I Am A Geeaaynius!

Today shall be henceforth known as the day Felix exhibited the first signs of his latent artistic brilliance. Today, when indulging in one of our usual 'Mummy draw things for me as I command or risk certain death' sessions, he pointed at a spot on a blank piece of paper, said 'Pider', took up a black crayon, created his not-a-bunch-of-random-squiggles-at-all masterpiece, set down the crayon and said with clear finality, 'Pider'. This is incontrovertible proof that my son is a child prodigy and should probably be worshipped as a deity of some sort (maybe the God of Making Unreasonable Demands). Anyone who disagrees is patently a Nazi sympathiser whose favourite hobby is yak molestation while wearing a diving bell and singing 'My Old Man's a Dustman'.


(For those who don't get the title reference, please see Blackadder II, Episode IV)

Mummy, Watch Your Naughty Step!

This evening, at dinner, Felix decided to throw some of his pasta on the floor. I told him that we'd pick it up once we'd finished eating but he kept pointing at it and whining. Eventually, I said, 'Ok, if it's really bothering you then I'll pick it up and take it into the kitchen'. Upon my return, I was greeted with, 'No! It NOT funny. Going to count ten. Naughty'.

I genuinely have no idea where that came from but I'm impressed with Rob for hiding behind Felix in order to cry with laughter.

Heads Up

As I've been out all day and my laptop is not behaving itself, I will simply leave you with the following picture:

Imagine... a twenty two-month old spending most of the day...

Slamming his head into hard objects

Falling off things and banging his head

Walking into furniture and bumping his head

Smacking his face with seemingly harmless toys

Being unable to walk in a straight line for long without falling over and, yet again, injuring his cranium in some way.

But most of all, imagine....

Tears, screaming, 'Muuuuuummy!', climbing up me and hanging around my neck like a baby gibbon.

Poor chap. He has done some nice things too today. Honest.

Felexicon

Ever wanted to know how to go about understanding Felish? Well, now you can! Here is a Beginner’s Guide to commonly used words:

Doddor - Can refer specifically to his bosom companion, Norman the dog, or to any dog in general

Topper - Plane or helicopter

Peatop - Teapot

Bicydidor - Bicycle or anything that looks a bit like one

Bike car - motorbike

Pider - Spider

Doffee - coffee

Owee - yellow

Bussydah - Butterfly

Tea! - You are cordially invited to partake of afternoon (or morning, or evening, rather depends on what mood he’s in) tea with Felix. You will partake. Or else.

Further lessons in Felish will follow when he decides make further notable additions to his vocabulary.

Tickling is a Capital Offence and Heedless Bunnies Shall be Binned

I was teasing Felix by making a little toy man of his jump onto different parts of his body and tickle him. He was giggling his head of until, ‘Man tickle Felix’s tummy!’ at which point he grabbed the poor soul, stuffed him feet first into his gob and proceeded to chew his legs with a vicious, ‘Num num num!’ Harsh.

‘Sleeping Bunnies’ is a song which involves lying on the floor, pretending to be asleep and then springing up and hopping at the end, and Felix was really getting into it this afternoon. After a few rounds of this, I was getting knackered (participation is mandatory). So, I thought I’d cheat a bit by kneeling and just putting my head down low. As if this was going to fool him. ‘Night, NIGHT, bunny!’, he shouted, pointing at the floor. And so I found myself, once again, lying prone on hardwood flooring, persevering with this fascist’s paradise of a song to which some one gave a misleadingly innocuous title. I was dutifully ready for another round but I noticed that Master Lang had arisen and was doing something else. ‘Felix, you’re supposed to be sleeping! You’re a rubbish bunny’ I exclaimed. ‘Yes. Bin’, he conceded with a nod.

Bribery and Corruption

Well, I did it. I committed one of the seven deadly sins of parenting. Felix is going through a testing phase at the moment of happily walking for five minutes before standing stock-still, throwing up his arms and demanding, ‘Up!’. Now, my primary method of dealing with this is to give him a choice: ‘Felix want pushchair? Felix want to walk?’ and I repeat this slowly, face-to-face until he says ‘Yes’ to one of the choices. This usually works. This morning, it didn’t. He just kept refusing to budge and wouldn’t engage with me, so I eventually picked him up to put him in the pushchair but he clung on to me like a limpet. With my back and my patience about to give out entirely, I had a brainwave: ‘If you’re good and walk, we can go to the toy shop and you can choose a car’. Oh bugger. Not disastrous in economic terms, as I had actually planned on doing just this, but a strategic EPIC FAIL. This desperate action cannot be allowed to set a precedent. However, I do find it hard to feel too dispirited as I watch him playing a very happily involved game of, ‘Where’s nee naa car?’ with his new purchase. Go on, feel free to judge...and while you’re doing that, I’ll be over here pulling my ‘care face’.

Mmmmm, Finest 'Eau de Kennet'

We had a little outing to the Oracle today and I thought we’d take the scenic route along the ‘Reading Riviera’ (pah hah!) because Felix loves looking down into the canal for ducks. He was very excited about walking over the bridge himself, especially as the sides are made of thin wires, so he can see very clearly. Suddenly, he stopped, did a little bouncy dance, pointed at the river and shouted, ‘Juice, juice, JUICE!’. I wonder how long it will take him to see through our calling-water-’juice’-because-he-might-stop-drinking-it-otherwise subterfuge.