Friday, 11 May 2007

Egg 4...Mama 0

I have begun to realise that raising a boy child is going to be an ongoing challenge. It's as though Egg and i have been indelibly bound together in some sort of hazardous three-legged race and although i have no doubt we'll eventually cross the finish line (only 18 more years to go!) i do wonder what sort of permanent damage we shall inflict upon each other.

This morning jay came downstairs to find Egg playing with a sharp kitchen knife which he was using to pick out lemon pips. How he procured the knife and exactly what he was going to do with the lemon is unclear. A few weeks ago he decided to taste test one of our cleaning products (luckily not a chemically hazardous one) and a frantic call had to be made our local poison control centre.

Jay take on it is that he believes that if only Egg had a few hours of playtime and activities each day then he would be approximately 86% less naughty. In principle i agree but the reality is much different. With a breast-feeding infant imbibing hourly, multi-child mobile manouevers call for terribly strategic planning.

There are places where this most natural of acts is relatively acceptable and places where it most certainly not. Now the gorgeous park nearby harbours a small wooden building called, 'The Playhouse' where Eggie has already befriended a number of rather questionable children. This falls into the 'most certainly is not' category.

So assuming i can get both boys fed, changed, watered and out the door within the two hours which it is open to public each day, it seems we might be onto something. However the reality is much different. Once inside you are met by a pack of brash-talking, scary-looking South London Moms who wouldn't look out of place on a rugby field or in a police line-up.

While Jay tends to spend his time there with nose planted firmly in a book, hidden away in a corner, I tend to take a more passively aggressive role. I sit and fidget on the sidelines, youngest baby strapped on and ready to dash out and rescue my little man if he gets shoved by a hooligan-in-training.

Anyway, the point is that i doubt that the benefits gained from being in the company of the Children of the Corn is going to prove beneficial in alleviating the naughty bug.

I suppose the way to look at it is that Egg won't be two forever and if pressed i'd rather spend my days mopping up spilt shampoos, retrieving cosmetics from the toilet bowl and chasing a fecally-obsessed toddler around, then waiting up all night for him to come home with the car!

In this battlefield which stretches out before me I realise that i have only one solution. I am going to have to learn how to cheat!

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