The reason he was allowed to stuff his face with a chocolate-based product before 10am was directly related to the amount of 'mother guilt' I was suffering due to having earlier dragged him kicking and screaming into the doctors office to receive yet another immunisation. He was terribly affronted when I pulled down his dark navy corduroy trousers to allow the nurse access to his chubby little thigh. Furious, he watched her jab him quickly in the left leg, then unbeknownst to her, ducked out of the way just in time before he could swat her on the side of her head. It was a close call.
Downstairs his wailing drew concern from a kindly receptionist who dipped into her personal supply to procure a chocolate for him in the hopes of getting him to cease and desist in his wailing...especially as it was obviously distressing the elderly man pacing anxiously in reception.
I must confess I'm not in the best of ways these days either. This is mostly due to the fact that a certain toddler is now making nightly visits to our marital bed. From dawn onwards each day I find myself lying awake, ramrod straight, crammed in between an oblivious tossing and turning husband and a fleshy little carbunkle who insists on sleeping one of two ways: either face to face with his little arms wrapped snuggly around my neck (this is adorable for about 2 seconds) OR draped on top of me as if I am a small mountain.
Sometimes I'll hear, "Mama hold me!" which means I must immediately turn about face and wrap my arms around him from behind as he curls and snuggles back into me.
Yes, yes, I KNOW that I should treasure these cuddly, precious moments before they are gone forever and I am a source of embarrassment and dismay instead of the glorified love object I appear to be at present. And I know that Egg wasn't the most cuddly of babies and thus I openly longed for a child who would love to curl up and snuggle in my arms...but seriously...this is getting pretty extreme.
These days I can't even wear my favourite Topshop black and white striped top because even though I have a fairly modest cleavage, the cut of the piece shows what I do have to its' utmost advantage and drives Dumpie to distraction. The last time I wore it Dumps spent the day nuzzling my chest and lovingly stroking the tops of my breasts in a proprietary fashion.
Still, there are advantages to having such a precocious child. There is no end to the constant amusement he provides.
The other day Dumpie wandered in casually wearing oversized bright orange plastic 'shutter' sunglasses and proffering a Nurofen Plus headache tablet (don't ask) to the husband who had earlier expressed dismay over the unfortunate onset of a cold, while the three of us had been lying in bed listening to the radio.
And then that night just after midnight as we were about to turn off the lights we heard a strange noise. Moments later outside our bedroom door we heard what sounded bizarrely like a A chord being strummed. We weren't wrong. In walked the Dumps, half asleep, clutching 'Teddy Bear' and his little guitar.
He promptly climbed in bed, I hoisted the guitar from his hands and seconds later he was quietly snoring. The husband and I looked at each other, too tired to laugh but terribly amused nonetheless. Our little sleepwalker clearly has something of the musician in him.
Little Egg meanwhile continues to shine as 'class mathematician' and now burgeoning 'reader'. Last night I sat through an entire reading from "Green Eggs and Ham" as Eggs astounded me by reading the whole thing cover to cover.
With any luck in a month or two I can hand over 'bedtime story' duties to Egg while I collapse
downstairs in front of 'Location Location' with a glass of red wine and try and ignore the screams as Dumps and Eggs fight over who gets to turn the next page.
But for now I must dash. My giggling toddler is whipping my set of razor sharp keys at my head as I try and type this. I am seriously in danger of losing an eye.