It's probably a good thing we don't live in Camberwell anymore, as I'm sure a stroll down Peckham way would have yielded several options for the purchase of some street crack or heroin. In my current state of 24/7 pain, the thought of being able to go blotto might have proved too tempting an option.
Last night Dumpie did his first 'wee' in the bright red, cheap-as-chips and mostly useless potty I picked up from Ikea last week. Apparently he stood up, naked and grinning, and straddling the thing like the dude that he is, did his first dribble. A big fuss was made and he came charging into the kitchen demanding a 'dessert' (his new favourite word) as reward. So a small pot of Belgian chocolate souffle was presented with a flourish, and he dove straight into it forgoing a spoon in favour of total facial immersion.
Despite our washing machine being dead as a doornail, my husband still insists that this is a good time to train our child out of nappies, his reasoning being that thanks to last night's dribble we have a bit of momentum going. I suspect however that the first fecal explosion (predicted to be around eleven hundred hours this morning) shall put paid to that idea and convince him otherwise. We shall see...
The other night I had my first ever installment of the old 'birds and the bees' discussion with Egg, while Dumpie listened in curiously. Egg wanted to know why some people have 'winkies' and some people have 'minkies'. I was showering in a see-through cubicle at the time, while the boys were splashing around in the bath beside me. I said the first thing that came into my head.
"Well you know puzzles? Well God made boys and girls differently so that they could fit together like a puzzle and make babies." While Egg was digesting this, I suddenly had a mental flash of being called into his school at some point in the future by the headmaster, and being informed that Egg had been found trying to 'fit' with a little girl in an attempt to make a baby. Before I could expand on this, Egg had another question.
"So the boy's winkie goes inside the girl's minkie?" he asked, his sweet little face looking perplexed.
"Yes...when you're lying down" I said, but then for some reason added, "or standing up...".
Thankfully the conversation came to an abrupt close as Dumpie suddenly upended a giant container of soapy water over Egg's head, then turned on the bath tap, rendering my shower ice-cold and causing me to scream.
Between that and a programme Dumpie saw last night about a baby being born, he's got it into his head that he would like a baby for his very own. "You make baby Mama", he demanded. "I want hold baby."
Ah Dumps...let's just get the washing machine, my mouth and your potty training sorted then we'll talk about it. Get back to me in a few years....