Lily has now reached the grand old age of 2 years and 8 months. Just the right age to be a little miss know it all.
She knows it all. I know this, because she tells me she knows it all.
I know she’s smarter than me. I know this, because she tells me.
One day she will turn the tables and take control of this little blog and write some shit about me. Tell the world how grouchy her mummy is. What stupid things she says and does (and there’s plenty of ammo). Mock me and berate me to the whole world, just because she can. Just because I do it to her. Comeuppance I so rightly deserve, she will say.
Until then my little lovely, I have the upper hand……
Lily has found a new way to amuse herself, and us it seems. We don’t mind laughing inappropriately at naughty things she does. She has found that if she mentions willies or foo foos from time to time, and perhaps add a little toddler humour in there too, it gets us laughing. She was playing with her dolly and stuck her between her legs, shouting out, “I’ve got a willy daddy, look, I’ve got a willy”! If she’s basing her willy model on a sneaky glimpse of Allan’s, then either she needs glasses or he needs the doctor!
She still finds it highly amusing to drop her drawers to flash her bottom or foo foo. I had a double display this afternoon, accompanied by the ‘wiggle’ for special effect. She loves it when you feign disgust, and she does it all the more.
I recently had to dye my hair back to it’s unnatural colour of dark brown. I guess if it was left unattended for too long it would gradually grow out to it’s now natural grey! Lily was watching the whole process, from smearing the cream round my forehead and hairline, so as not to get the dreaded staining (I still get it despite my efforts) to the end result of watching the dark water swirl round out of the plug hole in the bath. She proclaimed how lovely it looked once it had been done, and watched from the bed, as I dried and straightened it. She wanted to touch it, feel it, now it was all done. She stroked my hair and told me how soft it felt, then she asked me if she could smell it. Of course I said, bending down for her to take in the nice clean aroma of clean freshly dyed hair. “Your hair stinks like poo mummy”! Then off she went wafting her hand across her face, like she had just encountered the worst poo whiff she had ever has the misfortune to smell!
Allan has a bald patch at the back of his head. We’ll not tell him how big it is, as he doesn’t need to know does he? He knows it’s there. he thinks it’s barely noticeable. We’ll not tell him any different! Lily on the other hand will gladly point it out. “Daddy you’ve got a grey patch on your head” She mistakenly calls it grey. She continued to tell him about his grey patch. Allan was laughing, I was laughing. Lily was harping on and on, not letting it go until he finally got it, that he was a baldy. She cupped his chin in her hands and whipped his head round to the side, in an attempt to show me the awesome shiny bit she had found. Poor Allan nearly had whiplash!
Who would say to a toddler that they could be the boss for an hour, to do anything they wanted to do? Daddy, that’s who! Goodness knows what possessed him, but there you have it, he said it. The deal was that at a certain time of the day, for one hour, Lily could do whatever she wanted. he asked her what she would like to do while she was the boss, and her answer was thankfully simple. To play games on his computer. The given time was something like 1-2pm. During the morning, after he had made his promise to Lily, they were coming down the stairs when she asked him what time it said on the clock. He told her it was 10 am to which she replied, “No it isn’t, it’s 2 o’clock. Can I be boss now”? We pretty much had this scenario several times prior to the agreed time of her becoming boss. She went on and on about it, demanding to be boss every five minutes. I don’t think she will be given that little treat again.
Playing shopkeepers is quite a popular game at the moment. She will stack up items from the cupboards to fill her shop. Use her own pretend food and jewellery to sell. She has gazillions of pounds to spend, all saved up from her extortionate prices. We take it in turns to be the shopkeeper and customer, where we have to call each other madam, and be ever so polite, and ask each other if we are having a nice day etc. If she actually knew what she was doing when she was ringing through the prices for each item, she would shock herself. No, hang her head in shame from the downright robbery of it all! As it happens she really can’t tell what the till display reads, and when I ask her how much it is that I owe, she will say some items are two-ty two, or three-ty three, and the grand total usually comes to something like seventy seven seven! She hardly ever gives change, but takes change from the till when she’s the customer. Usually more than she came in with.
How I wish you would remember these times for yourself Lily, instead of reading about them later, once you’ve grown.
It won’t be the same.