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!).

10 January 2018

Noisy but Tiny...

Something has changed in BabyBoy3 over Christmas.
It's almost as though his internal volume has been turned up.
I suppose he has always been a bit loud when he’s playing and having fun.
But all of a sudden he seems to be operating at 11...

BabyBoy3: ‘OK Miss6 let’s try it now… aahhh ahhh’
Miss6: ‘Nope’ <Shakes head> ‘Can’t really hear you?’
BabyBoy3: ‘How about NOW? CAN YOU HEAR THIS?’
Miss6: ‘Yes that’s better, but can you any louder?’
BabyBoy3: ‘IS THIS BETTER???
Miss6: ‘Yes! That’s the volume’ <Has hands over ears>
<They high five on a job well done>

(Inside voice on left, outside voice on right…)

Obviously Team Parent (yay!) had a chat about it.
Not just because the increased volume was starting to get into our heads a bit. But also because BabyBoy3 seems to have stopped listening as well.
My first thoughts are that there is something jammed in his ears. Which is adjusting his volume and hearing. A crayon maybe, the lost Paw Patrol dog, brio track, Miss6...
But after a quick Maglite (I always have one on me, I'm that kinda of secret agent Dad, armed) check all I can see is some ear wax. Ew. And that Team Parent (yay!) need to be a bit more ruthless when cleaning his neck, as it's a bit mucky.
BabyBoy3 hates having water near his ears. So our slip on cleaning that part of him can, I feel, be forgiven a little bit. As it's not normally worth the fight...

OK BabyBoy3, we'll just rinse out your hair, lay down… good boy...
<BabyBoy3 lays super carefully in a inch of bath water>
There we go... <Is rinsing it out> All clean...
<Super calm voice> Now... We'll just wash your ears...
BabyBoy3: 'NONONONO!!!NO!!NOOO!!!!' <Quickly rolls over, hides face under arms>
You know... That's not very helpful...
<Is faced with BabyBoy3's bum sticking up at me>
Might as well clean that whilst I'm here... Brace yourself...
<Lots of giggling>

But what has caused this increase in volume?
We've no idea. It could just be Christmas, which BabyBoy3 found hella exciting.
From start to finish the little lad squealed and shrieked with excitement with almost everything Christmasy related. Fair play. He’s three. And Christmas ROCKS.
It was soooo lovely to see. And being the foolish Team Parent (yay!) that we are, we clapped and laughed along, and gave tonnes of attention to him every time he squealed or shrieked.
So it could be that.

But something tells it isn't.
In fact something tells me we are never gonna work out what has caused this change. As it could be loads of things really: BabyBoy3 keeps getting bigger so maybe his little lungs have just got bigger, and with that increase in air space, an increase in volume has resulted. Maybe he's just got more to say and volume is his way of getting attention. It works for Boy10. Obvs. the hearing answer is still on the table.
See loads of things. Three at least.

There’s a funny side effect of this volume increase.
BabyBoy3 seems bigger. He seems to take up more space in the world. Not in a physical way. But the sound space he now occupies has got larger.
It's the same with Miss6 and Boy10. When they are not about Team Parent (yay!) notice the sudden drop in noise and the house feels huge. It's hard to explain.
It's like a colleague at work that's all noisy and talks loudly on their phone all the time. Then they nob off on hols (the selfish swines)... and suddenly the office is quiet...

[Eerie quiet]
Er... Hello? <Leans around monitor> Is anyone there? Hello?
<Walks about a bit, finds no-one>
Hello? ... Where have you all gone? Was there cake and no-one told me?
[Even more eerie quiet]
I like cake too!?
[Cleaners bustle in]
Cleaner: 'Wow! You're here late! That’s not like you?
Rude! I'm WHAT? <Checks clock> CRAP!
<Leaves immediately>

(Friend: ‘Have you lost weight?’
Yeah… but I’ve grown these ears…
...and a tail <Is worried>
Friend: ‘And what’s up with your cheeks?’
I’m storing cheese for the winter...
Friend: ‘Oh…’ <Is worried>)

It also means that I spend a fair bit of time telling BabyBoy3 to be quieter.
In fact my favourite expressions for this are:
1. Dude! I am sat right next to you, stop shouting at me!
2. Inside voice! Inside voice, please!
3. ARHGHGGH that's right in my ear! DUDE!
4. If you want me, come and find me, stop hollering my name!
Now... What did you want?
<Shows me the LEGO he has made>
It's amazeballs... <Is not that thrilled to have left what I was doing to be shown this>

It came to head yesterday.
I had been spring cleaning. Which meant I had half of my tools out of my shed and had spent a delightful morning painting the down-stairs toilet. Banging tunes blocking out everyone else, whilst I painted, hoovered and dusted. Lovely.
Leaving poor Mrs. Amazing to battle with troops all morning solo. She was promoted to  ‘Absolute Ruler of Everything in the Entire Universe Forever’ again for her hard work and dedication to the cause.

When I had finally finished.
We all bundled into the car and headed off for a fun family outing. Me and Mrs. Amazing in the front. Miss6 and BabyBoy3 in the back. Boy10 travelled in another car (long story, another time).
Within the space of ten minutes and with Miss6 and BabyBoy3 super excited about our trip out. And a bit nuts anyway. I had lent around four times to ask / tell BabyBoy3 to quieten down. I wasn't even driving. But suddenly now in the car. In that confined space. BabyBoy3's voice was too big for me and it was drilling into my head.
Just like a sledgehammer drilling into a grape.

Mrs. Amazing however was not struggling.
Mrs. Amazing had spent the morning with Miss6 and BabyBoy3 and was used to it.
Not liking it mind. But used to it.
She told me so too and I realised who the problem here was. It wasn’t BabyBoy3.
So I shut up and started to put up.

Anyhoo… the tale...

BabyBoy3 awoke at 4:MERCY AM this morning.
I hear. As it was Mrs. Amazing that has relayed this to me. I was very skillfully and utterly asleep, dreaming of being warm and toasty in bed and able to sleep for at least an hour or two more. Great dream.
But just a dream.

At about 5:30 AM.
Mrs. Amazing sweetly turned to me and amazingly managed to wake me.
And said (something like, I may have made this up paraphrased)...

Mrs. Amazing: 'Please can you take him?'
Mrs. Amazing: 'I've been up since the Paleolithic period...'
<Answers in eye movements as mouth not working yet>
<Manages to convey yes>

I am pretty sure Mrs. Amazing was expecting me to leap into action.
She's optimistic like that. I did hit my Storm Trooper (clock) on the head to see what the time was. So I could make the best plan possible. ARGHO’Clock.
My plan had to be weighted with the problem that Miss6 had to stay asleep. Ergo, BabyBoy3 could not go play in his room on his own. As he V. noisy.
Nor could we sneak down for Cartoons, as BabyBoy3 V. noisy, and Miss6 will hear the tele.
Also there was no way I was getting up at 5:30AM to go watch cartoons. The heating hadn't come on yet.
It would be freezing down there.

(Maybe a slight exaggeration... the Christmas tree has gone...
We've less snow on the floor normally... and follicly I am more challenged...
Boy10: <Shouts from far away> 'YOU MEAN BALD DON'T YOU? AH HA HA HAAA!'
Ignore him... follicly challenged...)

So in the best of Dad moves.
I did nothing and let BabyBoy3 sneak between us both in bed.
I did ask him nicely if he wouldn't mind going back to sleep for a little while.
BabyBoy3 said yes. Good chap.
Mrs. Amazing rolled over with a clear 'Do not disturb' aura about her back.
And with confidence in BabyBoy3, I closed my eyes again.

15 milliseconds later.
I had another quiet word with BabyBoy3 about the noise.
And feet in faces. And low kicks. Ow.
At one point I realised that in the tiny gap between Mrs. Amazing and me, BabyBoy3 was laid out sideways. Sideways! How tiny is he! His little face peering into mine and his feet resting on Mrs. Amazing's back.
Moments later. Another word. Which BabyBoy3 decided the best way to listen to me would be to stand up in our bed. And bounce a bit.
I disagreed.

At 6AM I gave in.
The heating had come on. And asked BabyBoy3 if he would like to go watch cartoons with me downstairs...

<Whispering> Quietly... <Gives look>
BabyBoy3: '... sorry daddy... shhhh' <Puts finger over mouth hella cutely>

We stopped to get BabyBoy3's dressing gown.
Which he doesn't likes wearing. But as that's what you do in the morning. That's what he does.
We put it on. Me knowing it won't last more than a minute downstairs. But whatevs.
I grab his duvet too as I want to be a lot warmer than I am right now.
And then, despite a lot of noise from one of us...

<Barely audible>... yes... shhh...
BabyBoy3: 'OK!'
[Thud thud on stairs]

We made it downstairs.
Without waking Miss6. Result. I turned the tele right down and we snuggled under the duvet together. Which I hella love doing. I’m a cartoons fan anyway but I utter love getting some extra time with BabyBoy3. Just us.
It's always amazebadgers.

(Hella cute)

Then we argued.
Me Vs. BabyBoy3. Because in BabyBoy3’s world when you wake up, you get chocolate milk.
That is how it always done, and how it should always be done, and will always be done.
I, on the other, refused very clearly to make chocolate milk until it was official wake up time, 6:30AM. BabyBoy3 does not understand and starts crying.

Oh no little fella!
That is not happening! We haven't been working hard to not wake Miss6 for you to now wake her. Blackmailing some chocolate milk out of me with your crying!
NO! I'm the flipping adult... <Checks> yeah! We do things my way!

So I tell him off.
Just a very little. But the message is clear, no milk until 6:30AM and if you wake Miss6 up?... Well... then... Daddy will be pretty cross, and basically powerless to do anything about, as you're only three, but the threat… Oooo yeah! Just pay attention to the threat, ignore the details.
<Does mystical hands>

Somehow it works and BabyBoy3 stops crying.
Then my little boy goes uber cute on me. UBER. He wriggles over right next to me under the duvet, leans against me, and puts his hand on my back. BLESS!
His little feet under the duvet don't even come up to my knees.
If I lent out my arm I could happily and comfortably rest my arm on his head (which he doesn't like).

It's then that BabyBoy3 seems to shrink.
And becomes tiny again. As all the noise around this little boy goes. It just seems to disappear.
Left sat next to me quietly watching Bob the Builder (the new-style US version SUUUUUUCKS), is a tiny little boy. Just three. That has been acting so big lately I had kind of forgotten just how little he really is.
<Heart utterly melts for him, and he isn't even doing anything>
I put my arm around him and he snuggles into it.
<I'm basically fighting back tears now>
And we just sit, and giggle, about Bob being a twat and utter US sellout doing his job poorly.
As normal...

BabyBoy3: <Whispers with spit> 'Daddy... Is it time for milk yet?'
<Checks time, it's 6:30AM on the dot> Yeah mate...
BabyBoy3: 'Me help you?'
BabyBoy3: 'YAYY!' <Runs to kitchen>
<Takes a minute to re-solidify heart (that melted) and remove mysterious moisture streaming from eyes>
Right! Can you get the milk out?...
<Is uber glad to have these moments with BabyBoy3, despite the earlyness (real word)>
<But may refrain from mentioning that to Mrs. Amazing>

(BabyBoy3: ‘Me help’
Cool… Oh wait… Hang on… careful now!!!
BabyBoy3: ‘Oppsie!’’
<Gets cloth>)

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