My two-year-old cracks me up. Every day.
If you have read my first couple of blog posts, you will probably have already realised that he can be quite vocally demanding. Bossy, even. Show me a toddler who isn’t. But he is also quirky, mischievous and highly entertaining, and I love the bones of him.
Part of the reason for me starting to record his little sayings in writing is because I want to cherish them forever. Childhood is woefully short and I know that even his most utterly frustrating outbursts will raise a smile and even have me reminiscing in the future. His ‘little gems’ (as I call them) will have me laughing out loud.
Here is one of them.
At lunch time today I was asked to sing a song. Keen to sustain his good mood, I asked what he would like me to sing. We started with a thankfully fairly succinct version of The Wheels on the Bus, then entered into an enthusiastic rendition of If You’re Happy and you Know It.
So far so good. His little legs were jigging to the rhythm under the table. In between forkfuls he added the hand actions. His singing was endearing and even pretty much in tune (luckily it doesn’t look like he’s going to take after his dad in that department!).
“Incy Wincy Spider peease Mummy,” he asked politely. So I gladly complied. He doesn’t often request this and it brings back hazy but fond memories of my own childhood. We sang it once through with aplomb.
“Again!” he declared happily.
“No, no, no! NOT Incy Wincy Spider: Big FAT Spider!”
But of course. What else? And so another traditional rhyme is creatively adapted according to the whim of a toddler.
This is not by any means the first or only musical demand I have had thrust upon me. Also common in our household is:
“I want to dance, Mummy.”
Whereby the iPod is duly spurred into action. I have refused to download not yet got around to downloading any children’s songs onto it, but he takes great delight in boogying on down to a bit of Toots and the Maytals.
I take great delight in watching him try to coordinate his body in time to the music. His special move is all in the wrists! Then his imagination kicks in:
“Look at ME Mummy. I’m a lion!”
His favourite trick is to reach up on tiptoes and whack the volume up REALLY loud. When I am not sighing in exasperation, I am smiling broadly as I remember the days when I too used to have regular opportunities to get completely lost in music.
“Let’s make music, Mummy!”*
Which involves him emptying the whole box of toy instruments out onto the wooden floor with an Almighty clatter, then proceeding to bash and crash with much force on his drum, xylophone and pretty much any other hard surface within arm’s reach. If we’re especially lucky, the toy trumpet and the toy CD player will also be worked into the repertoire.
“I want a CDdvd on for breakfast. PEEASE?”
Daddy is the sucker for this one. My morning head is not usually in the zone to comply. I want to sometimes listen to the news like a normal human being. But at the weekends, we are often listening to songs from his baby signing class or a number from the Julia Donaldson boxset that he got for Christmas. Then, by default, I am singing them either out loud or (worse) on repeat in my head for at least the next 24 hours.
And when I decide to put on some chill out tunes for myself or listen to the radio?
“I NOT LIKE this, Mummy. Mummy switch it OFF!”
* This is most often requested when I’m just getting/have got the baby off to sleep.