Egg has now developed a severe aversion to the following items: Hoovers (vacuum cleaners for you non-Brits), Helmets (go figure – not big, scary motorcycles, but actual helmets!), Hand Dryers (massively hampering our diligent toilet training attempts while out in public as he absolutely refuses to enter any public washroom which contains one), Hair Dryers, foxes, lizards, and new (inexplicable) entries 'wristbands' and 'handstamps'.
Anything he hates he publicly banishes to 'Old McDonalds Farm'. It's his version of Hades and like a mini despot he gesticulates and loudly pronounces his most hated things banished to the farm. (Currently Jesus and Grandma are residing there with a plethora of unwanted rodents and other undesirables).
My son the enigma. He can count to ten unprompted in French, yet he can't seem to get his head round riding a tricycle. Little Egg continues to call his ratty teddy bear 'Bacon' his 'sweet little baby' and luckily no longer breastfeeds him in public – though Bacon can often be seen wearing Egg's brand new 'underpants'.
Not much more to say at present. Have discovered that single parent families are the hero's of the modern age. With Jay not around to help I am getting swamped under with the unenviable statistics of 2 to 1.
Toilet training continues in earnest, and we're making great headway with the 'stand-up pee pee's' but no progress on the number two front (sigh). Still I remain optimistic – if only because I am absolutely determined that Egg is going to nursery this fall. I will lie about him being toilet trained if it comes to it. I will teach him how to change his own nappies if need be (actually, he already does that). HE IS GOING TO SCHOOL. END OF STORY. No matter what.