Wednesday, 26 June 2019

21 Months: Don't lick the dog bowl


Recently when people have asked me how old River is, I very pedantically answer, 21 months. Jason's reply has been "uhhh, he's one?" since he was about 6 months old. But to be perfectly honest I don't think the people asking the question even care; small talk is limited when your child doesn't have a job or a stag do coming up so I understand establishing their age would seem polite. I should just admit to myself that he's almost two and move on. ALMOST 2.
At 21 months River is bossier, funnier and cuter than he's ever been. I squeeze him uncontrollably approximately 175 times a day because he's THAT cute. I'm fairly certain every parent thinks their child is the absolute creme de la creme, but honestly even when he's caked in his own snot and dribble, he's the best thing I've ever seen. 

He's become somewhat of an authoritative figure in our house, who has taken it upon himself to monitor our phone use. Jason and I have to look at our phones in secret because if he sees you on it, he knocks it out of your hand with absolutely zero expression on his face. He's terrifying. I understand that the mum police want your focus to be on nothing but your child for all 24 hours of the day and not scrolling through your phone, but sometimes you need a bit of a break from the never ending game of naming postman pat vehicles. We've established that you've got The sodding Greendale Rocket in your hand 30 TIMES, River, CAN WE MOVE ON?!
His fascination with cars, trains, trucks or pretty much anything with wheels is unwavering and he can spot a double decker bus from 3 miles away and lets you know by screaming BAAASSSS. His ideal holiday would probably be a tour of the UK's biggest multi-story carparks and to be fair, we're very ginger and/or pale in this family so it might not be the worst idea.

Alongside his ever growing independence, he has developed a strong sense of what he wants and doesn't want and he will let you know in a very matter of fact way. He has a highly animated NO reaction to things he doesn't like which is accompanied by a very aggressive and abrupt head shake. When it's something he does want, he will squeal excitedly and say ISSSS (jason won't accept that he's saying yes until it sounds perfect). Another new favourite of mine is his reaction to his own dirty nappies; he will say ERGHHH with absolute disgust at the dirty nappy until it is removed from his sight and it's so diva of him. Riv's a guy who knows what he wants and I can only respect and fear him for that. It's just tough as a parent when the thing he wants is to lick the dog bowl or pour all the porridge oats into a colander while you're trying to make dinner.  I never want to deprive my child of what he wants but I can't be ok with the entire contents of my freezer being tipped out on the floor just because he fancies doing it. Distraction techniques are wearing thin with River, he's definitely onto me and is fully aware when he's doing something he shouldn't, which makes it his one and only goal and no amount of bribery with trucks is going to stop him. Supernanny (who doesn't have any kids by the way, but lets ignore that for now) says not to use the word naughty and instead tell him that he's mischievous. Turns out he loves that. So thanks, 2004 Supernanny, your parental guidance is no longer needed here because my kid is continuing with his attack on the crockery. 

Rivs sleeping went right out the window for a couple of weeks which meant I could no longer differentiate between being asleep and being awake. Our house is quite odd even at the best of times so this feeling isn't something new; Jason recently sent me a series of photos he had taken at work of him feeding salt and vinegar crisps to a bird and then making it a cardboard box house with a pool and I honestly just dismissed it and assumed I was asleep. River had gone from sleeping beautifully for 12 hours a night with very little interest in the boob to screaming his way into our bed at 3am and wearing my boobs like a beer hat for 5 hours. The sleep deprivation made me feel like we had a newborn again, except this newborn doesn't lie asleep on your chest all day, letting you sleep and watch tv. No, this 'newborn' keeps you up all night, is running riot all day and confiscates the remote if you dare even think about putting something on TV (I told you, he's terrifying) Thankfully, touch wood, he seems to have slipped back into his usual routine and I'm blaming the blip on a growth spurt because his legs are now almost as long as mine and he's asked me my opinion on goatee beards.

We're going on holiday soon and it'll be Rivers first time on a plane so I'm praying that his alter ego, Mischevious Mike, isn't coming on the plane with us. Jason has threatened several times (which makes me think its more of a genuine suggestion than a threat) that he's going to request a seat at the opposite side of the plane to us and completely disregard us as his family until we have landed and got our suitcases on the other side. Jason is a very nervous flier so I think the reality of the situation is that I will have two children to handle on the plane and two children to distract with toy cars and colouring books. I will 100 percent need a weeks holiday to recover from my weeks holiday but we're all very much looking forward to it and I can't wait to have to wipe all that sand out of Rivers ass crack. Jase can do his own. 



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