Pottering now, doing the slow and steady clean up between children going to bed and finally being able to sit down. This time is typically dotted with the big and the little wailing intermittently, one hitting her knee, the other hurling a dummy out of the cot. The first one needing to go to the toilet, the other missing her while she is gone… for two minutes… The time when the special teddies go missing and one cannot possibly even consider or begin to contemplate sleeping without that particular teddy (which is a different teddy to yesterday, by the way, but special all the same according to the source).
It’s the time of day when no one is really equipped to deal with any situation that arises. Least of all me!
We started reading Black Beauty the other night, and tonight I swapped it for one of the Winnie the Pooh novels, thinking it was more age appropriate… I mean, it’s nice reading classics but honestly… between Black Beauty and Enid Blyton’s short stories… anyone care to comment? I thought Birdie would be happy with the swift exchange, but no. She wants Black Beauty. Tears, yelling, etc. We finally sat down to read a chapter of Winnie the Pooh and she was fairly happy with the content. About five minutes ago (half an hour after reading books) I heard her yelling and thumping her pillow from the bedroom. I went in to find her in a furious dialogue with herself about how she doesn’t like Winnie the Pooh and that she really just wants to read Black Beauty NOW! Thump, thump, whack. The Pixie sat watching from her cot, highly entertaining stuff it seems. It was slightly reminiscent of Gollum and his Precious, just to give you a clearer picture. I cowered in the doorway until it seemed safe enough to enter and talk. Crisis averted.
Now she is out again, she wants more food, despite having sat at the dinner table for forty-five minutes refusing to eat.
Sigh. If someone invents a patience pill, please contact me.