Hi! <Waves>

Funny and honest tales from a made-to-work Dad of three, wobbling, graying, and laughing his way through parenthood. Armed to the teeth with Nerf guns, full of pie, fighting a chocolate addiction, but genuinely honoured to be at least half of Team Parents (yay!).

14 February 2017

Me Do It!...

BabyBoy2 is changing.
He's now a lizard. He is shrugging off the shackles of being two.
Casting down the trappings of his body and its basic motor controls.
Throwing asunder the gentle and loving support from Team Parent (yay!).
Basically now he wants to do stuff, himself.
<Give you a look>

Which can presents a few problems.
Some stuff he can't do. He may be two and a decent blob of months.
But he is still not three. (the world opens up at three, think oyster ownership, the world MWAH HA HA HAAAaaaaa).
For instance, getting in the car...

<Carries BabyBoy2 to the car ready to plug him into his car seat>
BabyBoy2: 'NOOOOOOOOO!' <Wailing etc..>
Dude? What's up mate?
BabyBoy2: <Surprisingly strong little arms and legs locked rigid against the door frame>
Nice try! <Pushes really hard>
<Resists forcing him… I've got time...>
What's wrong? Use words. Tell me what's wrong? What do you want?
BabyBoy2: <Through snivels and tears> 'Me do it' <Wailing>
Oh... Crap. OK mate. <Puts little boy down on the floor in front of the car door>
<Notices huge streak of snot down jumper>
BabyBoy2: <Bottom lip is still wobbling, but nods>
<Watches BabyBoy2 climb into the car on his own>
<Is still waiting as the new millennium passes>
<Has regrets>
<Tea is probably cold>

It's hard to let go.
<Dons cape, Miss6 arrives by my side with cape ready, and off we run, arms up>
I can't hold it back anymore!!!
It's hard to let BabyBoy2 grow up sometimes. It's what I want. It's what he wants.
More importantly it's what he needs.
BabyBoy2 has to keep growing up. There are only so many nappies I want to change.
And as with Boy9 and Miss6, as they developed, games just got better and more fun...

Boy9 I think you are NOW ready for this
<Deals cards>
It's a game, which my elder brothers claim they made up...
<Is doing mystical voice>
I've never met anyone else that knows this game...
<Waves hand, mystically>
And no one knows where it came from...
Boy9: 'You just said your brothers made it up'
... Do you want to play or not?
Boy9: 'Sorry.. mystical...'
Yeah... <Thinks> Ohhh I've lost my thread now...
Anyway mystical stuff, oh 'er, special secret family stuff, it's awesome, you'll love it
Boy9: 'Cool. Let's play'
Yes mate! <Sits ready to play, cards in hand>
Boy9: 'How do you play?'
Oh right... Get comfortable...
[There's a card playing montage, laughs, fights, tears, concentrating, dramatic slow mos]
[Months pass, we play every night before bed, Boy9 slowly gets it, starts to understand the nuances (oh yes nuances) of the game, and he slowly becomes a convert player]
Boy9: '... And then I can lay this, that and this... Which means you have to pick up ten cards!'
<Grumpily picks up ten cards>
Boy9: '... And then I lay all of these... And I win!'
<Quietly> … yes...
Boy9: 'Again! That's every night this week I've won!'
Uh-huh... Whateves...
Boy9: 'Another game?'
Sure! But let's change game...
I'm thinking dead arm competition?

(Boy9: ‘So am I doing well Dad?’
… Yeah really well… Say did I tell you about the magic hand rule?
Boy9: ‘No?’
Well if you  got… hang on <Double takes on own cards> if you get these cards
<Shows my cards>
You instantly win ALL the chips and the game is over! Lucky me!!!
<Takes all the chips>)

It's really hard to let BabyBoy2 do stuff himself.
Actually it's not. Given all the time in the world. It would be easy to sit and watch him joyfully try and try again. Slowly mastering what I consider to be simple tasks.
But there's never enough time.
Team Parent (yay!) are always rushing. Unless the three terrors are in bed. Then we are pretty static to be honest.
But we need that too.
The rewards though for letting BabyBoy2 try are huge.
I only have to look at Miss6 and Boy9 to see them.
They, mostly, can dress themselves. Even if their fashion sense and practical sense may need some work...
It's brass monkeys out there…
Boy9: <Looks confused>
It’s very cold. Minus five degree (celsius)...
Boy9: <Looks shocked that weather even exists>
This <Points at his thin summer jacket> is not warm enough!
Boy9: <Has a bit of a paddy, there's an argument, at one point he has no coat on, eventually I get my way (the sensible way)>
Boy9: <Grumpily heads out to the car>
<Notices Boy9 has shorts on>
<Swears quietly into some coats a lot>
<Regains composure, leaves it to natural consequences>
Heh heh
(Tony: We’re never gonna find it... Do you even remember where you last saw it?
Geoff: My helmet? My spare totally white helmet? Designed to blend in with snow?
Tony: Yes… <Taps blaster rifle>
Geoff: In the snow…
Tony: <Into radio> ...er… we’ve a man down here... )

But they can both do lots for themselves.
They can get toys out. Work the remote. Turn on the computer. Vaguely, with pushing and shoving, tidy stuff away. They can find my phone. BabyBoy2 is rubbish at finding things. He’s even worse than me (Lord of all bad findings).
They are both becoming autonomous the mouse leader of the Transformers.
It's great. It's what Team Parent (yay!) want.
It what should be happening.

<Heart fills>
But he's so little. And he's my last little boy. I don't want to let go just yet.
With every new skill he gets. He moves further away from being my baby boy. And this part of my life. With very little children.
And it’s all ending and stuff… <Kicks ground, ignores pain>... faster than I want it to.
<Weeps BIG STRONG MAN TEARS, hell they're like buckets of water splashing on the desk BOOM BOOM, its actually impressive, if not a little apocalyptic>
<Blows nose like a herd of elephants>

I know. I know.
Gotta let him go. Gotta let him become more... urghhhh... independent.
However I don't actually and technically have to be happy about it. Do I?
We've still got many years together when BabyBoy2 is going to need me.
And I best make the most of them…

BabyBoy2: 'Trains' <Points at big heavy trains box>
Trains what?
BabyBoy2: 'Pardon? Sorrwe? ... Pweeease!'
I am late for work… More than normal….
<Gets down box and sits and plays>
<Is double late for work>

However what I want doesn't really matter.
BabyBoy2 has two elder siblings to learn from. He is practically racing along on some things.
Other things not so much, as he has less of Team Parent (yay!) focus.
He's still in nappies at night (WHICH IS FINE), but the other two were out of them by this age.
He's ready. It's us. We are dragging our feet a bit (WHICH IS ALSO FINE).
We can only do our best. Which we are doing.
Which is, say it with me, is fine.

Don't worry about BabyBoy2.
Being the third child has made him more than capable at developing at his own rate.
And, more importantly, being able to remind us he needs to keeps developing at his own rate.
He showed us very clearly the other morning.
It was 6:15 ARGHGHGH WHY! WHY! Go back to bed Miss6! and Team Parent (yay!) was listening to BabyBoy2 calling for us.
He's smart enough to alternate each parent.
He's knows one of us will crack at some point...

BabyBoy2: 'Mummeeeeeeeee... get out! Me get out? Get out? Mummmmeeee'
<No movement from Team Parent (yay!)>
BabyBoy2: 'Daddeeeeeee get out! Me get out? Daddeeeeeee? Pweeeeese? Me get out?'
<Still no movement from Team Parent (yay!)>
BabyBoy2: <Suddenly Quiet>
<Team Parent (yay!) sink back to sleep, BabyBoy2 is safely trapped in his cage cot>
<Miss6 is told to stop talking, it is still sleep time>
BabyBoy2: 'ME DID IT!'
<Both of Team Parent (yay!) eyes ping open>
Mrs. Amazing: 'Miss6, go see what BabyBoy2 has done...'

She will get there quicker than us.
And Miss6 can be trusted to asses the situation and report back.
She’s awesome like that.

[From the hallway]
Miss6: 'Oh! Well done BabyBoy2'
BabyBoy2: 'ME DID IT!'
<Thuds of Miss6 running back to report>
Miss6: 'BabyBoy2 has climbed out of his cot'
<Team Parent (yay!) look at each other, the dreadful ‘he can escape his cot! We're never going to be able to sleep again!’ truth sinking in>
Mrs. Amazing: <Quietly to me, so Miss6 doesn't hear> 'Craaaaa...'


(Those bars cost money you know… <Is cross>)