Went to the library today. Got shushed before we’d even got on the bus.
Daddy (carrying toddler down the steps and bouncing him gently)
Nearly 4 year old: Daddy, remember to walk carefully on the steps.
Daddy: Sorry, what did you say Zeph?
Me: Yes, Daddy. Please remember to be careful on the steps. We don’t want you to get hurt.
Nearly 4 year old: Please be quiet, Mummy!
Me: Oh, sorry!
Nearly 4 year old: Mummy, you are too noisy! Daddy, you have to walk carefully on the steps so you don’t fall down!
On the way home it was the other way round…
Zeph (sitting at the very front of the bus): Mummy, how did God make the earth?
Me (sitting at the very back of the bus): Why don’t we talk about this when we get home.
Zeph: What Mummy?
Repeat. Several times. Until he realised he couldn’t hear what I was saying and gave up. Or got bored and tried to think of another way to annoy everyone else on the bus.
Zeph loves reading, but just recently during our bedtime books he’s been quite distracted: he wants to jump around and play, though if I happen to stop reading I’m quickly instructed to continue. I realised its been quite a while since we’d been to the library for one reason and another, so we’d been reading and re-reading the same books. After reading at the library today it was, ‘Can we read a book in the park?’, ‘Can we read a book on the bus on the way home?’, ‘Can we read a book at home?’, followed by absolute attention tonight at bedtime.
Today amongst our mix came a few from favourite series that I would definitely recommend for fun, exploring science and problem resolution: Curious George, The Magic School Bus, and Arthur.
Then, some strange fit seized me this evening, and instead of taking the easy option that I was planning on (sandwiches, having eaten out at lunch time), I offered to make pancakes. This, to my un-surprise, was quickly seized upon by Zeph. And my husband.
And then a little voice said, ‘Mummy, can I help you? Please?’
Now, I love to let my boys help with all kinds of things. I love cooking and baking with them. Or at least, I think I do until we get half way through and there is something, no there is half my kitchen, smeared across my children and the floor. So I always have a small internal battle when I get asked this question, especially when I’m tired and I just want to get dinner ready so I can get to bedtime. ‘You really want to? … *arghhhh* … oh ok!’