"My underwears" (Emma)

We have a very proud little girl today - she has graduated to wearing "big kids pants" (underpants instead of nappies). She calles them her "underwears" and she couldn't be more chuffed. She absolutely loves going to her potty and pulling down her own pants. And one day, when she's 18, we'll tease her about it and embarrass her. But for now, we're proud, too, because she's a little bit older than she was yesterday. And because parents get proud of strange things.

Nice day, Mumma? (Anna)

We were warned that when you have kids, you find out what you talk about a lot, because your kids parrot it back to you. Most mornings, when we go out of the front door, I make some commentary on the weather. "Oh, isn't it a lovely day. Look at the blue sky. Can you hear the birds chirping" etc etc or "Yuck! It's not a very nice day, is it! It's grey and rainy and cold." Sometimes, I'll say "Can you feel that lovely rain on your head." But I hadn't realised how much it's part of our normal conversation until this morning when, over the breakfast table, Emma turned to me conversationally and enquired, "Is it a nice day today, Mumma?"

A, B, C (Anna)

Emma's very interested in letters at the moment, so she's continuously asking "What letter is that?" Then we give her the letter and come up with as many words as we can think of beginning with that letter (surprisingly few...B...uh...B for bottle...B for balloon...B for Barbados...B for, um, beatification...oh right, B for baby, ball....) But she's not completely confident with the concept. Last night, she was eating chilli and pulled out a bean. "What letter is this?" she asked. So we're trying to explain that not everything is a letter. And then there's punctuation. "What's this?" she'll ask, and we'll say "It's a dash." She looks at us expectantly, and says "Dash for....?"

Mum, there's a walrus in my porridge (Anna)

Emma woke us at 4.30 this morning (4.30!!) to tell us that there was an (imaginary) spider on her knee that was keeping her awake. And at breakfast this morning, she told us that there was a walrus in her porridge. (Yes, we had to ask her to repeat it too.) "There's a walrus in my porridge. (pointing) Just there." So we flipped through our mental database of appropriate questions to ask about walruses that live in porridge bowls, and came up with, "What is the walrus saying?" to which Emmy replied, "Saying 'Eat your breakfast!'" So at least her imaginary creatures are backing us up - I can't imagine how hard it would have been to get her to eat if the walrus had advised against it.

Emma is generally reasonably well-behaved with us (given that she's a toddler with a burgeoning sense of personal identity.) And she's generally reasonably well-behaved with her daycare teachers. Put them, together, though, and apparently all bets are off. This, I discovered today on a field trip to Science World with Emma's daycare. After several hours of fun and discovery, the trip home was a nightmare. While all the other kids angelically held an adult's hand and crossed the road, and then sat patiently on the bus, I had an angry, screaming toddler who refused to hold hands, refused to sit still and wouldn't stop crying. Toddler tantrums are fun at the best of times. Having them happen in public is worse. Having them happen in front of your child's teachers and all the other kids is bordering on humiliating. Ho hum. I hate parenting with an audience.

Life According to Emma (Anna)

Cuddling with Mumma and reading. Points to a pig in a book. . Emma: "Piggy sad". Mumma: "Why is piggy sad, do you think?" Emma: "Needs Mumma cuddle." Mumma: "Does Emma need a cuddle, too?" Emma: "Ok." (cuddle, keep reading. A few minutes go by. Turns page back to pig picture) Emma: "Piggy happy!" Mumma: "Yeah? Why is piggy happy?" Emma: "Ate banana bread for snack." So there you go. Sadness is needing a cuddle. Happiness is banana bread.

Bed (Anna)

Lea - this post is for you, following our conversation the other day about why kids want to delay bedtime even when they're exhausted. This might be something of an answer. Tonight, Emma was curled up on my lap in the final stages of the bedtime routine. This is usually a combination of singing (together or just me) and her talking about whatever's on her mind (we end up in all sorts of interesting places during these conversations). She sighed and said, "Bedtime." I nodded and stroked her back, and she went on: "No more books." *sigh* "No more songs." *sigh* "No more games." *sigh* "No more play" *sigh* "No more being silly." *sigh* Then she wrapped her arms around me and said "I need a cuddle, Mumma." So we cuddled and lamented the end of another day as if it was the end of the world, and I whispered, "And tomorrow we'll do it all over again". But you know what? If those are the things she associates with being awake, I think she has pretty good days. P.S. I am not the only blogger who is being infuriated by the bug in the program that has disallowed paragrah and line breaks. The web is rife with complaints about it. Apparently, it is waiting for a solution from Google. It drives me crazy - it completely messes up my rhythms and cadences, and makes it sound like I don't know how to take a breath!