This month the boylet is categorically rejecting all attempts at what he deems to be “big boy” training. I swear he’d climb right back into the womb, given half a chance. He might also be having a bit of a growth spurt, given how he’s radiating hungry sunshine in the mornings and all a bit emo in the evenings.
In matters of bed usage, I think we’ll chalk up our recent efforts as Microbe 1, Parents 0. Suffice to say, if he stays in bed all night, it’s because he’s knackered. The rest of the time he continues to have unfeasible stamina for running down the corridor to our room all night long.
When G and I are eventually worn out enough to fold and let him into our bed, we render the entire training exercise pointless… but, dear god, try telling yourself that at 4 am after 10 nights of worthy and ineffective battling. Letting him into bed is like discovering the ‘off switch’. Literally the second he’s allowed in, the little bugger sinks into an instant, deep and silent sleep for the rest of the night, allowing us to do likewise.
As for potty training, so far we’ve had one lone report of a wee-wee done at nursery and nothing whatsoever at home. He’s got a potty with his name on it at nursery but if he’s asked to sit on it he argues vociferously that he is “not a big boy yet“. We’re having a similar experience at home with a total rejection of the toddler loo seat and cries of “But I’m not growed up yet mummy!” or “I’m still quite little, daddy!”
My honest confession about all of this is that I’m struggling to care very much. I realise there are a hundred and one toddler-rearing manuals our there that would urge me to tick all of this stuff off a list but …I dunno. Will I even remember any of this by the time he’s 5? After spending the last two years angsting endlessly over his lack of appetite, I’m not sure I want to add another load of unnecessary worries to the pile, when I could just leave things be and let him grow up at his own pace.
In chirpier news, I’m loving the Hogwartian incantation of “I’m going to count to three” for minor microbial misdemanours. The only challenge is working out, by the seat of your pants, what exactly the penalty for getting to three will be. Depending on the time of day, my front-runners this week are: “straight to bed with no stories” or “straight to your room with the door closed” or “you won’t be coming to Grandma’s” (that last one is highly risky as he will be coming to Grandma’s regardless… but, thank god, I haven’t got as far as three yet).
Being sent to his room is our version of the naughty step and it hasn’t happened very often so far. The deal is that he has to stay there for a while and then he can knock on his door when he wants to apologise and be let out. Like all of these methods, it relies heavily on him having enough innate discipline to trudge there when ordered to and not to barge straight back out again.
In food news, the boylet’s latest favourite-thing-in-the-world is nutella pancakes. He had them for the first time on Shrove Tuesday and has since badgered to make pancakes a couple of times with daddy. Much as he’d like every day to be nutella day, I’m planning to have a go at making sausage rolls with him on Saturday, to see if they’re as a big a hit at home as they are at nursery.
A little while ago I lampooned the boy on here for raving on about imaginary cows and sheep visiting nursery. I take it back… they really did have a visit from a farmload of animals last week. This was probably the highlight of Jimmy’s nursery career and he came home afterwards full of glory tales about how he tickled a pig and how he cried when he had to go back inside and let some other children get their dose of beastlove.
If time allows we might take him to the local urban farm over Easter, so
I (ahem) he can get his dose of newborn lambs and goats.
Well I suppose that’s enough rambles for now. We’re all looking forward to our visit to Grandma’s house this weekend, so I shall undoubtedly report back later with pics. x