What’s on my mind today is my toddler, and how demanding he is. He is two years old, and a very loveable little chap. He wants me to be his best friend in all things. I must submit to being led by the finger to get him a drink, something to eat, sit on the sofa with him, read a book, watch him climb up and down steps repeatedly, play little plastic soldiers with him… The list is endless.
This is all very charming, but sometimes I plan other things. Today I thought we’d have a home day as we’ve been out a lot. I thought I’d have lots of time to complete some “admin”. You know, birthday thank you letters from April, order a replacement borrowed book he tore, etc.
But it’s such a struggle to get any or all these tasks done! After a few minutes he’s at my knee with a complaint that his little men are stuck in his car and I must help him get them out. A quick open the door and shake the car is all it takes, and the men fall out. (The men are tiny plastic wheels from another car, or sometimes tiny blobs of rock-hard playdough, or maybe coins.) It only takes a moment to help him, but it’s constant interruptions to my flow. Then I’m left wondering at the end of the day: What did I do all day? Where’s the day gone?
Now he is asleep, and I have actually managed to put him down on the sofa without him fully waking up. But in a little while I have to take my daughter out and collect my son from school.
I actually love having a toddler. They’re at such a wonderful age, full of learning new things and enthusiasm. Going Nee-Nar as an ambulance passes seems such an amazing achievement. He is learning new words every day, and managing to make himself understood with his own special brand of rugrat speak. I know that all too soon he won’t need me so much. It all passes so quickly.