find.

Now, I fold with an Odd Sock basket alongside; any sock that doesn't immediately pair up goes straight in and every now and then I go through it and find matches. Today, after a matching session we were left with no less than 35 odd socks, some of them dating back to when 11yo was four. Being the inventive type, he suggested some ways to solve our odd sock syndrome:

1) A Chameleon Sock
This sock could be paired with any other sock, and during its sojourn in the sock drawer it would gradually take on the colour and texture of the odd sock and voila! A pair of socks! The chameleon sock would revert to its distinctive state after washing.

Apparently though, that is too slow, so...

2) The Magic Sock
This sock simply automatically matches whatever other sock you happen to have on. When I asked why we couldn't just have all magic socks he said that magic socks were REALLY expensive, so nobody could afford to have more than one.

But the master solution is best...

3) The One Sock to Rule Them All
A master sock must be created. One sock to rule them all, one sock to bind them, one sock to wear them all, and in the crevices find them. So whoever had the master sock, could locate and pair all the lost and odd socks of the world. Maybe, the owner of the master sock could sell the paired socks back to their owners... or conquer earth with a Lost Sock Army. We were fuzzy on the details...

Afterwards, I followed him back to his room to help him tidy it and found no less than 13 socks just lying around, four of which belonged to his toddler sister.

It's quite possible that the Odd Sock Solution is to have the 11yo fitted for some glasses.