Not quite all grown up

My heart sank for a little while earlier today. In the middle of reading the Small Boy his bedtime story, in marches the Bigger Boy announcing that he has a surprise for his little brother.

“Here, you can have Rusty Bear. I don’t need him because I’m a big boy now – I’m nearly four”.

“What? Are you sure?”, I asked.

“Yes mummy. I am too big for teddies. Sam can have him now”.

“But what about Affie?”, I asked, (Affie is a small toy rabbit which has been around since he was a few months old).

“Sam can have her too”.

I was genuinely stunned. Offering to give up his teddies is the equivalent of him offering to give up one of his limbs he is so dependant on them.

I felt a lump rise in my throat as I finished the story and put the Small Boy to bed. I wasn’t ready for my little boy to make such assertions about not needing his teddies. For the last three years of his life, those two teddies have been his constant companion. The last things to be asked for as lights go out at bedtime, retrieved from down the side of the bed in the middle of the night and the first things to be asked for in the morning. They have been on our best holidays, attended family weddings, helped to look after him in hospital, been the only things that can stop tears after a nasty fall and have been washed and hung out to dry more times than I care to remember.

Just as I was getting really nostalgic about all this, my ever-so-grown-up boy had a minor incident resulting in a cut lip and plenty of tears. As I was in the process of calming him down, Daddy came home and took over.

Still mildly traumatised by the fact that the teddies had been side-lined, I went downstairs to cook dinner. A little while later, Daddy came downstairs.

“Is he OK”?, I asked.

“He’s fine”, he said, “A tiny bit of blood but he asked for his teddies and he’s calmed down and gone to sleep.”

I smiled. Turns out he was not quite ready to grow up after all.

Thank goodness.

Not quite all grown up

Top of The Tots

Here we go with this week’s TOTT countdown: How to distract your mummy when she’s driving

New entry at 10 - Just after getting onto the motorway, drop the book you were quietly reading. This means you have the perfect excuse to start causing trouble.

No move at 9 - Complain profusely about her choice of music and INSIST that she puts the Dingle Dangle Scarecrow on repeat. She will get very frustrated trying to reach the CD out of the glove compartment.

Climbing to 8 - Try to take your shoes and socks off. Shout loudly about the fact you do not yet have the requisite motor skills to do this.

New entry at 7 - Spill your drink all over yourself.

Non mover at 6 – Hit your brother with your toy truck so that he cries annoyingly for the rest of the journey.

This week’s highest climber at 5 - Drop your teddy just out of her reach and then wail and fuss about it until she has to pull over and get it for you.

Down two places at 4 - Ask repeatedly for more milk, even though you know there is none in the car and you've just gone past the last garage.

Climbing to 3 - Protest loudly about the whole journey taking too long. If you can’t actually talk yet, demonstrate your annoyance by kicking vigorously and trying to take your arms out of the car seat straps. This is sure to get her attention.

Non mover at 2 - Sneeze and produce an alarmingly large amount of snot which has to be wiped up immediately.

And straight in at number 1 - Vomit all over yourself and your brother. This is particularly effective if you're on your way to a party or some other event when you both have your especially nice clothes on!

Next week's countdown: Things you can get away with when your mum is on the phone.

Top of The Tots

Missing: Three pairs of shoes and one belt

I have spent the last couple of weeks completely baffled as to the whereabouts of three pairs of my shoes and a belt. They were last seen lurking amongst the usual pile of clothing and accessories which have taken up permanent residence in a corner of my bedroom.

I was truly puzzled. Where on earth could they be? I retraced my steps – were they in a different pile of stuff on the floor? Had I somehow had a moment of orderliness and actually put them away properly? Apparently not.

My suspicions were then drawn to the children, who are often to be seen clip clopping around the house in one or other of my shoes. I checked all their usual ‘secret’ hiding places: under the beds, in toy baskets and down the loo. Still no sign. Even the four-year-old under interrogation wouldn’t confess to any knowledge of their whereabouts. He alleged that he hadn’t seen the small red head with them either. I had come to the conclusion that I must have put them in the charity bag by mistake when, this morning, the mystery was finally solved.

In an unexpected burst of Sunday morning energy, I took it upon myself to empty the laundry basket, and I mean empty it. Wash everything in it until I could actually see the bottom. Brave, I know.

And would you believe it, several loads later - lo and behold - there, among the Triassic period of the family laundry, were my missing shoes and belt. The moral of the story being, keep on top of the laundry and one shall not lose one's posessions. I still suspect the small red headed one, although he’s maintaining his silence on the matter.

Missing: Three pairs of shoes and one belt