Saturday, December 12, 2009

Who knew you could get Jumping Castle Rage?

When is a park not a park? When it's hosting a 'private party.' Visiting a local park for a bit of a play and some morning tea, Alex's eyes lit up when he spied a jumping castle set up on some grass. To the side of the jumping castle was a group of people milling around doing vaguely social things like eating and drinking, a few kids in tow. Your basic Christmas meet-up scenario.

Alex ran over to the jumping castle and asked a man standing in front of it how much it was for a go. He told Alex to go and ask one of the ladies in the nearby group. There were only a few kids on the thing, so I thought, they'll probably let him have a 5 minute go and then off we go, every one's happy.

Alas, this is where the story turns sour. A woman smugly informed me that the jumping castle was for their "private party" and no, we could not have a go. Actually, she informed Alex of that fact as he was the one who had asked for a turn. (Maybe she wasn't smug but this is a retrospective account and I'm so annoyed that she looks smug from where I'm sitting right now.)
"But at least you asked," she continued, "we've had to get kids off there this morning who just walked up and got on without asking!" Imagine that, I thought, kids getting on an unattended jumping castle in a public park!

"Thank you!" she trilled, indicating we should get lost now. Alex expressed his disappointment with a bit of a whinge but was otherwise impressively stoic for a three-year-old. We headed towards the regular playground instead, (the one marked with a sign, 'for the plebs').

Unfortunately most of the play equipment at the park had been set on fire by vandals and resembled a scene from Apocalype Now so no joy there either. I offered Alex a consolation piece of watermelon. He threw me a withering look (but took the watermelon).

Next thing later a Santa turned up in a company ute. "Look, there's Santa!" Alex called, his hopes rising once more. Unbelievably, one of the mums from the 'private party' group overheard Alex's exclamation and turned around to shout back, "Not for you!" (This time there was no mistaking the smugness). It was one time in my life that I was truly too shocked to respond.

Of course, with the arrival of Santa all the kids who'd been on the jumping castle vacated it to mob the red-suited guy, leaving the castle mocking us in its emptiness. It was all I could do not to smuggle Alex on to it and tell him to go for his life. Picturing the potential ensuing mama-biff (which I did actually picture in a fair amount of detail - I'd take my earrings off if I wore any, and yank that pony tail to the ground if she had one) I took the lover-not-fighter route and stayed where I was.

I know when I'm beat by a bad-vibe park. Alex knew it too. There was nothing for it but to raise the white flag. Contraband jumping castle on one side, ashy remnants of a choo-choo train on the other, we two forlorn figures trudged glumly back to the car. Good times.

Friday, December 11, 2009

The ins and outs of Santa

Alex is working on wrapping his mind around this Santa thing. As is his wont, he is asking many and varied questions to get a grip on how it all works. The other day he expressed some scepticism. "Mum, I don't know how that guy can take presents to every kid in the world at one time," he mused, rhetorically I hoped. "You wouldn't be the first kid to think that," I commented by way of response.

Also, no photos with Santa again this year, because "I don't want to sit next to a guy dressed as Santa, you can just tell him what I want instead."

His pre-school teachers must be more convincing than me. "Mum, Jess has a hippo on her roof eating cake, and Emma has to use a ladder to go up on the roof and get it down!" he announced wide-eyed. So he buys that, but still, the Santa thing has holes in it.

And finally, a comment on Santa's digestive system. After going to the toilet himself, Alex commented, " Santa must do lots of poos." Dare I ask why? "Because of all that food kids leave out for him to eat, he must have to poo a lot."

"Alex," I replied, "you may well be the first kid to think that."

Party time!

There is nothing so precious as the dawn of first memories, snatches of time from when you were a small child where you can recall having the time of your life. It was probably a simple pleasure, something experienced for the first time that provoked a sense of wonder that is hard to re-capture.

Alex went to his first proper night-time party last night. When I say 'proper', it finished at 8pm, but he was specifically invited to it and he stayed for the duration. In fact, we had to virtually drag him out of there. If this is a sign of things to come, he'll be the last one standing, with a 'work it till you can work it no more' philosophy.

Personally, these days I love a party that ends at 8pm. Very civilised indeed. It was the end of year day care party, complete with sausage sizzle, BYO salad, and a jumping castle. Those folks know what kids want - fake tattoos, singalongs - Alex was dazzled and didn't know where to start. Except, of course he did. On to the jumping castle he went, and there he stayed for close to 2 hours, forsaking food and drink in order to keep jumping higher, higher.

I had given the kids a bath before we left, partly so that we at least arrived at the party clean, and partly because I knew it would be late when we got home and no way would I be attempting it then. When we got in the car AFTER bathtime, Alex knew this was a pretty special event. "We're not ready to go to bed!" he cheered in the back seat, "We're going to WORK OUR ENERGY instead!"

At the party he only got off the jumping castle to give interim reports about the state of his relationship with a 7 year old boy who had become his nemesis during the jumping festivities. It started with a bit of biff, before they grudgingly called a truce and spent the remainder of the evening following/bossing each other around. "He's pushing me now!" Alex would jump off to announce, returning to the jumping castle before waiting for a response.

In the car on the way home, tired and exhilirated, Alex's final words before dropping off to sleep were, "I want to do that again some time." Don't we all, son, don't we all!

Thursday, November 26, 2009

No manners

Alex, seeing bird poo on our back deck, said, "Those birds need to learn to use the toilet!"

Can't wait

Alex: "I need it to be Christmas TODAY!"

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Two cute

Today we had a doctor's appointment for both kids - Maya to be immunised and Alex to have his asthma checked. First up, Maya got her injection. She cried a bit, but calmed down pretty quickly. Alex hid behind a partition in the room by way of support for Maya (that's my positive spin on it - he was overcome with empathy and couldn't bear to watch his sister being hurt - the other side being he was hiding just in case he was next)... when his turn came, the doctor lifted his shirt and listened to his breathing. Indicating Alex's pot belly, the doctor asked, "Do you drink beer?" Alex was deadpan. "No, I don't like the taste of it." The doctor looked surprised, asking, "Have you tasted it?" Now Alex looked surprised, answering no. "Well then how do you know that you don't like it?" Teased the doctor. Alex shrugged. "It's man stuff." (big sigh).

Maya was watching this exchange closely, and decided to interject by placing herself in between Alex and the doctor, wrapping her arms around his chest and saying, (her first full sentence spoken spontaneously rather than mimicking), "I love you."


Monday, November 16, 2009

Let the negotiations begin

So this Santa concept is an odd one. Last year, Alex was petrified of anything to do with Santa - the concept of a strange guy in our house, men dressed up as Santa, the loud Ho-ho-hoing, he didn't want a bar of it. This year, he's fascinated to know the nuts and bolts of it. I've kept the whole idea very low profile because I know that it could bring up some very tricky questions. Although I'm not opposed to bribery per se, I'm not sure that I want it used for the next 2 months as a way of keeping Alex in line when eventually he'll realise that the whole thing's a ruse because there's no way he's going to end up with no presents. Also, and I know this is a stretch for a 3 year old, I'm uncomfortable with the whole idea that the 'better' behaved you are, the more presents you get.

A friend of mine who was visiting inadvertently opened the can of worms. Thinking she was doing me a favour, she told Alex that if he was good, Santa would bring him lots of presents, but if he was naughty, he wouldn't get any. Furthermore, she added, Santa would know if he'd been good or bad because he could see what Alex was up to all the time. Alex trotted off and let the novelty of this idea roll around in his mind for a while. My friend looked at me with some smugness and told me I could thank her later for sorting out my child's behaviour at least until Christmas.

A few hours later (after my friend had left, of course) it came to pass (inevitably!) that Alex's curiousity was peaked. "Mum." he started, "Eddie whacked me the other day. Does that mean Santa's not coming to him?" I tried to explain that Santa kind of takes an aggregate of your general behaviour, and if it's mostly good then that's probably ok, and as I'm not Eddie's mum, or Santa, I have no idea what's in store for Eddie. (How do I explain that some kids are too poor to have Christmas presents even though they're not naughty? Is a need-to-know basis thing?)

"OK," he continued, "so what if I'm good when I'm 4 or 5? Then can I still get presents this year?" I explained that it's not a buy now, pay later system.

"What if I try reaaally, really hard, to be good, but sometimes I'm not?" I could see he was trying to sort out the boundaries of this thing, make the idea a little more concrete. (His dad's an engineer, he can't help it, it's genetic). We settled on the idea that he would try to be as nice to every one as he possibly could, and that there was a very high likelihood that Santa would indeed bring him a present. I left the whole discussion about 'good' and 'naughty/bad' for another day. Usually I try to focus on the emotion he's feeling (angry/sad/happy) rather than good/bad/naughty behaviour but it's going to come from other sources so that's a discussion for another day.

So the 'be good or Santa won't come' line lasted approximately 2 hours before it was thoroughly trounced by my analytical little boy.

Everything old is new again

I was bending down, changing Maya's nappy as she stood beside our parked car on the footpath (as you do), when an elderly lady with a walking stick stopped to say hello. She commented that she was too old to bend over like that, and it's just as well you have kids when you're young. As she walked off, Alex asked me why she needed a walking stick. I explained that sometimes when you get old, you need things to help you walk.

Alex considered this. "Mum, are you old?" he asked me. "Hmmm, no, not really," I replied.

"So," he concluded, "you must be new!"

Thursday, October 15, 2009

A singular focus

Alex wandered in from the lounge room and announced, "I would like a Jat."

I told him he couldn't have any Jatz right now as we were just about to eat dinner.

"No, Mum," he corrected me, "I didn't say I wanted Jatz, I only want one. Just one Jat."

A curious mind

Sometimes (ok, a lot), Alex continues with a specific line of questioning until the answer I give is inevitably "I don't know" or "let's ask Dad". Sometimes (ok, a lot) this is because I genuinely don't know or genuinely want his dad to answer, but often it's because I can't think of a way to explain the real answer in simple enough language to both satisfy his curiousity and prevent a further line of questioning.

Alex was in the bath running water through his hands and the conversation went something like this.
A: Mum, why is water wet?
Me: Because it's a liquid.
A: You can't carry liquid can you?
Me: Well, you can if you put it in something solid like a cup.
A: Are toys solid?
Me: Yes.
A (holding a big round bubble from the bath on the flat of his palm): Yook! I'm carrying bubbles. Is a bubble liquid?
Me: Let's ask Dad.

Dad proceeded to dazzle us with explanations about the surface of the bubble forming a meniscus and therefore being a liquid that was in fact able to be carried without a supporting solid apparatus. Glad we got that sorted out. Did I mention Alex is 3?

Friday, September 25, 2009

Anatomy of a cow

Alex enjoys long conversations in the car. Maybe question and answer sessions is more accurate - him questioning, me trying to think of a plausible answer while negotiating afternoon traffic. He could be the next Kerry O'Brien.

Here's an excerpt:

Alex: 'Mum, where are a cow's boobs?

Me: Well, they're called udders and they're underneath their body...

Alex: They're near their bum aren't they? (giggles)

Me: Well, yes I suppose so...

Alex: Do they have two boobs near their bum or one?

Me (feeling a bit ddefensive about the use of the term 'boobs' to describe a cow, especially as I am currently breastfeeding Maya): Well, they're called udders Alex and they only have one

Alex: If they only have one why did you say UDDERS and not UDDER?

Me (thinking, is it because there is more than one teat, how do I explain that???): Well I suppose I was describing more than one cow

Alex (apparently satisfied with this, discontinues questioning and decides to issue a summation): SO, the cow's udders are near its bum, and if they had them up here (I suppose he gesturing to his chest but since I'm making a left turn I can't see) and then they stood up straight the baby cow wouldn't be able to reach them to get any milk so they have to have them down near their bum so the baby cow can reach them I want to go to a farm and see a baby cow drinking milk from its mum's boob can I mum?

Listen with your ears

Alex and Maya were happily sitting in the trolley as we cruised the supermarket aisles. This was a triumph in itself. Suddenly, Alex called out, "Apple juice!" and pointed...immediately I responded, "No, Alex, we've got some apple juice at home, we're not getting any more."

Alex looked at me and gave an exasperated sigh, "Mum! Listen with your ears! I didn't ask for you to buy any apple juice, I just said 'apple juice' because I love it."

Point taken.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Numero Uno

The vagaries of the English language are difficult to explain to a three-year-old. Alex has started racing to places (ie, the car, the kitchen) before declaring, "I'm one!" after which I say, "You won!" and he corrects me, "No, I AM one, you're two and maya's three." He seems to get that he's actually three (as in, years old) and Maya's actually one, but when it comes to racing, number order is all there is, he's not grasping the winning and losing part of it yet.

Due concern

This is a sweet, rather than funny, anecdote. Yesterday Alex became concerned that I was thinking of putting Maya into child care - maybe he'd overheard the tail end of a conversation I'd been having with some one else and mis-interpreted it.

"Mum, why do the babies at day care don't matter?" he asked me. It took me a minute to figure out what he meant - sometimes he substitutes mind for matter (maybe confusing 'never mind' with 'it doesn't matter'? I find kids language development fascinating, but I digress...) - he meant why don't the babies at day care mind being left there (because Maya protests every time I leave the room). I explained that they were used to being there and that the teachers took care of them while their mums and dads were at work. "But I don't want you to do that to Maya, she's too little," he said, "she would cry too much. I'm a bigger boy so I like being at school and playing with my friends. Babies shouldn't leave their mums for that long. If we left her there, she'd cry so we'd have to go back and get her straight away."

I thought the empathy was really sweet. Perhaps he's been reading Steve Biddulph?

High Five?

Recently Alex picked up a picture book called 'A Bug's Life' (based on the animated film) for 50 cents at a garage sale. Since it's mainly about ants, Alex has re-named it 'An Ant's Life' which hasn't caused a problem until I told him that there was a DVD of the book, and he wanted to watch it.

Today it was time for a treat, so I phoned JB Hi-Fi to check whether they had any in stock. Alex asked to be put on the phone. "Hello? Do you have an Ant's Life?" the sales assistant obviously tried to explain that the movie was either Antz or A Bug's Life, and they are two separate movies. Alex became frustrated so I took over the conversation. Once I'd established that they did have A Bug's Life (only $12.95, movies have gotten cheaper since back in my day), we set off to the shop.

On the way, Alex mused, "What happens to JB Hi-Fives when they run out of Hi-Fives?"

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Secret boys business

As happy as I am that Alex is learning all sorts of new things at pre-school, where for example they made a 'volcano' erupt in the sand-pit the other day, it leads to some interesting at-home experiments.

I was changing Maya's nappy in her room when I heard Alex's footsteps going backwards and forwards between the kitchen and bathroom (which has the only sink in the house that he can reach without assistance). "What are you doing Alex?" I enquired.

"It's ok Mum," he reassured me, "I'm only doing things that are allowed. Nothing else." This was followed by clattering, running water and him mumbling instructions to himself.

When I ventured in to see what he was up to, I found a jug full of water next to a cup and assorted cutlery. Alex was pumping sorbolene into the jug, thankfully having decided not to use the expensive hair product or hand lotion. "It's just an adventure," he shrugged. I think he meant experiment.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Herbie a has-been?

"Mum, I'm too old for Herbie now," Alex announced out of the blue one morning. "I still like Minis, but Herbies were for when I was around 2."

An age-old question

Climbing into bed with Alex to lie down and read him a story and wait until he falls asleep, I asked, (almost rhetorically), "Alex, when are you going to be able to take yourself off to bed by yourself?"

He appeared to consider this question and replied, "When I'm five."

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Not for the faint-hearted

Alex has been ill recently, but still managed to do a running commentary of events in between reaching for the bucket.

Sitting in bed, Alex says, "Mum, I'm going to bomit. I need the bucket." in a forlorn kind of a way. I rush out to get the sick bucket while he dutifully waits for me to return. Sighing wistfully, (as if to say 'here we go again') he reaches for the bucket and neatly deposits the contents of his stomach into it (tried to think of a way to say it more delicately than that, couldn't).

When it's over, he looks at me and says,"You know, when you eat, you chew the food, it goes down your neck and into your tummy. When you bomit, it comes back up your neck and out your mouth. It's pretty tricky that way." I agree that yes it's tricky and not nice, but he's doing a great job. He shrugs. "It was the pancakes." (as in 'whatta ya gonna do? you mess with pancakes, you pay the price')... personally at the time I thought it was the croissant, chocolate egg, hot chocolate and half a Tim Tam he'd had throughout the day (not our best ensemble parenting, one of us thought we'd given him too much without realising the other had done the same!)... turns out it was an ear infection! Still, maybe we won't be repeating the chocolate overdose any time soon...

Thursday, July 2, 2009

An Alex retrospective

Just thought I'd add in these snippets from days gone by:

Alex, age 19months, the tortured artiste is taken to a music shop by Pa, wants to bang on all the drums and pull all the guitars off their racks. Indignant at being forcibly removed from the shop, he kicks and screams as he's carried away, screaming: "I just want to play music!"

Alex, age almost 2 strokes Chris' hair for a while before farewelling him off to work. About halfway through the day, he turns to me and remarks, "Daddy's got a really nice head."

Alex, age 2 years 2 months after it's been raining, wipes his feet on the front doormat then leans down into a perfect downward dog, and wipes the top of his head too (to get the rain off).

Treating his newborn sister like a toy (that belongs to him): "I love Maya! Cuddles... I just NEED to cuddle her!" and later, in a more gentle tone, "oh! look at her tiny ears! She's got eyebrows!"

A month or two later, when Chris picks her up, Alex sternly instructs: "Pick her down, Daddy!"

Alex, 2 and a half Chris says he needs some moolah to get stuff from the shops. Alex disappears into his room and come back with his flannelette blanket with the cow pattern on it, announcing, "I got the moolah!"

Alex eats dinner with his bike helmet on. He uses my breast pad as a coaster and does a little tap dance under the table as he eats.

Alex, 2 years 9 months is very anxious about Santa Claus. Won't go near one, doesn't like the idea of him. Repeatedly asks Chris to explain the concept. "Does he come into our home?" "How does he get in?" etc etc. Finally, suggests that Daddy goes to the shop to get the toys, and just brings them straight home for him. Leave Santa out of it. At the playgroup Christmas morning, Alex just about overcame his fear by sidling up to the fake Santa, grabbing the present and making a dash for it. (It seems fear of Santa may be genetic, I remember doing and thinking the same thing)

Alex, age almost 3

Dobbing in his 10 month old sister: "Mum, Maya's not sharing!"

"Sue likes whippersnippers. She likes the noise they make. Rose likes monster trucks. They are trucks that have monsters in them."

"Mummy, who makes it night time? What does God like to eat?"

Gazing out the car window as sky becomes increasingly overcast: "Look at those dark grey clouds mummy, I think God's closing his doors!"


We have one of those side-by-side double prams that fits through an average doorway but the price you pay is supermarket-trolley style wheels that aren't fit for any surface but smoooooth shopping malls.

Chris was pushing both kids in said pram along a too-narrow footpath, huffing and puffing (fairly theatrically I would imagine, in the way men do when they want to emphasise the effort they're going to, but I wasn't there) as he tried to negotiate the stones, cracks in the pavement, etc.

"What's wrong Dadda?," Alex asked, and, as if to show his proficiency in using new words in their correct context, suggested, "Is it the bloody stones?"

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

This is not a chicken

Maybe Alex will be a surrealist painter, or maybe he's just got a taste for the absurd.

We were reading Maya her bedtime story, which consists of images of animals with the word for the animal underneath.

"Chickens, Maya, chickens," Alex said helpfully, however he was pointing to a duck. Maya nodded. "bla-gurh", she agreed.

"They're ducklings, sweetheart," I said, adding "but they do look like chickens!" to soften the blow.

Alex flashed me a 'not-to-be-outdone' look. We turned the page to a horse and a pig.

"Look, Maya, chickens!" Alex continued. I laughed and said, "Pig. Piggy. Oink oink." and "horse. Neeeiggghhh."

Maya, following her usual read-along babble, pointed to the pig and said "oo-ga" (or words to that effect.)

We turned the page. An owl and a tiger. "Chickens!" Alex exclaimed, pointing to one and then the other, "Chickens!"

He carried on this way for the rest of the book, until we came to the last animal, which was an actual... you guessed it... chicken. I paused, expecting him to come up with some other name for the chicken. He looked at me with a bemused smile."What's this one?" I asked.

Alex threw his hands up in the air. "Mum, how do you not know that's a CHICKEN!?"

He stroked Maya's head and told her soothingly, "Chicken, Maya, it's a chicken."

Monday, June 22, 2009

The 3 year old version of reincarnation

Lying in bed before he goes to sleep seems to be where Alex does most of his thinking about the Big Ideas Of Life.

Alex: "Mum, who's your mum?"

Me: "Nanna's my mum."

Alex: "Who's Dad's mum?"

Me: "Ouma is Dad's mum."

Alex: "Who's your grandma?"

Me: "Well I used to have a nanna but she died."

Alex (thinks for a while): "Does that mean some one squashed her?" (thinks some more) "was she really old?"

Me: "No one squashed her but yes, she was really old."

Alex: "What happens to people when they die?"

Me: "They go to meet God and we can't see them any more."

Alex (pleased with himself for coming up with this thought): "Do they get really old, then go up in a rocketship past the clouds to see God? Then, maybe they can be borned again when they get really little like a baby!"

Friday, June 19, 2009

Special delivery # 2

About an hour after the "How did Maya get out" conversation, Alex looks up at me and asks, "Mum, what happens if you don't like Maya any more and she's already out?"

He's clearly been thinking of this one for a while, as Maya is now 12 months old, and at the time of her birth (when Alex was just 2 years and 2 months old), the first thing he said when Chris brought him to the hospital to meet her was, "OK mummy, is the doctor going to put her back in your tummy?" After all the build-up, perhaps he was expecting more?

Special delivery

Alex: "Mum, what happened when I was born?"

Me:"You came out of my tummy."

Alex: "Mum, what happened when Maya was born?"

Me: "She came out of my tummy."

Alex: "Was it at the hospital?"

Me: "Yes."

Alex: "Did the doctor get her out?"

Me: "Yes."

Alex: "Why didn't you know how to get her out yourself? Was Daddy there? Did he help?" (I'm not joking, this all came straight from his brain)...

Me (thinking desperately for an appropriate analogy) : "Well I kind of knew, I just needed some help, like when you go to the toilet, or put trousers on, you know how to, but you need some help..."

Alex (thinks for a while):"...But Mum, it was really Daddy that took her out wasn't it?"

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Elevator etiquette

I stepped into a lift with Alex walking and Maya in the pram. An elderly lady in a wheelchair was wheeled in by a younger lady.

The older lady, who was sitting facing Maya, grabbed Maya's legs shook them about (none too gently but Maya didn't seem bothered), making coochie-coo noises. Alex put up his hand in protest, fingers spread wide, and issued a loud, "STOP! Babies are for stroking, gently, not for grabbing!"

Suitably chastised, the old lady dropped Maya's legs like a hot potato!

Road rage

I was pushing the kids along the footpath in the double pram when we had to slow down behind an elderly man who was struggling along in front of us.

"Mummy, he's not letting us go past!" came Alex's indignant shriek.

"It's ok, we will in a minute," I stage whispered. On getting nowhere with me, Alex turned his attention to the gentleman, and in an exact mimic of his dad's exasperated in-traffic exclamation, let loose with, "Oh COME ON, dude!"

Even without his hearing aid turned up the 'dude' had to have heard that. I'm just glad Chris keeps his language G-rated when encountering frustrating traffic scenarios!

Saturday, June 13, 2009


Just thought I'd add that I've had a fun evening remembering all the hilarious things Alex has done and said recently, and recounting them here. BUT, I won't be adding this many posts at once on a regular basis! Just one or two every few days. Depending on how hilarious he is, and how many of his witticisms I can recall.

Stealing's in the genes

Alex is a fussy eater. Cheese sandwiches and bananas is where it's at. Turns out, though, that he could devour an entire box of Jatz, no problem.

We were at a friend's place and Alex spied a box of aforementioned salty crackers, and for some reason, became convinced that there was only one box of Jatz in the world, and they were ours. Couldn't conceive of the notion that ours were exactly the same, but were at home, and this box, didn't belong to us. I had to prise them out of his determined little fingers amid howls of protest.

We were leaving when I spied a suspicious looking red and white box poking out of the bottom of Maya's pram. I looked at Alex, who looked suitably sheepish, before imploring, "I took them for YOU, mummy!"

Playground conversation

Alex met a kid at a shopping centre play area. The kid must have been around 4. They got to talking. I eavesdropped. The conversation went like this:

Alex: Are you my friend?
Kid: not yet.
Alex: What do you have at your home?
Kid: Toys, lots of toys.
Alex: Do you have Lightening McQueen?
Kid: yes.
Alex: The real toy or the movie?
Kid: both
Alex:Let's get out of here, this place is annoying.

At which point I had to block the exit lest they make a break for it in search of the kid's toy nirvana.

Change purse

Alex has decided that he is saving up to buy his very own, "huge Herbie, just like the Love Bug." He has this thing where he has to stop and hug every VW Beetle, or Mini Cooper, that we see parked on the street ("because they're really cute little guys"). So lately he started noticing me using my change purse to pay for some things, and my wallet (with notes in it) to pay for others. He got this idea that because more coins are used than notes, they must be worth more.

When I was given a new change purse for my birthday, the idea of him having his own change purse became one worth pursuing (for him). So we gave him one that we had lying around, and since then he's been surreptitiously pocketing any spare change he can get his hands on, as well as asking to intercept change I'm given at the checkout ("Can I have the change this time mum? For my Herbie?"). I haven't got the heart to tell him he's going to have to save a looooot of coins...

Teddies for sale

Tonight Alex couldn't go to sleep as he'd had a big nap during the day, so Daddy agreed to let him lie on the couch (but only if he was quiet) until he felt sleepy... well nothing ever goes exactly as agreed with Alex, he always has to negotiate/finagle a bit extra out of the deal.

First, he went back to his room to get three teddies ("just blue bear, Baxter and pink bear") to lie on the couch with. Then, holding them all in one arm, he showed me his empty arm and said plaintively, "What am I supposed to do with this arm when there are no bears there?" and, promising to be "so, so quiet" so as not to wake baby sister, he snuck back in to get two more bears.

Upon seeing Alex with an armful of stuffed toys, Daddy asked, "can I have one?" to which Alex replied, "sure. That'll be $15".

Cafe culture

One of the first funny things I remember Alex doing at about 18 months old was naming cafes "Cup of tea shops". He had seen us have our tea out of similar cups as are used in cafes, and logically, put two and two together, pointing out a "cup of tea shop" wherever he could.

The next (again, logical) step was to shuffle out of bed in the morning, pop his head up at the end of our bed and greet us with, "cup of tea?" Children are nothing if not mimics.

"Cup of tea?" soon progressed to staying in bed and shouting "Dadda! Toast!" as his behaviour turned from endearing to demanding (but still endearing, coming from a not-even-2-year-old!)

A Grand Tradition

Without wanting to toot my own horn, apparently I was known to say a few funny things as a child. Because there were no blogs back then and no one kept a journal, the oral tradition is all we've been left with. Subsequently, the two funny things I've said that have stuck are:

1. When I was about 20 months old, my (cloth) nappy was folded incorrectly and was making me uncomfortable, so I told my mother indignantly, "Mummy, you put knuckles in my nappy!"

2. When I was about 6 or 7, we were driving through the city and went past a brightly lit doorway with a big sign in pink lettering: PEEP SHOW. Apparently I begged my mum for ages to let us go in and have a look, and she was laughing too hard to think about how to explain to me that it really wasn't age-appropriate...

Gotta love plaigarism...

In a shameless act of plaigarism, I have decided to copy the funniest blog I've seen in a while - called my kid is funny -and, since that name is taken, I've called mine - wait for it - My kid is too funny (kind of a play on words with, My kid is funny too (or 2)... geddit?). The premise for the original blog was a mummy who decided to record her 4-year-old's gems for posterity, and for any one else who wanted to see how funny a 4-year-old can be. I personally don't think all four-year-olds are comic geniuses, but this one is. I was laughing at every post, and also nodding in recognition as some of my own little comic genius' one-liners came into my head.

So - if you think my kid might be funny too - enjoy. (Apparently the author of the original blog is a journalist, as I almost-was, so surely a little plaigarism won't come between us - besides, I've only stolen the concept, all the catchphrases have come straight out of Alex's mouth, I promise!)