Wednesday, 4 June 2008
The Love Slug
I am not a morning person...i mean NOT at all. Anyone who knows me knows this. It's not that i'm lazy (goodness, i expend more energy these days before noon than i used to in an entire day of university) but just that I do not terribly enjoy the early hours of the day. (The exception to this of course was when Jay and I were cruising around India for seven months on a motorcycle - in which case mornings were my favourite...the whole glorious country just waking up, and the scent of fresh brewing tea, jasmine, spices, etc. was an invigorating and enchanting tonic and...oh I'd better just stop this daydreaming now as it's DEFINITELY not going to help things).
Anyway, as I was saying, mornings present a daily challenge for me. Being rudely wakened from a dream by a gooey kiss from a toddler is indeed one of lifes sweetnesses...and in fact is a rather NICE way to arise. The smell of freshly brewed dark Italian roasted coffee is also another way to entice me out of my bed. However, being molested by the 'Love Slug' is NOT particularly pleasant.
Lest you think this 'family blog' is about to get all pervy and inappropriate, let me assure you that the 'Love Slug' is not my partner of 18 years, but rather my son of 18 months (although sometimes the similarities between the two are shocking). No, we've recently coined Dumps the 'Love Slug' (that boy is collecting ridiculous nicknames at an alarming rate), as it best describes his morning ministrations. He'll climb into your bed, attach his body to yours and smother you in goo, slime, spittle, and whatever mucus is issuing via his nose, whilst groaning happily, kissing you and rubbing his little face all over yours. It really is hilarious (if you're the one watching) but rather dangerous if you're the recipient as he is not adverse to a little head banging as well. He'll lean back, look you naughtily in the eyes then free fall into your face...or your head...or other sensitive body parts...and if your reflexes are not up to par, YOU WILL GET HURT. This will go on for several minutes until you go running and screaming from bed, fly downstairs and make Dumpie his breakfast...(which I suppose is the whole point of the exercise).
Little Egg is looking more and more angelic in comparison. I won't deny that he was a naughty little toddler (aren't all little boys? No? They're not? Oh.....) but the frequency with which he would propogate disasters was a little more realistic. It was once or twice a week or at best. Dumpie on the other hand has now settled into a daily routine of disasters too numerous to recount. In fact, if you ever wonder why these blogs often have gaps of several days in between them it's because I'm too busy dealing with the nightmares to blog about them!
Seriously though, Egg is a darling, and rather excited about his imminent 4th birthday (two weeks and counting). Auntie Ba has ensured that she will be the star of the day by procuring the biggest, coolest 'digger and tracker' riding toy for him (he tried it in a store then sobbed for several days afterwards whenever he remembered how much he loved it and wanted it). Auntie Ba is also aware that he will keep this magical monstrosity of a toy for only the day or maybe a week if we're feeling generous, before we donate it to his nursery or a more suitable home than our beloved terrace!
Speaking of nursery, yesterday Egg went back to school for the first time after spring break, and my oh my was his entrance grand. As soon as I opened the door, no less than three girls ran up screaming, 'Jake! Jake! Jaaaaake!' and jumped up and down in excitement as he gazed up at me nonchalantly and then (competely ignoring them) sauntered over to his coat hook to hang up his jacket. We then went to the games room, put his little name tag on the attendance board, then I left as he was immediately swarmed by these self-same girls who enveloped him in a giant bear hug almost suffocating the poor boy. I don't think life is going to be too challenging for dear little Egg in this department, and I suspect his father will be green with envy at the ease with which he procures members of the opposite sex.
At any rate it's time to stop nattering on. Dumps has just walked in with soaked feet (he's been playing in our shower again), while my feet are once again stuck to the floor in a delightful concoction of orange juice and Shreddies. At least it's a beautiful day and I can take them to the park and let them run wild like the crazy little beasts they are.
You'll find me slunk down low on a wooden bench, dark shades on, with a double shot cappuccino in hand, daydreaming about motorcycling around India....don't disturb me.