The Bald Kitten is three. At 16.48 on Saturday afternoon he was officially a whole three and I got a tad emotional thinking about three years ago; when our lives (and my fanny) changed forever.
Three brings a whole new set of challenges. I think kids bring a whole new set of challenges daily, it’s part of their charm but he’s really ramped things up. What I’ve not been prepared for is the rapid and alarming decline in his behaviour.
He is hard work.
He’s also started sniggering when he knows he pushing it, which is about as much fun as an ear infection.
On the days he’s complete bum hole from the moment he opens his eyes Even Balder is sure to cry for extended periods of time, so I really get to question my sanity before lunch.
Sometimes I question where my little boy has gone, but then yesterday after chasing the little sod all round Mothercare, having him shout ‘No! You’re being naughty and you have to stop it!’ at me in front of the nice lady at the till, after he turned ALL the heads in Superdrug because he didn’t want to look for his brother’s sock, after wailing ‘Mummy let go of my hand you’re hurting me!’ earning me some looks of disapproval (I absolutely wasn’t hurting him) he burst into tears (still in a shop, natch) and said ‘Mummy I want a cuddle.’
I’ve noticed he does this when he knows I’m furious. It’s his way of checking that even though he’s been a little shit, I still love him. I’m not going to lie, I needed a couple of deep breaths before I could cuddle him. My emotions aren’t quite as flexible as his. But cuddle we did, I got on my knees in the middle of the shop and cuddled him. He wrapped his arms around me, I wiped the tears off his face and told him it was important to hold my hand and use his ‘listening ears’. He nodded and I left the shop with a calm little boy.
It would be great if that was how it ended, wouldn’t it?
Well obviously it didn’t. We got to the door and he said ‘Mummy, can we go to the cafe?’ I’m not flush with cash at the minute and maybe I’m a Scrooge but I’m not spending a fortune on overpriced cake and squash for a child I’ve had to chase around three shops.
My refusal started the very dramatic, rather theatrical wailing again. With repetition of the phrases: ‘I WANT TO GO TO THE CAFE!’ and ‘I DON’T WANT TO GO HOME!’
But home we went. I’d like to point out my mum was with us, doing a good job of pretending she wasn’t. Traitor.
In other news:
Already regretting buying the Bald Kitten a noisy police car for his birthday.
Hubs and I had a heart attack after the boy said what sounded very much like ‘the animals are slags.’ Turns out he said ‘the animals are SAD and we need our hearing checked.
Even Balder is producing so much dribble I think he might actually be just dribble.