My kid is too funny

Cuddle power

2011-02-28T18:50:00.000-08:00

Alex has had asthma over the last few nights, and for the first couple of nights before the medication kicked in, he coughed all night, keeping any of us from getting much rest. There wasn't much I could do so I just lay next to him to comfort him

The next day, he turned to me out of the blue and said, "Mum, when you cuddled me in the night, it felt like a warm sheet of cotton wool."

Junior barrister-in-training

2011-02-20T18:01:00.000-08:00

Alex was originally supposed to be going off to kindergarten this year, but it didn't quite work out that way. The short story is - the orientation provoked an extreme reaction that resulted in our doing an about-face and re-enrolling him in pre-school for another year.

In my mind, he was ready for school. Socially, he gravitated towards kids who were slightly older rather than younger than him, and fit in well with this group. Academically, he would be fine. The pre-school thought so too. But, when it came to the orientation, he was completely emotionally overwhelmed by the whole experience. Afterwards, we discussed our options.

The short version went like this:

Alex: My friend has his birthday in March like me and he is turning 5 and he is going back to pre-school. So why can't I go back to pre-school too?

Me: His parents have decided to send him back to pre-school, and we've decided that you are ready for big school {explains reasons why}.

Alex: How many other 4 year old boys will there be at my school?

Me: You'll be the only 4 year old boy, but you'll turn 5 soon after school starts.

Alex: Well I think 5 days a week is too many for a 4 year old. I don't want to be the only 4 year old guy. I'll go when I'm 5 turning 6 not 4 turning 5.

Me: {after quite a bit more debate} OK.

Fast forward to this week, and all is going well. Alex is confident in our decision to continue with pre-school and not lamenting the fact that he sees other kids rocking up for school across the road from our house.

After a lovely trip to the park wherein Alex helped and encouraged Maya a great deal, I thanked and congratulated him on the care he had shown her.

Alex: So who was right?

Me: What do you mean?

Alex: Well, if I had gone to school this year, 5 days a week, we wouldn't have had this nice day would we? I thought I shouldn't go, and you thought I should. So who was right?

Me: Well I still think you would have been ok, Alex, but we'll never know, and yes, you were right that you are doing well now.

Alex: So, was I right? And you were wrong.

Me: {a bit more to-ing and fro-ing before finally} OK. You were right.

Now to work on softening this obession with right-and-wrong, black-and-white thinking...plenty of time for the barrister training!

Santa Claus and all that BS

2010-12-01T02:15:00.000-08:00

Alex seems to oscillate between getting really into the whole Santa deal and asking pointy questions poking holes in the logic of the whole charade.

Example 1

Alex, after being told by some well-wisher that if he wasn't a good boy Santa wouldn't bring him any presents: "Mum, last year when I was 3, we shouted at each other" (note the use of 'we', hence only partial responsibility taken for bad behaviour) "and I still got presents. So, even if you're naughty sometimes, you still get them right?" *raises eyebrows pointedly*

Example 2

After pondering for a while in the car: "Mum, you know how superheroes are pretend? Well then how can Santa be real? Because it's really the same kind of thing." *raises eyebrows questioningly*

Example 3

Further to example 1: "What happens to the kids in my pre-school who are bullies? Will they not be getting any presents?"

But then, when I've tap-danced my way around these curly ones ( sample responses include 'Santa prefers you to be as good as you can'; 'you'll find the present quality is better, the more of an effort you make to be good'; 'it's really about the effort, he'll know if you haven't been trying to be good' and 'people believe different things about Santa, just like they do about God, it's a personal choice in a way, you can choose what you want to believe until you find out otherwise') -

BAM - he starts explaining the Christmas myth to Maya in no uncertain terms. "Maya, the Santa in the shops is not real. He's a man dressed in a Santa costume. Only the real Santa is real." and "Mum maybe the elves are pretend, just guys in costumes, but only Santa is real?" and "are these lollies brought to us by Santa? Because they've got his picture on them."

I reckon it's partly wilful suspension of disbelief on his part - we all do it in movies, why can't a 4 year old do it with Santa? Possibly a dash of willingness/ desire to believe. I hope he can get a bit of magic out of life without needing to dissect the cold hard facts at every opportunity. Especially at the age of 4. In some ways I think his willingness to suspend disbelief in spite of compelling evidence to the contrary shows he is more of a dreamer than the kids who just buy the whole thing unquestioningly. Who knows, underneath his engineer-like surface, maybe he'll be a romantic yet.

The meaning is clear

2010-10-21T03:28:00.000-07:00

Tonight I got an explanation from Alex about what Uncle Ben meant when he said "With great power comes great responsibility."

It means: "You need to help people and share things and not be a thieve."

Cool. That sorts it out then.

With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility

2010-10-17T20:46:00.000-07:00

Alex hasn't watched the M-rated Spiderman for about 6 months. We had let him watch bits of it under supervision for a while, but the boundaries kept getting pushed back and it became a bit hard to police. After a spurt of what we saw as possible 'copycat' behaviour we realised that a blanket ban was called for.

Alex took it pretty well, all things considered. He likes to know where he stands and is a rules boy, after all. When we explained the ratings system - that M-rated things are only for grown-ups, PG is for older kids if their parents say yes, and G is for any one - he seemed fine with it. We also described in some details the reasons why M rated things were for adults, namely that they showed bombs, guns and other stuff that could give kids nightmares, or stuff that kids would find boring or wouldn't be able to understand easily.

He then proceeded to find a loophole in the system by locating the one Spiderman cartoon DVD that is in fact G-rated (even though it features a scary-looking baddie called Venom). We've let him watch it on occasion until such time as his behaviour indicates it's not doing him any favours. He displayed a remarkable understanding of the ratings system recently by commenting, "Mum, I don't know why this Spiderman cartoon is G. It's got lots of bombs and fighting and things. It really should be PG at least." I asked him if he thought that meant he should stop watching it, and he assured me that, no, it was ok, he could handle it.

Recently we went out and my mum came over to baby-sit. Alex, like the cat that ate the canary, convinced her to let him watch some of the M-rated Spiderman while we were out. I can imagine his saucer-like eyes and the illicit thrill of getting away with something so devious!

When we came home and it was revealed that Nan had allowed him to watch it, Nan and Alex were each quick to point the finger at each other. Nan claimed Alex had told her he was allowed to watch it. Alex just shrugged and said "Well YOU let me."

Today he further emphasised his point by commenting, "Nan is the grown-up and I am the kid. The grown-up gets to say yes or no if a kid can watch something or not. Nan said I could. If she didn't want me to she should have said no."

He also told me that Peter Parker's Uncle Ben says "With great power comes great responsibility." I asked him if he knew what that meant. His eyes glinted. "Yes" he replied, "but I'm not telling you right now."

I guess I'll just have to wait to find out.

Master negotiator

2010-09-23T16:22:00.000-07:00

This morning Alex had two pieces of toast with honey for breakfast. Then he asked for a bowl of Weet Bix. One bite into the Weet Bix and he wanted two more pieces of toast. I was reluctant to make them as I thought his eyes were getting too big for his belly so I said that once he had finished the Weet Bix, I would make the toast.

"No mummy," he said, remaining calm and rational (not the "noooooo!" whine I had expected), " I do need the toast to be in front of me at the same time as the Weet Bix. I just do."

I repeated that I didn't want him to run out of space and waste food.

"I promise you," he assured me, "It won't be wasted. Mummy, I still love you but I'm not happy about this. I really want you to make me the toast now. Please." I could see him mustering the strength to control himself as he looked at me plaintively.

I suppressed a smile and agreed to make the toast. I wanted to trust his judgement and reward him for asking in such a polite way instead of whinging. I figured if he then wasted the toast, my point about not wasting food would be made for future reference. But do you know what? He ate the whole thing.

Evidence-based approach

2010-09-23T16:16:00.001-07:00

Alex is nothing if not concrete in his thinking. After breaking his leg and having it in a CAM boot for 3 weeks, I told him that he could bear weight on it as long as it was comfortable, enough to move around and walk a bit.

He refused. Getting out of the bath he would fold the leg up like a bird with a broken wing. He insisted on being carried everywhere or he would crawl. He was just too nervous to put weight on it. I told him the doctor said it was ok to give it a try, it would be healed enough to put some weight on it by now. If he didn't find it comfortable he didn't have to do it. He shook his head. No.

"I'll wait till we get the second lot of x-rays done today, and if it looks fixed then, I'll walk on it," he declared.

And so it was that I carried him in to the specialists appointment, into a full waiting room. We had another discussion while we were waiting about maybe trying to walk a bit into the doctor's room, to show him how much better his leg was. No dice. So I carried the 21kg+ of him (as I had been doing for three weeks) into the consulting room. I actually suspected he was more than capable of walking on it, at least a bit, but I knew better than to force the issue with Alex, and besides, publicly admonishing a boy with a broken leg to walk might have looked a bit suss. The doctor showed him the x-ray and assured him it was ok to walk on it.

Imagine the amusement in the waiting room when, ten minutes later, the boy who had been carried in, walked out (albeit with a slight limp, but full of confidence.) That doctor is a miracle worker!

Transformers defy logic - who knew?

2010-09-23T16:12:00.000-07:00

Alex often contemplates the many absurdities of life, and, in his own time, poses a question aloud to which there really is no sensible answer.

Most recently, it was: "When a Transformer is a car, it's the size of a normal car because people drive in it. But when they turn into robots they are as big as buildings. How does that happen?"

Me: "...." (Firstly, he's never actually seen transformers as far as I know so how does he know this information? Must be from pre-school discussions. Secondly, 0_0)

A for effort

2010-08-04T05:07:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wonder whether I overdo the praise.

Alex and Maya had been colouring in. Alex, in his usual focussed style, had worked hard to get the colours correct and all his colouring in the lines. Maya, being two, had scribbled randomly across the page.

I complimented Alex on his efforts.

"Good work, Maya," I added, commenting, "You've done purple all over yours."

Alex raised his eyebrows and leaned over conspiratorially, stage whispering to me, "Maya's is not really good work, Mum. It's actually pretty messy. Are you just saying that to make her feel happy?"

"Well it is good because she's tried to do a picture that she likes, and she is only 2..." I pointed out, trying to explain that I was commenting on the effort rather than the result.

On hearing this, he leant forward again and said to Maya, "Great work, Maya, that's really good work!"

The Interview That Made Me Come Out Of Blogging Retirement

2010-07-21T03:38:00.000-07:00

When I saw the hilarious results of this interview on Bern Morley and the other greatfunnywonderful blogs (Jodie and Thea), I couldn't resist doing my own. It's kind of like the best kind of blog chainmail!

This interview took place while the kids were playing in the bath. Alex is 4yrs 4mths, Maya is 2years 2 mths (notice the nice symmetry there?) Also notice Maya gets a bit sassy which I am starting to think is more her temperament than her age...

1. What do you want to be when you grow up?

Alex: A superhero!

Maya: Cat.

2. How old are you?

A: 4

M: 1 (she has been saying this for six months. Four months ago, it was true. She hasn't caught on that 2 is the new 1)

3. How old am I?

A: 33 (correct)

M: 2 (maybe a delayed correct response to previous question? Either that or she's learning to count!)

4. How old is Dad?

A: 38

M: 8 (Ok so the counting's not going so well...)

5. What do you like most about pre-school/day care?

A: Playing with my friends

M: House. (Doesn't it make you wish you were 2 and could get away with such non-sequiturs?)

6. What do you like to do outside?

A: Run around and get pretend baddies with my friends.

M: No. House.

7. What do you like to do inside?

A: Everything. Play with robots.

M: Hello! Walking. So much.

8. What is your favourite toy?

A: Lego transformers and robots and Spiderman and a Ben 10 watch. (clearly writing his Christmas list aloud as he only actually owns one of those things)

M: Cat.

9. What is your favourite game?

A: The Ben 10 snap.

B: Jumping so higher.

10. What is your favourite TV show?

A: Spiderman and Ben 10 (again, watches neither of these)

M: Play School (good to see her comprehension of the words 'TV show' is accurate if nothing else)

11. What is your favourite movie?

A: Spiderman

M: Tinkerbell (again with the improved comprehension!)

12. What is your favourite book?

A: A Spiderman book. (Slightly disappointing given the 527 other books he owns, 236 of which are read to him nightly; but he seems to be working to a theme here)

M: Yes.

13. What is your favourite colour?

A: Red and blue and green and white and black (It's good to have options).

M: I like red.

14. What is your favourite number?

A: Let's start with letters. My favourite letter is S. My favourite number is one hundred.

M : Cat number.

15. What is your favourite food?

A: Stroganoff and spag bol.

M: Stroganoff (this is true, she would eat it for breakfast lunch and dinner if she could)

16. What is something that is really good for you?

A: Swinging on branches and things and that big spiderweb thing at the park. (well I suppose if you were Tarzan...)

M: No.

17. Who is your favourite friend?

A: Bayden and Bailey and Ky.

M: Horse eating bubbles. (this is not as esoteric as it sounds, she was playing with a horse in the bath at the time, which was indeed eating bubbles).

18. What time is bedtime?

A: 4'o'clock (yep we run a tight ship)

M: Cats. Sleeping. No not bedtime!

19. What time do you wake up?

A: 6.30 (got that right)

M: Morning. (fair call. Don't get pinned down to specifics)

20. Anything else you'd like to add?

A: Playing with Bailey's bumble bee transformer toy is actually my favourite thing.

M: I want to get out now. Myself. (tries to hoist own leg over bathtub. Interview abruptly halted).

11.

Who's The Boss Part 2

2010-06-17T15:49:00.000-07:00

I think I'll have to change the name of this blog to plural form. My Kids Are Too Funny. Maya is coming in to her own with her increasing verbal skills and is proving to be a cheeky match for her brother.

Scrambling onto her bed, she begins to jump. "Hop down please, Maya, Mummy said no jumping on the bed."

Maya (predictably so far): "No." (continues jumping).

Me, holding out my hand to help her. "Come on, Maya" (a bit more firmly now) "Mummy says no."

Maya (pausing to address me, imitating my firm tone, looking in my eyes) "Maya says yes." (continues jumping).

Who's The Boss?

2010-05-27T21:30:00.000-07:00

"Mum, can I be a mum one day when I grow up?"

Me: "No, sweetheart, but you can be a dad. Ladies are mums and men are dads."

Alex: "But I want to be a mum! Because I want to be the boss. And if I'm a dad, I'll only get to be the boss when the mum isn't there."

Fair point.

A Helping Hand

2010-05-27T21:27:00.000-07:00

I am finding four to be the most gorgeous age yet. Alex and I were colouring in side-by-side when he leaned over to check on my work. "Oh, mum, that bit you're about to colour in is pretty tricky. You need to try and make sure you don't get the colour outside of the lines. I think I'd better do that bit." And he leaned over and coloured around the fingers and thumb of the figure I was working on. "There you go!" he smiled kindly and continued with his own work.

Life in the fast lane

2010-04-22T04:18:00.000-07:00

Driving on the freeway (the F3) from Newcastle to Sydney.

Alex: "Mum, do you think if we went on a fourway or a fiveway we might get there a bit quicker?"

2010-04-15T03:42:00.000-07:00

Turning four was a much-anticipated event for Alex. He literally counted down the number of sleeps. The day dawned and went off without a hitch. From the morning present-opening, to the cake-making, to the Spiderman party in the park with his 8 friends, he loved every second of it. It made my heart glad to share in such a simple yet all-encompassing joy.

Now that he's been four for a few weeks, he throws around statements such as, "I liked that when I was 3 for a while..."
I took him to a superhero workshop at the localy Toys'R'Us last Saturday, and when the fairy lady asked him his name, he replied, "Peter Parker." She duly wrote Peter Parker on the list, and his superhero certificate was, quite aptly, awarded under this pseudonym. (Peter Parker being the alias of Spiderman, in case you were wondering). Apparently, 'Alex ' is so two weeks ago. "When I was 3, my name was Alex, "he blithely informed me today, "now I'm 4, and it's Peter Parker. I've got brown hair so every one will know it's the same guy."
It's fair to say that the Spiderman obsession is still going strong.

But Spiderman couldn't help him yesterday - the day had come for his 4year old immunisations. I'd left what I thought was a respectful distance between the actual birthday and the injections, so as not to taint his happy memories with pain. I tossed up the idea of taking him to the doctors and springing the needle on him so as not to endure the agonising lead-up, but decided that the betrayal he would feel would be too great. I broke the news as we left the house. "Come on, we're going to the doctors." His standard response: "I'm not getting a needle am I?" He has been asking this on each trip to the doctors ever since he got the swine flu injections (four weeks apart) which had followed a particularly traumatic IV insertion in hospital (the doctor took 5 attempts to insert the thing, he had to be held down). Suffice to say, he had reason to be wary, although I'd never tricked him into it.

"This time, yes we are going to get a needle, because you're four, and it's the last one for a while, and it's to stop you getting sick." I stayed calm, but he wailed the whole way to the doctors, refused to come inside for 10 minutes, and when he finally followed me in, protested, "It is SO RUDE to do this to kids!" to a packed waiting room.

Once inside the doctors rooms, Alex could take it no more and hid under a chair. At this stage Maya joined in the wailing (figuring, if you can't beat 'em...) and the doctor called his receptionist in for back-up. She later informed me that she faints at the sight of needles so was a reluctant participant. After dragging him out from under the chair, and putting him in a kind of head/arm- lock, the deed was done. Ten seconds later, with me and the doctor visibly shaken from the ordeal, Alex was munching on a Freddo and sauntering out, cool as you like. We then went to a friend's where he jumped on a trampoline for an hour and scoffed a banana. Aside from a moment where he apparently couldn't move his arms due to the soreness (which lasted around 10 seconds) it seems as though, as with many things in life, the build-up and anticipation was so much worse than the event itself.

Furry appealing

2010-03-08T18:29:00.000-08:00

For a while Alex has been campaigning for a cat. Unfortunately, there are several reasons why it's not a good idea for us to get a cat at the moment. Daddy is allergic, the kids are a bit young, we may move overseas within the cat's lifetime. None of these reasons deter Alex from his campaign.

His latest approach was as follows: "If you get me a cat, it can sleep at the end of my bed, and when I have a nightmare, it will scratch the monsters in my dreams, and I'll give it a pat, and go back to sleep. I'll never call out to you again in the night." Followed by a smile that said 'see? It's win-win.' If only the promise of more sleep weren't my achilles heel. Now what were those sound reasons for not getting a cat again?

Another small issue

2010-02-28T03:46:00.000-08:00

Maya pushed a bedroom door closed, and Alex happened to be on the other side. "Maya!" he shrieked, indignant, presuming perhaps just a smidgen too much coherence and intent on the part of his toddler sister, "Don't close that door on me! I can't open it again. Don't you know, I am not a man YET, I can't reach those door handles!"

A small issue

2010-02-28T03:45:00.000-08:00

Alex wanted to wear his Spiderman suit to the shops, just in case any one needed saving..."and if they think I'm just a little kid in a Spiderman suit, I'll tell them I'm busy growing into the REAL Spiderman!"

A particular perspective

2010-02-28T03:43:00.001-08:00

"Wow, look at that!" - Me, referring to a cat driving a car on a movie we were half-watching.

"Why's the cat driving the car the wrong way?" Alex.

Spiderman part 2

2010-02-14T18:52:00.000-08:00

I have been thinking about this marketing-to-kids and appropriate-movie-watching topic for a few days now. And what I have come up with is this: there are two separate issues at play (at least). One is my distaste at the way adult-themed (or any-themed for that matter) stuff is marketed so heavily to kids, and the other main issue is what I let my child do and watch within our house, and how I create some structure around that. So I have to ask myself: to what extent (if any) do I buy in to the marketing hoopla by purchasing products that are marketed specifically to kids; and secondly, to what extent (if any) am I ok with the Spiderman-play and the associated violence that goes with it? I need to examine my motivations - am I denying him an age-old childhood enjoyment as a knee-jerk reaction to the big bad advertising industry, or do I really believe that allowing him access to this stuff is inappropriate to his age and will encourage anti-social behaviour?

I think that the reason this has struck me as a particular issue, to the point where I have been moved to blog about it, more than any other parenting issue I've faced so far, is that I can see both sides to the argument, and had not formed a clear opinion about which way I wanted to approach it. You see, like with virtually anything else in life, for each argument there is at least one counter-argument. I have found this applies especially to parenting. Bear with me while I digress for a moment. You have a baby. You love your baby. You're in a cocoon of love. Then (on about, oh, the second hour after they're born) a million voices start clambering to be heard, offering advice (some well-intentioned, some not) about how to soothe your baby, feed your baby, dress your baby, get your baby to sleep. The advice might be spoken, written, or just as plain as the disapproving glance on Aunty Joyce's face, but it's out there. Whether you care to seek it or not. And most people, being new at this, care to seek it. That's just being a responsible parent, doing your research. But here's the thing. After a while (and I was lucky, it was a short while) you start to get the hang of this thing, and for better or worse, start making your own decisions, and rely on or seek out the advice of others less and less. Or, even if you seek it out every so often, (or even a lot), you still come back to what you know is right for your child, or maybe what you are culturally attuned to doing, or what's within your comfort zone, or whatever works to bring about the outcome that is the highest priority for you. (For example, if sleep is the highest priority, then you might start doing whatever works to maximise that).

My point (and, to quote Ellen De Generes, I do have one...) is that for me, anyway, I've always absorbed this advice and information with an underlying certainty that I'm doing it my way. Occasionally it's been against my better judgement (as in the case of a short-lived stint of controlled crying); but even then I knew intuitively what my preferred stance or approach was, and that what I was doing was a means to an end. I've grown more confident about that as time has gone on. I've never claimed to have all the answers, not for myself as a parent and certainly not about what works for any one else, because it's such an individual thing, but I realised that this is the first time I've asked for ethical parenting advice as opposed to just practical advice. This time, I wasn't at all sure where I stood or even what the preferred outcome is. I don't just want to give my child what he asks for because he wants it, and I don't want to let him participate in a cultural phenomenon 'because every one else is doing it', but I want to give him some agency in his own life, I want to be able to accommodate some of his preferences, and I want him to be able to fully engage with his peers. So when I mentioned in the last post my fears about it being a 'slippery slope', I think what I meant by that is that it's just the beginning of the complicated world of parenting a young child as opposed to a baby. A baby cannot as clearly articulate his/her wants as opposed to needs, or, put more succinctly, perhaps a baby's needs and wants are more simple. A baby is not as influenced by the world, its peers, and marketing juggernauts as a small child. With my almost-4 year old, we are well and truly out of that cocoon.

So, issue number 1. Marketing. I know people who happily (and perhaps without a second thought) buy with an 'oh my child will LOVE this Elmo-flavoured water' rationale. They display an apparently well-intentioned desire to make their kids happy by providing them with myriad versions of things the kids 'love' (and perhaps on some level satisfying their own desires? Or because of 'pester power', it's easier to give in? Or they just can's see the harm?). Some kids at Alex's preschool seem to be clothed in head-to-toe Spiderman every single day.Other people I know deliberately search out products without any cartoon or trademarked design of any kind, and I totally respect that.

While I sometimes think it would be easier to either be completely permissive or take a hard line, I am somewhere in the middle (therefore consigning myself to the purgatory of having to examine my every parenting move without a blanket rule to fall back on!) I'm not comfortable with the level of marketing aimed at kids, but I have to acknowledge it exists and that they exist in the midst of it, and hopefully give my kids the tools to analyse it and partake in it to a reasonable extent only. With my friends who don't buy into it at all, it's the only solution. I doubt whether they considered any alternative. It fits their lifestyle. But I am a medium-level consumer of popular culture myself and I wonder to what extent I can then expect my child not to be. So, I've decided to allow Alex a Spiderman-themed party, with invitations and a cake. I'll buy him a Spiderman toy, and maybe a colouring in book. But when he asks me for a Spiderman t-shirt, shorts and shoes, it's a no. That's my decision. I try to be consistent and follow through with my yeses and nos, so whinging about it won't get him anywhere. As I do in my own life, I'll try to stay aware of when and why things are being marketed at my kids, and allow them to participate in moderation. The increasing proliferation of crap (particularly inappropriate-for-age crap) doesn't make this a particularly easy job, but now that I've sorted out my own personal boundaries in relation to it, I think I'll find it easier to stop feeling guilty about it and push ahead.

Issue number 2. Spiderman and whether he is too young for it. As a few commenters noted in my last post, it's really an individual thing and I am in the best position to decide because I know what my child can cope with, and what he cannot, and it's not always in direct correlation to the rating accorded by censorship bodies. I understand and agree that they're there for a reason, but I take an active interest in everything my children consume and ultimately I am responsible for deciding what's appropriate. For whatever reason, Spiderman has taken his fancy at this point in his life, and with careful monitoring, I think it can be a safe way for him to explore his curiousity (which I believe is an innate curiousity within human beings) about good and evil, and to find an expression for his physical frustrations and an outlet for his energy - by watching the scenes unfold (Spiderman saves people from crooks/ burning buildings/ the Green Goblin) and reenacting them with himself in the role of hero (with limited marketing equipment as props!). So far I have not noticed his behaviour changing for the worse, but he does get very animated when talking about how to climb walls and which of the superheroes is strongest! So for now, at least, Spiderman stays. And so does the Mummy's Decision is Final and No Further Correspondence Will Be Entered Into clause in his contract.

Spiderman part 1

2010-02-14T18:38:00.000-08:00

Once again I'm going to stray slightly from the theme of this blog and do a more serious post. It's not because Alex hasn't been funny lately, he's as funny as ever, but I have a couple of more pressing issues on my mind.

Lately he has been obsessed with Spiderman. I'm not exactly sure when this started or how, but judging from the number of kids I see with Spiderman paraphernalia I'm guessing Alex is not Robinson Crusoe on this.

The thing I find really weird is that there is this massive juggernaut of Spiderman stuff marketed clearly as specifically at small boys - towels, shoes, clothing, toys, lunchboxes, you name it - and yet the only Spiderman movie I've been able to find is M rated. So the dilemma is then whether to aid and abet his obsession, in the name of encouraging his curiousity and supporting his interests, or nip it in the bud with a war-cry of "no you won't overcommercialise my kid!" even though every other Tom Harry and Jaiden seems to be participating. Don't get me wrong, I'm as irritated as the next parent about the way our kids are bombarded by marketers. The thing is though, he appears to get real pleasure from this, and to exclude him at home while he's aware of it going on all over town seems to be a small victory.

So what's the solution? Do I allow him a Spiderman toy or two but not the movie? Or do I just put a total ban on the whole thing? The complicating issue is that we've had the Spiderman movies on our shelf since they came out on DVD, before Alex was even a consideration, and since he's taken interest in the subject he's noticed they're there and been petitioning to watch. OK, I know I could just say it's too adult for him and he has to respect that... but I watched it recently and it didn't *seem* to me to be *that* much worse than some of the stuff he already watches that's G rated. And on the plus side, he seems to get SO much out of this Spiderman/superhero fantasy world that he creates for himself. He'll play it for hours in the backyard, alone or with friends, shooting imaginary webs from his wrists, 'getting' the baddies, running amok. Superhero-worship is truly a time-honoured small-boy phenomena. We've had various discussions about 'play' fighting vs real fighting, and he seems to know where the boundaries are so far. So I've let him watch it, and if his behaviour starts to change I'll pull the plug.

The hairy eyeball

2010-01-21T18:36:00.001-08:00

For a while now I've been making good use of the "eyes in the back of my head" scenario. It's an oldie but a goodie. Alex is quite convinced of its veracity, largely because I have used tricks such as turning my back to him and reporting on his actions by watching his reflection in our glass doors. When he wants me to close my eyes he now instructs me to close my front eyes and my back eyes. It's worked a treat.

Like any lie, it is in danger of coming unstuck due to the complicated web of clauses and sub-clauses I have employed. For instance, my back eyes can't open while I'm driving, because it's too distracting for my front eyes - which is how I got around the "look at me mum"..."I can't I'm driving"..."use your back eyes!" Also, dads don't have back eyes, only front ones (which, ahem, even then don't always seem to work). So Alex played along and 'stole' my back eyes to give them to dad.

Because of the pretend 'back eye stealing' I started to suspect that the technique was starting to lose its sheen, then recently it came into its own again, however I had to employ slightly new logic. I was riding my bike home from a friend's place with the kids in the trailer. I heard a kerfuffle but couldn't turn around and it died down soon enough so I didn't stop the bike. When we got home, though, on taking Maya out of the trailer I noticed two big bite marks on her arm. Normally Alex is not a biter but recently Maya has been testing out her chompers so I'm sure he was doing the whole get-you-at-your-own-game thing. No excuse, obviously, and he had to be confronted. Surprisingly, instead of using the 'she did it first' line of defence, he went straight for the completely implausible 'it wasn't me'.

Me: "OK who was it?"

Alex: "It was Maya."

Me: "You're trying to tell me Maya bit herself on a part of her arm she would not even be able to reach?"

Alex: (butter wouldn't melt): "Yes."

Me (changing tack): "Well I know it was you because I saw it with my back eyes."

Alex: "But you had your helmet on!"

Me: "Well they moved down a bit to just above my neck because of the helmet." (I indicated the spot).

Alex: "..." (hangs head, busted).

Me (in my mind): Check mate.

Me: (out loud): "Well now we've established that it was you, you need to apologise to Maya."

Alex: "Sorry Maya."

Luckily he didn't think to challenge the ruling using the precedent of 'no back eyes working while driving' because technically we were on a bike, but I'm not sure how I would have finagled that one. Considering he's only 3 I can't wait when he's old enough to really argue the point...! I have no idea where he gets it from.

Will the real Green Goglin please stand up?

2010-01-21T18:26:00.000-08:00

Alex has been becoming a bit obsessed with Spiderman lately. At first I resisted, but as with anything Alex develops a passion for, trying to stop him is akin to stopping a freight train.

He pulled on his yellow goggles the other day and announced, "Look mum, it's the Green Goglin!" I feigned a frightened shriek and pranced around the back yard as he gave chase.

I must have been too good an actor as seconds later he became concerned, and, removing the goggles, said, "It's ok mum, look who it is, it's just me, Alex!"

Phew. For a second there...

The important things in life

2010-01-21T18:20:00.000-08:00

When Alex gets quiet, I know he is usually sick. This was the case yesterday (what also tipped me off was the projectile vomit).

I knew he was better today (albeit tired) because he was whining about every little thing. Case in point: I left the room to go into the next room and Alex let out a scream that would pierce every eardrum in the block. Running after me, he shrieked, "Don't ever leave little boys alone!" When I told him it's a small house, and I'm always within earshot, and he is quite safe, he responded with, "Well there's a texta out there with the lid off and it's going to DRY OUT if you don't come back in,. QUICKLY!" And we're back.

An observant boy

2010-01-17T01:25:00.001-08:00

"Mum, why are there so many beige houses in this street?"

A private matter

2010-01-12T01:53:00.000-08:00

Sometimes Alex likes to test out new words he has recently heard, to ensure he understands them correctly and has them in the right context. He's been asking me whether I'm 'concentrating' on things a lot and also enquiring as to whether I am finding some task or another 'frustrating'.

I think he may have missed the mark just a little yesterday when, after I settled him and Maya into the bath, he informed me, "Mum, Maya and I would like some privacy." I explained that although I would dearly love to be able to accommodate, common sense prevents me from leaving two small children to their own devices in the bath.

He got it right today though when he told me he needed to do a poo but could I please not come in as he wanted some privacy. And, shutting the door behind me, that's exactly what he got.*

* Until, of course, minutes later when the "I'm finissssshed" call-to-wipe came echoing through the house.

Who knew you could get Jumping Castle Rage?

2009-12-12T20:13:00.001-08:00

When is a park not a park? When it's hosting a 'private party.' Visiting a local park for a bit of a play and some morning tea, Alex's eyes lit up when he spied a jumping castle set up on some grass. To the side of the jumping castle was a group of people milling around doing vaguely social things like eating and drinking, a few kids in tow. Your basic Christmas meet-up scenario.

Alex ran over to the jumping castle and asked a man standing in front of it how much it was for a go. He told Alex to go and ask one of the ladies in the nearby group. There were only a few kids on the thing, so I thought, they'll probably let him have a 5 minute go and then off we go, every one's happy.

Alas, this is where the story turns sour. A woman smugly informed me that the jumping castle was for their "private party" and no, we could not have a go. Actually, she informed Alex of that fact as he was the one who had asked for a turn. (Maybe she wasn't smug but this is a retrospective account and I'm so annoyed that she looks smug from where I'm sitting right now.)
"But at least you asked," she continued, "we've had to get kids off there this morning who just walked up and got on without asking!" Imagine that, I thought, kids getting on an unattended jumping castle in a public park!

"Thank you!" she trilled, indicating we should get lost now. Alex expressed his disappointment with a bit of a whinge but was otherwise impressively stoic for a three-year-old. We headed towards the regular playground instead, (the one marked with a sign, 'for the plebs').

Unfortunately most of the play equipment at the park had been set on fire by vandals and resembled a scene from Apocalype Now so no joy there either. I offered Alex a consolation piece of watermelon. He threw me a withering look (but took the watermelon).

Next thing later a Santa turned up in a company ute. "Look, there's Santa!" Alex called, his hopes rising once more. Unbelievably, one of the mums from the 'private party' group overheard Alex's exclamation and turned around to shout back, "Not for you!" (This time there was no mistaking the smugness). It was one time in my life that I was truly too shocked to respond.

Of course, with the arrival of Santa all the kids who'd been on the jumping castle vacated it to mob the red-suited guy, leaving the castle mocking us in its emptiness. It was all I could do not to smuggle Alex on to it and tell him to go for his life. Picturing the potential ensuing mama-biff (which I did actually picture in a fair amount of detail - I'd take my earrings off if I wore any, and yank that pony tail to the ground if she had one) I took the lover-not-fighter route and stayed where I was.

I know when I'm beat by a bad-vibe park. Alex knew it too. There was nothing for it but to raise the white flag. Contraband jumping castle on one side, ashy remnants of a choo-choo train on the other, we two forlorn figures trudged glumly back to the car. Good times.

The ins and outs of Santa

2009-12-11T16:05:00.000-08:00

Alex is working on wrapping his mind around this Santa thing. As is his wont, he is asking many and varied questions to get a grip on how it all works. The other day he expressed some scepticism. "Mum, I don't know how that guy can take presents to every kid in the world at one time," he mused, rhetorically I hoped. "You wouldn't be the first kid to think that," I commented by way of response.

Also, no photos with Santa again this year, because "I don't want to sit next to a guy dressed as Santa, you can just tell him what I want instead."

His pre-school teachers must be more convincing than me. "Mum, Jess has a hippo on her roof eating cake, and Emma has to use a ladder to go up on the roof and get it down!" he announced wide-eyed. So he buys that, but still, the Santa thing has holes in it.

And finally, a comment on Santa's digestive system. After going to the toilet himself, Alex commented, " Santa must do lots of poos." Dare I ask why? "Because of all that food kids leave out for him to eat, he must have to poo a lot."

"Alex," I replied, "you may well be the first kid to think that."

Party time!

2009-12-11T15:45:00.000-08:00

There is nothing so precious as the dawn of first memories, snatches of time from when you were a small child where you can recall having the time of your life. It was probably a simple pleasure, something experienced for the first time that provoked a sense of wonder that is hard to re-capture.

Alex went to his first proper night-time party last night. When I say 'proper', it finished at 8pm, but he was specifically invited to it and he stayed for the duration. In fact, we had to virtually drag him out of there. If this is a sign of things to come, he'll be the last one standing, with a 'work it till you can work it no more' philosophy.

Personally, these days I love a party that ends at 8pm. Very civilised indeed. It was the end of year day care party, complete with sausage sizzle, BYO salad, and a jumping castle. Those folks know what kids want - fake tattoos, singalongs - Alex was dazzled and didn't know where to start. Except, of course he did. On to the jumping castle he went, and there he stayed for close to 2 hours, forsaking food and drink in order to keep jumping higher, higher.

I had given the kids a bath before we left, partly so that we at least arrived at the party clean, and partly because I knew it would be late when we got home and no way would I be attempting it then. When we got in the car AFTER bathtime, Alex knew this was a pretty special event. "We're not ready to go to bed!" he cheered in the back seat, "We're going to WORK OUR ENERGY instead!"

At the party he only got off the jumping castle to give interim reports about the state of his relationship with a 7 year old boy who had become his nemesis during the jumping festivities. It started with a bit of biff, before they grudgingly called a truce and spent the remainder of the evening following/bossing each other around. "He's pushing me now!" Alex would jump off to announce, returning to the jumping castle before waiting for a response.

In the car on the way home, tired and exhilirated, Alex's final words before dropping off to sleep were, "I want to do that again some time." Don't we all, son, don't we all!

No manners

2009-11-26T19:58:00.001-08:00

Alex, seeing bird poo on our back deck, said, "Those birds need to learn to use the toilet!"

Can't wait

2009-11-26T19:55:00.001-08:00

Alex: "I need it to be Christmas TODAY!"

Two cute

2009-11-18T02:43:00.000-08:00

Today we had a doctor's appointment for both kids - Maya to be immunised and Alex to have his asthma checked. First up, Maya got her injection. She cried a bit, but calmed down pretty quickly. Alex hid behind a partition in the room by way of support for Maya (that's my positive spin on it - he was overcome with empathy and couldn't bear to watch his sister being hurt - the other side being he was hiding just in case he was next)... when his turn came, the doctor lifted his shirt and listened to his breathing. Indicating Alex's pot belly, the doctor asked, "Do you drink beer?" Alex was deadpan. "No, I don't like the taste of it." The doctor looked surprised, asking, "Have you tasted it?" Now Alex looked surprised, answering no. "Well then how do you know that you don't like it?" Teased the doctor. Alex shrugged. "It's man stuff." (big sigh).

Maya was watching this exchange closely, and decided to interject by placing herself in between Alex and the doctor, wrapping her arms around his chest and saying, (her first full sentence spoken spontaneously rather than mimicking), "I love you."

Awwwwwww....

Let the negotiations begin

2009-11-16T18:19:00.000-08:00

So this Santa concept is an odd one. Last year, Alex was petrified of anything to do with Santa - the concept of a strange guy in our house, men dressed up as Santa, the loud Ho-ho-hoing, he didn't want a bar of it. This year, he's fascinated to know the nuts and bolts of it. I've kept the whole idea very low profile because I know that it could bring up some very tricky questions. Although I'm not opposed to bribery per se, I'm not sure that I want it used for the next 2 months as a way of keeping Alex in line when eventually he'll realise that the whole thing's a ruse because there's no way he's going to end up with no presents. Also, and I know this is a stretch for a 3 year old, I'm uncomfortable with the whole idea that the 'better' behaved you are, the more presents you get.

A friend of mine who was visiting inadvertently opened the can of worms. Thinking she was doing me a favour, she told Alex that if he was good, Santa would bring him lots of presents, but if he was naughty, he wouldn't get any. Furthermore, she added, Santa would know if he'd been good or bad because he could see what Alex was up to all the time. Alex trotted off and let the novelty of this idea roll around in his mind for a while. My friend looked at me with some smugness and told me I could thank her later for sorting out my child's behaviour at least until Christmas.

A few hours later (after my friend had left, of course) it came to pass (inevitably!) that Alex's curiousity was peaked. "Mum." he started, "Eddie whacked me the other day. Does that mean Santa's not coming to him?" I tried to explain that Santa kind of takes an aggregate of your general behaviour, and if it's mostly good then that's probably ok, and as I'm not Eddie's mum, or Santa, I have no idea what's in store for Eddie. (How do I explain that some kids are too poor to have Christmas presents even though they're not naughty? Is a need-to-know basis thing?)

"OK," he continued, "so what if I'm good when I'm 4 or 5? Then can I still get presents this year?" I explained that it's not a buy now, pay later system.

"What if I try reaaally, really hard, to be good, but sometimes I'm not?" I could see he was trying to sort out the boundaries of this thing, make the idea a little more concrete. (His dad's an engineer, he can't help it, it's genetic). We settled on the idea that he would try to be as nice to every one as he possibly could, and that there was a very high likelihood that Santa would indeed bring him a present. I left the whole discussion about 'good' and 'naughty/bad' for another day. Usually I try to focus on the emotion he's feeling (angry/sad/happy) rather than good/bad/naughty behaviour but it's going to come from other sources so that's a discussion for another day.

So the 'be good or Santa won't come' line lasted approximately 2 hours before it was thoroughly trounced by my analytical little boy.

Everything old is new again

2009-11-16T18:16:00.000-08:00

I was bending down, changing Maya's nappy as she stood beside our parked car on the footpath (as you do), when an elderly lady with a walking stick stopped to say hello. She commented that she was too old to bend over like that, and it's just as well you have kids when you're young. As she walked off, Alex asked me why she needed a walking stick. I explained that sometimes when you get old, you need things to help you walk.

Alex considered this. "Mum, are you old?" he asked me. "Hmmm, no, not really," I replied.

"So," he concluded, "you must be new!"

A singular focus

2009-10-15T03:07:00.000-07:00

Alex wandered in from the lounge room and announced, "I would like a Jat."

I told him he couldn't have any Jatz right now as we were just about to eat dinner.

"No, Mum," he corrected me, "I didn't say I wanted Jatz, I only want one. Just one Jat."

A curious mind

2009-10-15T03:00:00.000-07:00

Sometimes (ok, a lot), Alex continues with a specific line of questioning until the answer I give is inevitably "I don't know" or "let's ask Dad". Sometimes (ok, a lot) this is because I genuinely don't know or genuinely want his dad to answer, but often it's because I can't think of a way to explain the real answer in simple enough language to both satisfy his curiousity and prevent a further line of questioning.

Alex was in the bath running water through his hands and the conversation went something like this.
A: Mum, why is water wet?
Me: Because it's a liquid.
A: You can't carry liquid can you?
Me: Well, you can if you put it in something solid like a cup.
A: Are toys solid?
Me: Yes.
A (holding a big round bubble from the bath on the flat of his palm): Yook! I'm carrying bubbles. Is a bubble liquid?
Me: Let's ask Dad.

Dad proceeded to dazzle us with explanations about the surface of the bubble forming a meniscus and therefore being a liquid that was in fact able to be carried without a supporting solid apparatus. Glad we got that sorted out. Did I mention Alex is 3?

Anatomy of a cow

2009-09-25T14:51:00.000-07:00

Alex enjoys long conversations in the car. Maybe question and answer sessions is more accurate - him questioning, me trying to think of a plausible answer while negotiating afternoon traffic. He could be the next Kerry O'Brien.

Here's an excerpt:

Alex: 'Mum, where are a cow's boobs?

Me: Well, they're called udders and they're underneath their body...

Alex: They're near their bum aren't they? (giggles)

Me: Well, yes I suppose so...

Alex: Do they have two boobs near their bum or one?

Me (feeling a bit ddefensive about the use of the term 'boobs' to describe a cow, especially as I am currently breastfeeding Maya): Well, they're called udders Alex and they only have one

Alex: If they only have one why did you say UDDERS and not UDDER?

Me (thinking, is it because there is more than one teat, how do I explain that???): Well I suppose I was describing more than one cow

Alex (apparently satisfied with this, discontinues questioning and decides to issue a summation): SO, the cow's udders are near its bum, and if they had them up here (I suppose he gesturing to his chest but since I'm making a left turn I can't see) and then they stood up straight the baby cow wouldn't be able to reach them to get any milk so they have to have them down near their bum so the baby cow can reach them I want to go to a farm and see a baby cow drinking milk from its mum's boob can I mum?

Listen with your ears

2009-09-25T14:48:00.001-07:00

Alex and Maya were happily sitting in the trolley as we cruised the supermarket aisles. This was a triumph in itself. Suddenly, Alex called out, "Apple juice!" and pointed...immediately I responded, "No, Alex, we've got some apple juice at home, we're not getting any more."

Alex looked at me and gave an exasperated sigh, "Mum! Listen with your ears! I didn't ask for you to buy any apple juice, I just said 'apple juice' because I love it."

Point taken.

Numero Uno

2009-09-07T04:18:00.001-07:00

The vagaries of the English language are difficult to explain to a three-year-old. Alex has started racing to places (ie, the car, the kitchen) before declaring, "I'm one!" after which I say, "You won!" and he corrects me, "No, I AM one, you're two and maya's three." He seems to get that he's actually three (as in, years old) and Maya's actually one, but when it comes to racing, number order is all there is, he's not grasping the winning and losing part of it yet.

Due concern

2009-09-07T04:06:00.000-07:00

This is a sweet, rather than funny, anecdote. Yesterday Alex became concerned that I was thinking of putting Maya into child care - maybe he'd overheard the tail end of a conversation I'd been having with some one else and mis-interpreted it.

"Mum, why do the babies at day care don't matter?" he asked me. It took me a minute to figure out what he meant - sometimes he substitutes mind for matter (maybe confusing 'never mind' with 'it doesn't matter'? I find kids language development fascinating, but I digress...) - he meant why don't the babies at day care mind being left there (because Maya protests every time I leave the room). I explained that they were used to being there and that the teachers took care of them while their mums and dads were at work. "But I don't want you to do that to Maya, she's too little," he said, "she would cry too much. I'm a bigger boy so I like being at school and playing with my friends. Babies shouldn't leave their mums for that long. If we left her there, she'd cry so we'd have to go back and get her straight away."

I thought the empathy was really sweet. Perhaps he's been reading Steve Biddulph?

High Five?

2009-09-07T03:59:00.000-07:00

Recently Alex picked up a picture book called 'A Bug's Life' (based on the animated film) for 50 cents at a garage sale. Since it's mainly about ants, Alex has re-named it 'An Ant's Life' which hasn't caused a problem until I told him that there was a DVD of the book, and he wanted to watch it.

Today it was time for a treat, so I phoned JB Hi-Fi to check whether they had any in stock. Alex asked to be put on the phone. "Hello? Do you have an Ant's Life?" the sales assistant obviously tried to explain that the movie was either Antz or A Bug's Life, and they are two separate movies. Alex became frustrated so I took over the conversation. Once I'd established that they did have A Bug's Life (only $12.95, movies have gotten cheaper since back in my day), we set off to the shop.

On the way, Alex mused, "What happens to JB Hi-Fives when they run out of Hi-Fives?"

Secret boys business

2009-08-15T19:55:00.000-07:00

As happy as I am that Alex is learning all sorts of new things at pre-school, where for example they made a 'volcano' erupt in the sand-pit the other day, it leads to some interesting at-home experiments.

I was changing Maya's nappy in her room when I heard Alex's footsteps going backwards and forwards between the kitchen and bathroom (which has the only sink in the house that he can reach without assistance). "What are you doing Alex?" I enquired.

"It's ok Mum," he reassured me, "I'm only doing things that are allowed. Nothing else." This was followed by clattering, running water and him mumbling instructions to himself.

When I ventured in to see what he was up to, I found a jug full of water next to a cup and assorted cutlery. Alex was pumping sorbolene into the jug, thankfully having decided not to use the expensive hair product or hand lotion. "It's just an adventure," he shrugged. I think he meant experiment.

Herbie a has-been?

2009-08-03T22:12:00.003-07:00

"Mum, I'm too old for Herbie now," Alex announced out of the blue one morning. "I still like Minis, but Herbies were for when I was around 2."

An age-old question

2009-08-03T22:10:00.000-07:00

Climbing into bed with Alex to lie down and read him a story and wait until he falls asleep, I asked, (almost rhetorically), "Alex, when are you going to be able to take yourself off to bed by yourself?"

He appeared to consider this question and replied, "When I'm five."

Not for the faint-hearted

2009-07-16T02:55:00.000-07:00

Alex has been ill recently, but still managed to do a running commentary of events in between reaching for the bucket.

Sitting in bed, Alex says, "Mum, I'm going to bomit. I need the bucket." in a forlorn kind of a way. I rush out to get the sick bucket while he dutifully waits for me to return. Sighing wistfully, (as if to say 'here we go again') he reaches for the bucket and neatly deposits the contents of his stomach into it (tried to think of a way to say it more delicately than that, couldn't).

When it's over, he looks at me and says,"You know, when you eat, you chew the food, it goes down your neck and into your tummy. When you bomit, it comes back up your neck and out your mouth. It's pretty tricky that way." I agree that yes it's tricky and not nice, but he's doing a great job. He shrugs. "It was the pancakes." (as in 'whatta ya gonna do? you mess with pancakes, you pay the price')... personally at the time I thought it was the croissant, chocolate egg, hot chocolate and half a Tim Tam he'd had throughout the day (not our best ensemble parenting, one of us thought we'd given him too much without realising the other had done the same!)... turns out it was an ear infection! Still, maybe we won't be repeating the chocolate overdose any time soon...

An Alex retrospective

2009-07-02T04:22:00.000-07:00

Just thought I'd add in these snippets from days gone by:

Alex, age 19months, the tortured artiste is taken to a music shop by Pa, wants to bang on all the drums and pull all the guitars off their racks. Indignant at being forcibly removed from the shop, he kicks and screams as he's carried away, screaming: "I just want to play music!"

Alex, age almost 2 strokes Chris' hair for a while before farewelling him off to work. About halfway through the day, he turns to me and remarks, "Daddy's got a really nice head."

Alex, age 2 years 2 months after it's been raining, wipes his feet on the front doormat then leans down into a perfect downward dog, and wipes the top of his head too (to get the rain off).

Treating his newborn sister like a toy (that belongs to him): "I love Maya! Cuddles... I just NEED to cuddle her!" and later, in a more gentle tone, "oh! look at her tiny ears! She's got eyebrows!"

A month or two later, when Chris picks her up, Alex sternly instructs: "Pick her down, Daddy!"

Alex, 2 and a half Chris says he needs some moolah to get stuff from the shops. Alex disappears into his room and come back with his flannelette blanket with the cow pattern on it, announcing, "I got the moolah!"

Alex eats dinner with his bike helmet on. He uses my breast pad as a coaster and does a little tap dance under the table as he eats.

Alex, 2 years 9 months is very anxious about Santa Claus. Won't go near one, doesn't like the idea of him. Repeatedly asks Chris to explain the concept. "Does he come into our home?" "How does he get in?" etc etc. Finally, suggests that Daddy goes to the shop to get the toys, and just brings them straight home for him. Leave Santa out of it. At the playgroup Christmas morning, Alex just about overcame his fear by sidling up to the fake Santa, grabbing the present and making a dash for it. (It seems fear of Santa may be genetic, I remember doing and thinking the same thing)

Alex, age almost 3

Dobbing in his 10 month old sister: "Mum, Maya's not sharing!"

"Sue likes whippersnippers. She likes the noise they make. Rose likes monster trucks. They are trucks that have monsters in them."

"Mummy, who makes it night time? What does God like to eat?"

Gazing out the car window as sky becomes increasingly overcast: "Look at those dark grey clouds mummy, I think God's closing his doors!"

Language

2009-07-02T04:16:00.000-07:00

We have one of those side-by-side double prams that fits through an average doorway but the price you pay is supermarket-trolley style wheels that aren't fit for any surface but smoooooth shopping malls.

Chris was pushing both kids in said pram along a too-narrow footpath, huffing and puffing (fairly theatrically I would imagine, in the way men do when they want to emphasise the effort they're going to, but I wasn't there) as he tried to negotiate the stones, cracks in the pavement, etc.

"What's wrong Dadda?," Alex asked, and, as if to show his proficiency in using new words in their correct context, suggested, "Is it the bloody stones?"

This is not a chicken

2009-06-23T01:53:00.000-07:00

Maybe Alex will be a surrealist painter, or maybe he's just got a taste for the absurd.

We were reading Maya her bedtime story, which consists of images of animals with the word for the animal underneath.

"Chickens, Maya, chickens," Alex said helpfully, however he was pointing to a duck. Maya nodded. "bla-gurh", she agreed.

"They're ducklings, sweetheart," I said, adding "but they do look like chickens!" to soften the blow.

Alex flashed me a 'not-to-be-outdone' look. We turned the page to a horse and a pig.

"Look, Maya, chickens!" Alex continued. I laughed and said, "Pig. Piggy. Oink oink." and "horse. Neeeiggghhh."

Maya, following her usual read-along babble, pointed to the pig and said "oo-ga" (or words to that effect.)

We turned the page. An owl and a tiger. "Chickens!" Alex exclaimed, pointing to one and then the other, "Chickens!"

He carried on this way for the rest of the book, until we came to the last animal, which was an actual... you guessed it... chicken. I paused, expecting him to come up with some other name for the chicken. He looked at me with a bemused smile."What's this one?" I asked.

Alex threw his hands up in the air. "Mum, how do you not know that's a CHICKEN!?"

He stroked Maya's head and told her soothingly, "Chicken, Maya, it's a chicken."

The 3 year old version of reincarnation

2009-06-22T23:20:00.000-07:00

Lying in bed before he goes to sleep seems to be where Alex does most of his thinking about the Big Ideas Of Life.

Alex: "Mum, who's your mum?"

Me: "Nanna's my mum."

Alex: "Who's Dad's mum?"

Me: "Ouma is Dad's mum."

Alex: "Who's your grandma?"

Me: "Well I used to have a nanna but she died."

Alex (thinks for a while): "Does that mean some one squashed her?" (thinks some more) "was she really old?"

Me: "No one squashed her but yes, she was really old."

Alex: "What happens to people when they die?"

Me: "They go to meet God and we can't see them any more."

Alex (pleased with himself for coming up with this thought): "Do they get really old, then go up in a rocketship past the clouds to see God? Then, maybe they can be borned again when they get really little like a baby!"

Special delivery # 2

2009-06-19T02:52:00.000-07:00

About an hour after the "How did Maya get out" conversation, Alex looks up at me and asks, "Mum, what happens if you don't like Maya any more and she's already out?"

He's clearly been thinking of this one for a while, as Maya is now 12 months old, and at the time of her birth (when Alex was just 2 years and 2 months old), the first thing he said when Chris brought him to the hospital to meet her was, "OK mummy, is the doctor going to put her back in your tummy?" After all the build-up, perhaps he was expecting more?

Special delivery

2009-06-19T02:48:00.000-07:00

Alex: "Mum, what happened when I was born?"

Me:"You came out of my tummy."

Alex: "Mum, what happened when Maya was born?"

Me: "She came out of my tummy."

Alex: "Was it at the hospital?"

Me: "Yes."

Alex: "Did the doctor get her out?"

Me: "Yes."

Alex: "Why didn't you know how to get her out yourself? Was Daddy there? Did he help?" (I'm not joking, this all came straight from his brain)...

Me (thinking desperately for an appropriate analogy) : "Well I kind of knew, I just needed some help, like when you go to the toilet, or put trousers on, you know how to, but you need some help..."

Alex (thinks for a while):"...But Mum, it was really Daddy that took her out wasn't it?"

Elevator etiquette

2009-06-17T05:53:00.000-07:00

I stepped into a lift with Alex walking and Maya in the pram. An elderly lady in a wheelchair was wheeled in by a younger lady.

The older lady, who was sitting facing Maya, grabbed Maya's legs shook them about (none too gently but Maya didn't seem bothered), making coochie-coo noises. Alex put up his hand in protest, fingers spread wide, and issued a loud, "STOP! Babies are for stroking, gently, not for grabbing!"

Suitably chastised, the old lady dropped Maya's legs like a hot potato!

Road rage

2009-06-17T05:49:00.001-07:00

I was pushing the kids along the footpath in the double pram when we had to slow down behind an elderly man who was struggling along in front of us.

"Mummy, he's not letting us go past!" came Alex's indignant shriek.

"It's ok, we will in a minute," I stage whispered. On getting nowhere with me, Alex turned his attention to the gentleman, and in an exact mimic of his dad's exasperated in-traffic exclamation, let loose with, "Oh COME ON, dude!"

Even without his hearing aid turned up the 'dude' had to have heard that. I'm just glad Chris keeps his language G-rated when encountering frustrating traffic scenarios!

PS

2009-06-13T05:24:00.001-07:00

Just thought I'd add that I've had a fun evening remembering all the hilarious things Alex has done and said recently, and recounting them here. BUT, I won't be adding this many posts at once on a regular basis! Just one or two every few days. Depending on how hilarious he is, and how many of his witticisms I can recall.

Stealing's in the genes

2009-06-13T05:19:00.000-07:00

Alex is a fussy eater. Cheese sandwiches and bananas is where it's at. Turns out, though, that he could devour an entire box of Jatz, no problem.

We were at a friend's place and Alex spied a box of aforementioned salty crackers, and for some reason, became convinced that there was only one box of Jatz in the world, and they were ours. Couldn't conceive of the notion that ours were exactly the same, but were at home, and this box, didn't belong to us. I had to prise them out of his determined little fingers amid howls of protest.

We were leaving when I spied a suspicious looking red and white box poking out of the bottom of Maya's pram. I looked at Alex, who looked suitably sheepish, before imploring, "I took them for YOU, mummy!"

Playground conversation

2009-06-13T05:11:00.000-07:00

Alex met a kid at a shopping centre play area. The kid must have been around 4. They got to talking. I eavesdropped. The conversation went like this:

Alex: Are you my friend?
Kid: not yet.
Alex: What do you have at your home?
Kid: Toys, lots of toys.
Alex: Do you have Lightening McQueen?
Kid: yes.
Alex: The real toy or the movie?
Kid: both
Alex:Let's get out of here, this place is annoying.

At which point I had to block the exit lest they make a break for it in search of the kid's toy nirvana.

Change purse

2009-06-13T05:07:00.001-07:00

Alex has decided that he is saving up to buy his very own, "huge Herbie, just like the Love Bug." He has this thing where he has to stop and hug every VW Beetle, or Mini Cooper, that we see parked on the street ("because they're really cute little guys"). So lately he started noticing me using my change purse to pay for some things, and my wallet (with notes in it) to pay for others. He got this idea that because more coins are used than notes, they must be worth more.

When I was given a new change purse for my birthday, the idea of him having his own change purse became one worth pursuing (for him). So we gave him one that we had lying around, and since then he's been surreptitiously pocketing any spare change he can get his hands on, as well as asking to intercept change I'm given at the checkout ("Can I have the change this time mum? For my Herbie?"). I haven't got the heart to tell him he's going to have to save a looooot of coins...

Teddies for sale

2009-06-13T05:03:00.001-07:00

Tonight Alex couldn't go to sleep as he'd had a big nap during the day, so Daddy agreed to let him lie on the couch (but only if he was quiet) until he felt sleepy... well nothing ever goes exactly as agreed with Alex, he always has to negotiate/finagle a bit extra out of the deal.

First, he went back to his room to get three teddies ("just blue bear, Baxter and pink bear") to lie on the couch with. Then, holding them all in one arm, he showed me his empty arm and said plaintively, "What am I supposed to do with this arm when there are no bears there?" and, promising to be "so, so quiet" so as not to wake baby sister, he snuck back in to get two more bears.

Upon seeing Alex with an armful of stuffed toys, Daddy asked, "can I have one?" to which Alex replied, "sure. That'll be $15".

Cafe culture

2009-06-13T03:17:00.001-07:00

One of the first funny things I remember Alex doing at about 18 months old was naming cafes "Cup of tea shops". He had seen us have our tea out of similar cups as are used in cafes, and logically, put two and two together, pointing out a "cup of tea shop" wherever he could.

The next (again, logical) step was to shuffle out of bed in the morning, pop his head up at the end of our bed and greet us with, "cup of tea?" Children are nothing if not mimics.

"Cup of tea?" soon progressed to staying in bed and shouting "Dadda! Toast!" as his behaviour turned from endearing to demanding (but still endearing, coming from a not-even-2-year-old!)

A Grand Tradition

2009-06-13T03:10:00.000-07:00

Without wanting to toot my own horn, apparently I was known to say a few funny things as a child. Because there were no blogs back then and no one kept a journal, the oral tradition is all we've been left with. Subsequently, the two funny things I've said that have stuck are:

1. When I was about 20 months old, my (cloth) nappy was folded incorrectly and was making me uncomfortable, so I told my mother indignantly, "Mummy, you put knuckles in my nappy!"

2. When I was about 6 or 7, we were driving through the city and went past a brightly lit doorway with a big sign in pink lettering: PEEP SHOW. Apparently I begged my mum for ages to let us go in and have a look, and she was laughing too hard to think about how to explain to me that it really wasn't age-appropriate...

Gotta love plaigarism...

2009-06-13T03:01:00.001-07:00

In a shameless act of plaigarism, I have decided to copy the funniest blog I've seen in a while - called my kid is funny -and, since that name is taken, I've called mine - wait for it - My kid is too funny (kind of a play on words with, My kid is funny too (or 2)... geddit?). The premise for the original blog was a mummy who decided to record her 4-year-old's gems for posterity, and for any one else who wanted to see how funny a 4-year-old can be. I personally don't think all four-year-olds are comic geniuses, but this one is. I was laughing at every post, and also nodding in recognition as some of my own little comic genius' one-liners came into my head.

So - if you think my kid might be funny too - enjoy. (Apparently the author of the original blog is a journalist, as I almost-was, so surely a little plaigarism won't come between us - besides, I've only stolen the concept, all the catchphrases have come straight out of Alex's mouth, I promise!)