Littlest and the (Bloody) Baby Toilet Seat

Blog world, we have a problem.

Littlest, as you know if you’re a regular, is now 5 years old. He is just like your typical boy at that age- sometimes stroppy, into Lego, not fond of doing what he is told (by me) and at the stage when farts are still highly amusing, especially when shared with everyone else. Or planted on his sisters lap.

Considering some of the shit that goes down with his health, he is doing pretty well, meeting his milestones (not that that bothers me, I am of the school of thought that suggests kids do things in their own time and don’t meet some uniform way of doing stuff like some Health Visitors will chew your ear off about). He does OK at school, he still has quite a bit of time off, I would prefer he spoke up a bit more as he manages to answer Year 2 maths at home yet at school they think he’s behind, but, well, not a biggie.

There is one thing though, one thing that is an annoyance point and causes all out tantrums between Littlest, Elder and myself.

A lump of multicoloured, cushioned plastic that he wont let us throw away, and which, if he can’t find (like at 6.23am today) will cause a crying, snot filled meltdown.

His Baby Training Toilet Seat.

Freedigitalphots.net/artur84

He has had this one since he was around 3 and a half. He had another before that but it cracked and went in the bin. Whilst the seat is kept cleaned and germ free, its just so unnecessary.

We managed to remove dummies, bottles and sippy cups. We managed to get rid of nappies pretty easily too. We don’t even have the safety sheet on the bed anymore.

This thing, though, this plastic thing, which, should you be half asleep or dying for the loo and don’t realise is still attached will render you stuck to the loo in need of a shoe horn, we have suggested is the last bastion of his baby age and now, being a big boy, he needs to confine it to history too, is just a no no for Littlest.

He manages to use bathrooms at school with no problem. He goes to his Aunts homes and doesn’t need it there. Our house? Not a chance.

Before you get ideas I have toilets bigger than standard, with seats big enough to render a 5 year old be cast within like the scene from Trainspotting when Ewan McGregor falls in, this is not the case. Its a normal, standard loo, just like anyone elses.

We have tried hiding it. We have tried this several times and refuse to give it to him, with the idea that, as with when a fussy eater wont eat a meal they liked the week before that they will eat when they are hungry, that, eventually he will be so in need of the loo he will just go without it.

Nope.

He can last hours without going. Its a mystery how. And then, of course, we give in, because I think he is so bloody minded and stubborn that he would just do it in his pants to prove a point. Or end up with a terrible tummy ache and end up needing to see a GP.

Bloody hell.

We never had this with Mini, she was more scared of the trainer seat than the actual one, making the move from potty to loo simple and nearly hassle free.

So, Blog world, what do I do? Let him carry on and hope he gives it up naturally, or bin the thing and face the wrath of Littlest?

Answers below!

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Mini and the Tooth

Mini is growing up fast, she’ll be six next Wednesday- which frankly feels ridiculous as only a little while ago she still felt like a baby.

As such, the changes as she gets older have been more and more noticeable  She has lost her babyish face, she is very opinionated and knows why she has that opinion. The things that make her laugh are defined, and she loves certain music and hates others. Namely, she likes anything we don’t like and hates anything old.

The last bastion of babyhood has been her teeth.



Her school friend’s started losing their teeth before Christmas, so this has been a constant source of annoyance to Mini’s as hers resolutely refused to wobble, let alone fall out.
So, when she noticed one of her bottom front teeth was wobbly last weekend, she was over the moon.

Its steadily gotten looser as they tend to do, and I’ve had to tell her 50 times a day not to poke it, pull it or twist it. She kept asking when the tooth would fall out, why is she not allowed to take it out herself, and I even caught her inviting Littlest to smack her with his toy golf club to knock it out (golf clubs were promptly hidden in the cupboard). I did try and explain that it would fall out when it’s ready, that its making way for the new Big tooth which will replace it, and, as that tooth moves up, it moves the other tooth out the way. She wasn’t interested though- she wanted it gone so she can see the Tooth Fairy or see what the Tooth Fairy brings her, cash wise.

After reading one of her Charlie and Lola books, she decided she wanted an apple to help in the tooth removal process.

I bought her some today- there was no way I thought that an apple will remove a tooth before it’s ready.

Except Charlie and Lola were right. It did.


The whoops of joy at the tooth escaping were on a par with that advert where the kids get told they’re off to Disneyland. Clearly, if Mini ever did go to Disneyland, she’d explode with excitement if a tooth has that reaction.

The tooth is tiny. Its quite a strange feeling, that a tooth which once meant her changing from a baby to a toddler, from eating mush to eating proper food, and which at one point probably meant a few nights of disturbed sleep when she was teething, has now gone, to be replaced by the next stage in the growing up process.

I have no idea what the going rate is for the Tooth Fairy. Has she been effected by the recession? When I was a child you got 50p for tiny teeth and £1 for the bigger and superior back teeth. Mini wants £100. Not a chance!

So, what’s next in the child to tween process? It already feels like she grows every day.

She’s wobbling another tooth now. Think I’ll hide the apples!

Mini and the Scissors

Before

There I was, thinking this blog was going to move away from talking about the Bratlings as, frankly, now they are toilet trained, sleeping through the night and happy to amuse themselves, they make for pretty lacklustre blog fodder, when Mini had to pull a stroke of epic proportions.

As many will know from watching her grow up from a precocious 2 year old to a Diva-ish 5, Mini has long hair. She always has had long hair, and she’s been to a hair dressers only a few times. Yes, the length of her hair is annoying and takes ages to plait before school, not to mention to comb the two times she got nits last year, but its worth it.

Well, it was.



You know how Mini loves to sort her own clothes and likes to think of herself as a stylish little thing? Well, it seems she was bored of merely choosing her clothes, shoes and bags.

She thought she’d have a pop at her hair too.

I sent her to bed at 8 last night- she likes watching The Simpsons, then Big Bang Theory, and as the holidays are (thankfully) drawing to a close, she wont be able to stay up late much longer. Its not even dark until 10pm now so she often sits upstairs looking at books and playing Barbies. Which is fine, as she sleeps later.

All was normal up there, and I went to bed myself at about 11pm.

I got up at 7.30 as the neighbours are having their roof tiles replaced and their builders decided to start at 6.30, so I gave up trying to sleep and got dressed. Elder wanted to pop out to collect a parcel and grab some bits for our trip to Kent tomorrow and the kids sleep over at his eldest sister’s house, so he got the Bratlings dressed. He then asked me to chuck a hair brush down for Mini.

I then heard him getting increasingly concerned as he brushed. So I asked- what’s going on after he had asked her “what have you done to your hair Mini?”

I imagined that she may have gotten crumpet in it- she often gets chocolate spread or cheese in it in the morning as she chews her breakfast whilst half asleep and her hairs so long it kind of ends up going in too. Or perhaps she’d put some more glitter in like last week.

Oh no, nothing so boring as that.

She had, it seems, used a pair of kids “supposedly too feeble to cut butter” scissors from her art box to chop off whole chunks of hair from around her ears.

She was, we learned later, trying to copy Jessie J’s hairdo. She loves Jessie J, and I was always more inclined to allow this love than that of Justin Bieber’s musical earworms. Now I wish I hadn’t.

She looked ridiculous, all the really long hair was still at the back, reaching to her bottom, but the sides and some of the top was varied in length from to her shoulder to the top of her ears.

And after….


I cried.

I know, how ridiculous, cutting your hair is nothing, it’ll grow back. But I have spent hours brushing that hair, and I loved how shiny and long it was.

Elder, sensing impending Mummy melt down, decided to usher her to the car and off to the hairdresser, who did the best she could.

The thing is, she finds the whole thing hilarious.  She cried earlier and I asked if that was due to her showing me where she hid the hair (thank God she did as it was in a big furry ball shoved down the gap between her bed and table, I’d have thought it was a mouse and died) and wishing she still had long hair.
No, it was because she had upset everyone.

She loves her new “graduated bob” (ahem), says its not as heavy, doesn’t annoy her neck and she doesn’t feel as hot. She doesn’t regret it at all, she just wishes she’d let me take her to the hair dresser instead.

Her other comment was, whilst laughing her backside off, that it wasn’t her who cut it, it was a witch, who needed her hair for a spell. The bloody lunatic child.

The only thing she is slightly peeved over is that she may not get picked as an angel in the nativity, but a part from a this minor irritation, she is very happy with the outcome and fails to see that what she did was naughty. As she added before, its her hair, she should do what she likes with it- imagine what she’ll be like at 14 if this is what she is like at 5!

So, the days of long hair are over. For a year anyway at least. 

Mini: Not Such a Fitting Nickname Anymore

Mini, as you know, is now 5, and to be fair I was always told that starting school has a big effect on a child and their life.


I wasn’t quite expecting her to change quite so drastically though. Until a few months back, she was still quite happy to watch pre-school TV on CBeebies, listen to nursery rhyme albums at bedtime, and generally was just the same old Mini. 

The changes have been subtle but rapid. She has lost those baby features of her face, the chubby cheeks have gone and she looks staggeringly grown up- her height helps and she is often mistaken for two or three years older than her age on a weekend. She is super skinny, mainly down to her being unwell for four days after Britmums Live, so we are feeding her up again, but you’d think she has hollow legs as, no matter how many rich dishes I shovel in, she has hip bones teens would kill for. Her hair has gone from just one colour to having streaks of gold and brown that a hair dresser would be proud of achieving.


Its not just the physical either. She is less likely to throw tantrums, but she is a big softy. I had to ban her from watching The Voice in the end because, when the chairs didn’t turn for a singer, she got very upset on their behalf. She cried at Toy Story as well. I now find myself checking the content of programmes just in case! ET, for example, has been deemed a total non starter.


She has started throwing in words like “actually,””fabulous” and “gorgeous” when she talks, 95% of these are appropriately used and its comical when she does use them- she told her brother he looked “gorgeous and super cute” when he came down from getting dressed at the weekend. 


Then there is her love of different music. She loves Jessie J (although the album was downloaded we had to remove certain songs. I didn’t really fancy her singing Do It Like a Dude). She has suddenly developed an appreciation of Justin Bieber (a cross I feel  I have to bear after insulting my parent’s ears with years of Take That) and has a poster of him next to her bed now. Which I have caught her saying goodnight to.


She’s not so nervous now, and fiercely gaining independence from us both. She went to a friend’s party on Saturday and usually wants me to stay. This time, she told me to leave and come back later. She’s also been helping when the Nursery children pop into her class to see what it’s like there for September when they move up a year. Her teacher, who once found her a bit noisy and babyish when upset now says she’s one of the most naturally caring children she’s ever met, always ready to dish out hugs whenever needed.


Sometimes, when she turns round, I hardly recognise my little girl as this child she is now. She is such a pretty thing and her face is changing as the baby features leave.


Along with the baby features, my little Mini is not so Miniature anymore. But its lovely to watch the changes.



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Mini and The Specs

It would appear that Mini doesn’t just look like me. It seems she has also become another victim of the Curran “Blind as a Bat” syndrome too.



The “Blind as a Bat” syndrome affects every single member of my family, in one degree or another and on both sides of the family too. My Mother’s lot, as well as my sister, are only slightly afflicted, requiring the use of specs for reading and TV watching only. My Dad’s lot are the same as me, which means, should a freak accident occur and our specs are removed, we are pretty much rendered almost, but not quite, blind. We become a menace to society. I cannot see two feet in front of me without my glasses, although I do try. Anyone who witnessed me missing the large step down from the Recharge Room into the Main Room at Cybermummy last year will attest that me+no glasses due to vanity do not a good mix make.


I had started to notice that Mini was squinting at far away things, and that she was having issues with reading her letters too. I asked her teachers if they’d notice anything wrong, and they agreed. They have a game at school where they all take it in turns to read from the white board, and when she is right near it, she’s fine. The further back she goes, she finds it harder.


So, it was off to the Opticians. Which Mini finds a bit scary. With good reason too.


The first time she went, she was nearly 4, and I had been told that due to the family history we’d best get her checked. She knew her letters and numbers, and could spot shapes like birds, flowers and hearts, so off we went to one of three local opticians in our Town Centre.


It didn’t go well. The lady who conducted the eye test, despite me saying it was the first one she’d ever had, was very impatient. She huffed and puffed through the test, and was not great in manner towards a kid. In the end, Mini was petrified of her, she picks up on people’s attitudes pretty easily, and this lady’s was one of boredom and annoyance, so Mini just closed off. To the point where she asked me if Mini was “too slow and backward” to recognise simple pictures. We left pretty sharpish, with Mini in tears as she worked out the Lady was pretty mean about, and to her. 


The next time we went, to a different opticians, was just before she started school. She was so nervous, and really didn’t want to go, but, luckily, the next lady couldn’t have been more different. She was so bubbly and kid friendly, I think she obviously had to chose between a career as an Optician or working on Milkshake. That time, they said she was fine.


This time was different. Again she had a smiley, bubbly and friendly lady (seriously, Specsavers must really train their staff on interacting with kids) She did well with the bigger letters, and pictures, but as soon as they reached a small size similar to this font size, she couldn’t see (and, worryingly, I was sitting closer and couldn’t see. With my glasses on).


It seems Mini has an astigmatism, and is a little long sighted too. Oh no!


There is good news though- they want to see if, in 3 months time, wearing specs for school work, TV and board watching, and reading can sort it out for her. Which is practically what happened when my sister wore them at a similar age.


Mini is pleased- her friend K at school wears specs, and so now she has specs too, she is happy as Larry, the daft child!


I do feel bad for passing on my “Blind as a Bat” gene. But then, she does look pretty cute in the specs she chose! 


She was very good- she saw a Purple Hello Kitty pair, and that was that, she didn’t even try any others. As she has to wear them, I let her stick with them. 


Thank goodness she is such a good sport about it, I hated having to wear mine, and still do.