My army of tiny people has formed a coalition. They have tag teamed. They are working together to try to break me. The boy and the babog, they are clever. Not clever enough it seems, though. I’m on to them.
The big kid and I have been watching Drop Dead Fred on Netflix, a childhood favourite of mine and now hers too. Awesome old school movie. Anyways the other day Kayla said ‘do you know what Drop Dead Fred reminds me of… of Kadie and Frankie’. ‘Frankie does all these silly things and Kadie gets the blame’. Or Frankie will get Kadie to do something cause she’s a baby and quite literally doesn’t understand. And it’s true. My little twoligan is setting up the baby so he can get away with murder.
Last week Joe worked seven days straight, including late nights and Fathers Day. We saw him for a couple of minutes in the morning and that was about it. The joys of upgrading to a seven seater. Goodbye, beloved Astra I will miss you. So it was just me and the army of miniature monsters.
If one is thirsty, so is the other.
If one is hungry, so is the other – even if the other has just eaten a three-day-old rice cake the dog hasn’t sniffed out.
If one wipes their high chair of any existence of food, so does the other.
If one has a dirty bum, the other must beat it with a stinkier one.
If one has the ball, the other will whinge and cry and moan until I find a similar ball.
They communicate in grunts. The laugh at each others grunts. They follow each other. They climb the sofa’s together. The boy helps the babog out of the walker if she struggles to escape by herself then they run/crawl behind the sofa and laugh, laugh at me.
If one gets a biscuit the other must have a biscuit. And it can’t be a gluten, sugar no shit in it type of biscuit. It must be a custard cream (Aldi’s finest).
If I refuse to give them a biscuit they will march/crawl into the kitchen and the boy will get the babog to reach in the gap from the child lock and get the biscuits. Clever. In fairness the first time they did this I was so amazed and their skills I gave them one each. Like seriously she was nine months and she was determined, as was he.
God forbid either of them catch me sneaking a mint, a bar of chocolate or anything to sooth my pregnancy wants and needs. It’s just not worth the hassle.
They both wake each other up. At naptime, the boy wakes the babog, and in the mornings at HALF SIX, the babog wakes the boy. Kadie has changed everything around here on the sleep front. We use to all sleep comfortably until ten to nine, it was enough time to get dressed and eat breakfast in the car on the school run. Now I’ve time to make a Sunday roast if I wanted to. Clearly I don’t.
I’m convinced they have these hand signals too. Like in Aldi on Sunday, they were both sitting comfortably. One eating my car keys, the other eating the chain. All was grand then we got to the ice-cream aisle. And within seconds, one pointed and the other screamed. One doesn’t even eat ice-cream, she’s not allowed it but she was making sure some ice-cream went into that trolley no matter how hard she had to try. Weapons the two of them.
If I put washing on the rads or clothes horse, one will entice the other to pull them down. If the gate is open on the stairs they will both try to escape upstairs. I even caught the boy teaching the babog how to open her cloth nappy. If one gets the wipes, that’s two packs gone or my cloth wipes destroyed in dog hair. They empty the washing machine together. They rip open the post together. They even taunt the big kid.
If one cries so does the other. If one laughs so does the other. The baby bumped her head early this morning so the boy lumped his head off the wall just so he could have a sore head too.
I’ve me work cut out for me. Imagine next year, or Christmas even. Can you imagine what they’ll do to my tree? Ah, lads, they might break me. I may get a large playpen with a lid, like a jail even. Then again they would just plot their next move wouldn’t they…
Right now they are supposed to be napping. Except they are not. They are grunting at each other from one room to another. The babog turned ten months yesterday, and the boy is two. He can talk and I believe she understands everything he is saying. I really do. They have this laugh, she almost falls back and bumps her head when he says anything, she thinks he’s hilarious. In fairness to him, though, he is a little funny.
They are calling me. Calling me right now. MAMA MAMA MAMA and a MA MA MA MA MA. If I go Frankie will scream something like here she is, we won. And they will laugh, jump and cackle at their win. I’m a stubborn old cow, I’m gonna let them chat it out for now. This coffee is too good.
I CANNOT HEAR YOU’S. RASCALS.