The Negotiation

It's been a little while since I last posted - and I'm kicking myself because Roo has been incredible, hilarious and beautiful all at once. These two conversations happened in pretty quick succession this morning, and I love them - they convey how she's growing up so quickly, yet still has so much to learn.

"Mummy! Look at the Indians!"

"Um... I think you mean Minions, Rubes!"

(Roo was rocking her amazing Despicable Me pyjamas at the time)

10 minutes later, I'm in the toilet. Ruby comes stomping in with one hand on her hip and her other hand in a 'thumbs-up' position.

"So, Mummy - I need you to do me a favour please. Get my Play-Doh out now. Yes?"

Brilliant.

The Big, Bad Wolf

Miss Ruby is obsessed with the Big, Bad Wolf. Seriously - she talks about him constantly, although not through fear, it's more just a morbid fascination. It started about a year ago, when on our many walks home from nursery, she would routinely and, if I'm honest, slightly unnervingly, assure me that "the Big, Bad Wolf is coming." What started as a way of ensuring I quicken my pace has turned into a game that we play 876 times a day on average - I am often cast in the BBW role, huffing and puffing and trying to second guess what her makeshift house is made from. Today, we were reading her second favourite book - The Good Little Wolf (her first choice? Little Red Riding Hood, obvs), when I asked her what the difference was between Rolph, the good little wolf, and the Big, Bad Wolf. She looked at me as if I were an alien before replying, somberly:

"Mummy, the Big, Bad Wolf is DANGEROUS. You must not touch him."

Like I needed any more convincing to keep my distance.

Fanny Face!

Driving home from nursery - the car is quiet, when all of a sudden:

'Fanny face!'

'Pardon?!'

'Fanny face!'

*trying not to explode*

'Ohhhhh, funny face!'

'Yes, man has fanny face'

'Did he?'

'Yes, he was SCARY...'

Hardly surprising if he has a face like a vagina.

The Lion

*After waking up at 7am*

'Well, Miss Ruby - that was a lovely lie-in!'

'NO, MUMMY - I'm not a lion, I'm a BIG GIRL!'

Fluff

"Dat got no fluff."
"Pardon?"
"Dat go no fluuuuurff!"

I'm sad, too.

Ruby and I have a pretty rigid bedtime regime. It's wash, teeth, pyjamas, milk, story (or two, depending on time) and bed. Recently, she asked me to hold her hand until she falls asleep; it's become part of our ritual and rarely do I feel more blessed than when I'm watching her drift off.

There are occasions though, when tiredness kicks in - for both of us, I suppose. Ruby will kick out or worse, hit me in frustration - I will get cross and the naughty step will come into play; I will hide around the corner feeling wretched (good old parental guilt) while Ruby screams blue murder, before I relent and sit with her, explaining that you don't hit the people you love, and who love you unconditionally in return.

Tonight was one of those nights. After settling her in bed, I sat at her side, holding her hand. She was staring at me, unblinking:

'What do you find, Mummy?'

'What do I want to find?'

'Yes, Mummy'

'Peace - I'd like to go to sleep and wake up with no worries, I suppose.'

(I'm fairly confident that this wasn't the answer she was expecting - although to be honest I don't think either of us understood the question)

'Peace. You bit cross and sad, Mummy'

'I was a bit cross and sad, yes'

'Because I hit you'

'Yes, baby - that makes Mummy sad because Mummy loves you very much'

'I'm sad, too'

'Why are you sad?'

'Because I hit you'

We had a big cuddle, and she turned over and went to sleep. I'm a mess. I want to wake her and tell her that there's nothing she could ever do that would make me love her any less. Welcome to parenting. Friggin' roller-coaster.

The Goth

Walking through a supermarket car park, there's a Goth standing outside. 
'Look daddy - lady. It's a lady.' 
'It's a man' 
*walking past*
'HELLO LADY!'