Moody

I’ve just had a bit of a row with my daughter.

She snuck onto my computer while I was unloading things from the car. This wouldn’t necessarily be a huge problem - the worst she usually does if my attention is diverted is print off 50 copies of Hello Kitty colouring pages. This time, though, I’d stupidly walked away without logging out of my Amazon account, which meant that my girl and her trigger finger were able to discover the Buy Now With One Click button.

Put it this way: I wasn’t actually planning to order a Kindle version of My Secret Garden.

“WHY did you buy this without asking? You haven't even GOT a Kindle!” I yelled, searching frantically to see if the £1.98 digibook was just an apéritif. Images of £200 Dr Beats headphones started to flash before my eyes.

Luckily, the damage to my bank balance remained minimal. She had ordered several DVDs and books, but luckily these were ones that she had meticulously entered on her Santa list, so I was planning to get them anyway. Not that I told her this. I said I had just cancelled all her purchases, and she would have to wait until Santa came to see if she would get what she wanted.

We talked further. I wasn’t at my most patient. 

“I’m sorry, Mummy, I didn’t know I was buying things,” she said. 

“Well, I think you did, because you pressed the Buy Now button, and I know that you can read those words perfectly well.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not very happy, because you haven’t listened to me very well today.”

“I HAVE!”

“And you’ve answered back a lot.”

“I HAVEN’T!”

She stomped off. The next thing I heard was her reading out aloud, very POINTEDLY, from the library book she’d brought home from school. It was a chapter called ‘I Get So Moody’ from a book called ‘Me And My Feelings’. The story involves a girl telling her friend how her mum has shouted at her ‘for nothing’.  It actually then goes on to relate how the girl admits to her pal that she'd been really moody, had lost control, and didn't blame her mum for shouting. Did my daughter read this bit out? Did she my arse. She just made sure the 'SHOUTED at for NOTHING' was HEAVILY EMPHASISED, and shot me a few meaningful glances over the top of her glasses. 

She's just gone to bed. With a big, happy smile on her face. I'm now grinning, too. Somehow, somewhere along the line, this little saga seems to have ended up with me being firmly put in my place. Me and my bloody feelings.

Video is Arctic Monkeys - Mardy Bum

Blanket

I don’t mention my son an awful lot on this blog, because this is my daughter’s space. My space to make sense of our life and her condition. And when I do mention the little bugger I tend to give him a bad press. (Yes, I realise, referring to him as a little bugger may be perpetuating this).

He’s nearly four. He’s a stubborn, silly, bundle of energy. He’s very cute, and he knows it.

Today, I suddenly came down with a bit of a bug. I had chills, and they were multiplying, as John Travolta might say. I felt hot one minute, and shivery the next. I had a thumping headache and a sore throat. So I headed to bed to wrap myself in my duvet and feel sorry for myself.

My boy, playing downstairs with my husband, took a while to realise I was gone. When he did, he padded up the stairs looking for me, and climbed up onto the bed.

“Why are you in bed, Mummy?”

“I don’t feel well. I’m really cold, and I’ve come to bed to get warm and feel better.”

He tipped his head on one side. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said.

After a few clonks and crashes (presumably toys and books falling on the floor in his bedroom), he clambered up on the bed with me.

“Here you are, Mummy. It’s my red blanket. So you won’t be cold.”

This was a very kind and sweet thing to do, and I felt a surge of pride at his thoughtfulness.

“You can have Teddy, too, Mummy.”  

This was almost too much. I seemed to have something in my eye.

Then a mischievous look came over his face and he picked up his beloved teddy bear and placed it close to my face.

“He just pooed on your head.”

Video is Arctic Monkeys - Teddy Picker