Firstly, apologies for being away for a few days, The Nephew and Elder had been downloading stuff for the studio and my dongle allowance died a death. My phone net locks me out of Twitter and Blogger, so hence my disappearance. Apparently I missed a big row again in the blogsphere (thankfully its not me this time, although apparently it looks like someone I've had bullying experience of was involved) and just want to say hi to Emily at Babyrambles (let me know if you need a chat with someone who has been there).
Right, back to the blog!
Sorry, but if you are eating, or feeling in anyway ill at the moment, it might be best to bookmark this post for a later date.....
Right for those of you who have strong stomachs I will carry on.
As you know, Mini is, slowly being potty trained. Very slowly, as she has whole weeks where the mere mention of the P word makes her run around the house having a massive tantrum. I've bought another new guide to potty training, and am still referring to the NCT one as well, and both say not to force the issue or the child will completely rebel.
The new one also says that until recently, Mini will only have known 2 seconds before that she was "going" but that at nearly 3, she now knows at least 21 seconds beforehand.
Its been obvious the last week odd that she's taking more of an interest in toilet habits, as she has been putting her hand in her nappy. Which I have to say makes me want to hurl, I am not good on baby/child products like dribble, sick or stuff from the nappy of either type, and make Elder laugh when I run upstairs to change my clothes and on occasions when its been really bad, to take a shower. Yep, hands up if you're squeamish!
My theory and excuse is that I breastfed Mini even when she had teeth and her fave pastime inbetween sucking was to perforate my nipples til they could have reasonably been removed and used as a colander, so I reserve the right to hate poop and puke.
Well, yesterday, Mini was lying on the couch after her breakfast, wrapped in her favourite blanket. Littler had been taken up for his "I woke up at 5am, and in the night at least 3 times too so now I'm miserable" nap, and I was sitting catching up with some typing (my office has now become to corner of the front room in front of the TV where the gerbils used to live as Elder and The Nephew have stolen the conservatory to turn into the Maidenhead branch of Ministry, and are busy making tunes to play on The Nephews radio show on Saturday).
Mini saw Elder walk through on a coffee run, and called him over. She's been quite good recently, behaviour wise, and is learning to be very helpful, like taking her empty plate out to the kitchen, and generous, like giving you sweeties from her packet without going mental.
So, with her hand out but closed, she called her Dad to give him something.
He held out his hand, asking what it was she had.
To which she placed what he at first sight thought was a smartie she had saved from her packet the day before (we often find Jaffa Cakes and sweeties behind things were she's hidden them for later, but she mostly forgets she has hidden them so well, and they're found a week after when we're looking for a toy under or behind furniture).
He even said Thanks sweetie to her.
Until she told him it was a Baby Poo.
He proceeded to repeat euggghhhhh over and over.
And me, well, I wet myself laughing to the point I couldn't speak and am still able to crease up just thinking about his face, her grin and the hilarity of it all!
Potty training, you got to laugh!