I've done something very wrong. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but it was wrong, I tell you. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
I'm afraid I may have equipped my son with a terrifying weapon. Honestly, my three-year-old son now brandishes a weapon which is known to have devastating consequences for those who come face-to-face with it. And I mean literally face to face.
And while we're on the subject, how do toddlers do it? How do they convince us poor, trusting, devoted mothers to allow them to get away with such evil sorcery? Now, in the cold light of day, I can't believe I've had a part in this. I never imagined I'd be capable of such a thing.
But the truth is there to see, and it is clear that Little Tot could not have achieved such weaponry without the help of an adult peer. So I'm giving myself up now. There's no point in denying it. This is my confession.
If you're familiar with my blog posts and the capers of Big and Little Tot, then you may well be aware that they've both been guilty, in the past, of distracting me with their unfathomably long, thick eyelashes. For example, I might be on the cusp of giving them some ever-so-crucial, life-changing gem of wisdom about the merits of wearing a zipped-up coat in the winter, or not pouring orange juice onto cereal when, bam! There they are, curving away against the glorious brow, fluttering effortlessly into an eternal portal of cuteness, complemented by an endearing pout and I am rendered helpless. My well-intentioned life-changing gem of wisdom blown out of the water by a totally unfair physical attribute.
Their dad has them too, so you can imagine not much gets done around here.
Anyway, on this particular day, I was sitting at the table with my boys whilst they ate their favourite supper of milk, fruit and biscuits (okay, I have to force the fruit onto their plates but let's not go into that). Little Tot was looking at me with his huge, almond-shaped brown eyes and having a rare moment of quiet whilst chomping on his biscuit. We had a beautiful moment of stillness together, whilst looking deeply into each other's eyes and I thought I might melt onto the kitchen floor. Big Tot was being quiet too, which really is a rare phenomenon - the biscuits must have been good on this particular night.
So in this rare, melting, chomping-biscuits type moment, Little Tot started batting his eyes. Slowly, gently, purposefully. And, as you can imagine, this meant his eyelashes were batting too. I mean properly batting. Like he was flirting or something. No, actually, like he'd been flirting for many-a-year and was some kind of Master Practitioner at the craft.
I couldn't help myself. "Sweetheart, you do that to any woman and you will get anything you want. Like, straight away."
He stopped the batting for a moment and went back to that intense, pre-batting stare and I watched that information settle slowly into his toddler psyche. "Really Mummy? Anything I want?" Then, make no mistake about it, he started batting again. And somehow his lashes seemed even curvier, more voluptuous, his eyes even more innocent, more charming and hypnotic than before! What had I done?
Of course, Big Tot had to have his penny's worth. "Can I do it too Mummy? Look, watch me, I can do it better than him!" I watched Big Tot. Now don't get me wrong, he is a stunningly handsome boy. But when it comes to eyelash-batting, he's not going to win any trophies any time soon. It looked more like a bad bout of a misplaced contact lens, startlingly accompanied by a psycho-stare to alarm even the likes of Al Pacino in Scarface.
So what could I say? "Of course you can sweetheart, you both have beautiful eyelashes."
And since then, I've witnessed Little Tot unleash his weapon at the most opportune of moments. Right before his booster injection at the clinic in a bid to win himself multiple lollies from the pretty nurse. At the unsuspecting librarian to ensure he didn't get told off for the library book which was returned with a chewed-off corner. In the queue at Tesco when we needed to pay for a pint of milk and the old lady in front of us had an over-flowing trolley (actually, that was quite useful). And I'm now getting reports from his childminder and nursery teacher that he is wielding his weapon in a variety of educational / play settings. I ask again, what have I done?
|Advice for us all, I think|
Big Tot, on the other hand, is going around petrifying the town with his interpretation of the craft. I think I might encourage him to start wearing sunglasses when we go out. Like, whatever the weather.
So as well as a confession, this is my formal, preemptive apology to all of the otherwise strong, independent women out there who might sometime in the future, buckle under the pressure of Little Tot's eyelash batting. I am guilty.
To find out how Abi leads a happy, contented life with the Tots, take a look at the Cool Rule Book and a the whole range of Cool Rule products at thecoolrulecompany.co.uk
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