This post should really be called Why Most Toys are Pointless? But you know trying to keep up with this film and tv theme and all that (which is starting to get difficult by the way. Who’s great idea was that anyway?!)
No matter how many lovely toys you buy or borrow or are given. No matter how expensive or well made, why will a baby always go for the one thing you really don’t want them to have? Your iPhone (or quite frankly any device you, or anyone else, may be lucky enough to own), leads, photo frames, the washing basket, their brother’s dinner, the dishwasher and my personal favourite (and most dangerously feared of them all) the television!
You try and pass off an old mobile phone or broken iPod but alas those clever little monkeys know all your tricks and as soon as you turn your back to have a sneaky look on your Facebook page or place a bid on that amazingly priced Bugaboo footmuff on Ebay they are all over you like a rash!
And don’t give into buying that toy they will not let go of all the way through the toy shop when you are out looking for a birthday present because rest assured the minute, no the second, you get home they will have lost all interest and again start screaming because you won’t let them lick the end of your laptop charger! (Incidentally both my boys have done this now – the downside of not having a home office! And after LJ did it I tried it myself to see how bad it was – not a nice experience for the tongue – trust me as a Mama who didn’t learn her lesson keep them well out of reach!)
Then one day you think you have found it. The toy that will give you atleast 20 minutes of uninterrupted peace. THE ONE. Suddenly the hugely overpriced [train] is worth it’s weight in gold. You sit down with a hot coffee thinking finally I have the time to reply to that email and just as you open the laptop you hear it. That quiet but unmistakeable sound of a baby making its way over to you. You pretend your ears are playing tricks on you and proceed to open your inbox when you feel the tugging on your leg. You look down to see that beautiful face smiling up at you. You give them a quick cuddle and take them back to that new train – come on baby it’s made of real wood and painted in non-poisonous paint in colours that are going to turn you into a genius – but alas it’s losing its value by the second. You return to the computer and have barely even sat down before the tugging begins again. A move so stealth James Bond would be proud. Though at this point you fear a life of crime might be more up your child’s street.
You attempt to type one-handed until the whinging drives you insane enough to close your laptop. While looking for something else to amuse your baby, you start to think about who you could give the train away to as a present without them knowing it’s technically second hand, and just as you sit down with your baby they go quiet and start playing with the damn toy.
Once again they have won the battle but atleast you can drink your coffee while you play. You take a sip, it’s gone cold. You drink it anyway and pretend it’s a Frappe.
Sometimes being a Mother is like having a very small, but very loud personal trainer. It’s exhausting and sometimes a little bit tedious. I can barely reply to a text without listening to a soundtrack of the latest whinge and whines. The second I turn my back on the washing I have just hung to dry I find a trail of wet clothes in my wake. My house is full of toys but it is the neat piles of freshly washed clothes that Little M loves to play with so much. No sooner do I fill the dishwasher, spoons and plates are emptied and left on the floor.
So, how the hell did JK Rowling write those books with a baby in the nearby vicinity?? Maybe she really is magical.
Sweet Dreams –
Mama Atzi x
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