What Have I Done?

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.

With smiles,

Abi
xxx



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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Ruling the New Roost

If a man's house is his castle, then what is it to a toddler? A play area? An open-all-hours restaurant? A place in which to emotionally manipulate grown-ups and terrorise siblings without the side-effect of causing public disarray?

So what happens then, when you take that house away and replace it with another one? Well, we've not even had three weeks in our new house and I can tell you that toddlers have absolutely no problem finding their feet in a new domain. In fact, they can quite possibly do it quicker than any other person in the household, regardless of age, gender or life experience on this planet.

Moving home is a breeze for toddlers

Little Tot informed me quite some time ago that he would be taking charge of things as soon as we moved. "In new house I have big room." He warned me over a slice of toast one morning. "I have it on my own. I have all of house. On my own."

I should have known there and then. But instead I smiled at him and, admittedly, was unwittingly drawn in by the curl of his eyelash, the curve of his rosy cheek (why do they have to make toddlers so damn cute?), "Really sweetheart? And what are you going to do in the new house. Play with all your lovely toys?"

"No." And then he actually tutted. "I boss. Boss of you and new house."

I didn't have a chance to reflect on the eeriness of this statement because Big Tot, who was also chomping toast, flung himself into a typically passionate rant against this notion. Then more toast was required and that was that. Little did I know that I was being warned of what was to come.

Now that I'm here and slowly unpacking boxes and drilling holes in walls (or patiently waiting for the hubby to drill holes in walls), I can appreciate Little Tot's ownership methods. And I'm certain, that if you spent just one hour in our home (totally ignoring his cuteness and inability to wield a biro correctly) you would be convinced that it was Little Tot's name on the rental agreement.

Let's take a look at his methods:

• You cannot climb up the stairs before him. You must wait at the bottom until he has reached the top, at which point he will shout, "Ok, you can come up now!" 

• You cannot climb down the stairs before him. You must wait at the top until he has reached the bottom, at which point he will shout, "Ok, you can come down now!" (NB: Our last house was a bungalow)

 

• At mealtimes, everybody except Little Tot must stand around the table and wait until he decides where he will sit, and only then can everybody else choose their place. Placemats are a whole separate saga.

 

• Upon leaving the house to go somewhere fun (like Ikea or, erm, well . . .  Ikea) we must all go through the front gate which is held open and then closed immediately again by Little Tot. This is not done in a gracious, gentlemanly way. It is more like herding sheep. Naughty sheep.

 

• You must seem pleased when random children keep appearing in the house expecting to be fed, entertained etc. This is because Little Tot has thought it appropriate to yell over the front gate "Hey, neighbours! Do you want to come to my new house? Come on in!"

 

• You must understand that lights can and will be switched on regardless of it being broad daylight outside because, of course, the zombies might come.

How does he even know what a zombie is?

Now that, my friends, is how to rule the roost.

It is a good thing, however, that I am the queen of rule-making and I have the trusty Cool Rule Book to fall back on. Honestly, when I first created it all those years ago, I had no idea how handy it would be during a house move. Result.

Although there may not be any specific rules detailing the repelling of zombies, there is plenty in there about caring for others, sensible mealtimes and listening to Mummy and Daddy. Consistency is key with toddlers but when you're moving house, it's hard to keep anything consistent because change is all around. The Cool Rule Book has really helped me to keep all those important elements of day-to-day life the same for Little Tot. And Big Tot too, because although he's six now, he still loves his Cool Rules.

You've gotta love it

So all that's left to do is give the hubby a Cool Rule Book with a nice big section on the drilling of holes in walls.

Go well,

Abi


To see the Cool Rule Book yourself, and the rest of Abi's fantastic range of positive parenting products, visit thecoolrulecompany.co.uk

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