My Tiny Terror

Oh Eli, when did you go from being my little cherub to being my tiny tearaway??  You used to be SUCH a good boy, always smiling, always ready for cuddle.  And now?  Now you’d give your sister a run for her money.

Meg, bless her, I expect it from.  From the minute she was mobile she has performed dives and faints even Didier Drogba would be proud of.  She’s the only child I know who can cross an empty room and arrive with a bruise.  But you…Eli, I didn’t expect it from you!

Nobody told me that having a boy would be so different.  It’s almost deliberate.

You are in everything…all the time…every minute of every day.

You empty cupboards so you can sit in them, you chew wires, you throw toys at Meg and it’s actually a game to you, every meal time (without fail) you rub your hands from your chin all the way up your face into your hair and swish them around just to make sure the bits of food stick in the really hard to reach bits of hair, you fall headfirst into toy boxes and then headfirst out of them again, you get your feet stuck, your arms stuck, your head stuck in places you shouldn’t be trying to get to…in short my darling boy, you are a nightmare!!

Is it just a boy thing? 

Up until probably four or five months ago Meg couldn’t cope with having anything on her hands, if she was eating with her fingers we’d have to wipe them every 3 mins or so and then she’d carry on.  If her top gets wet from washing her hands (even just a spatter) we have to put a new one on.  I think Eli would probably fill the sink up then just dive headfirst into it.  After he’d drenched the bathroom floor of course.

I can’t turn my back for two minutes without hearing some high pitched shriek followed by the patter of Meg’s feet as she comes to tell me that Eli’s tried to climb behind the sofa again and got his head stuck or he’s somehow wedged underneath the easel…the list is endless! 

When he started to crawl we baby-proofed to the level we had done with Meg.  Then we realised that wasn’t enough and we baby-proofed again.  But that still doesn’t appear to have stopped him getting into bother – we need to turn this place into Fort Knox!

Is there some kind of help manual for mummies of little boys?  I don’t think I’m mentally prepared for the walking years…everything about E makes me think he’s going to be one of those mud diving, worm eating, creepy crawly catching chase your sister round the room types of toddler…and I am so not ready for that!!


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