Tag: 3 year old

So many questions: Life with an almost 4 year old.

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So, it’s been 19 days. 19 days since IT happened. 19 days since my child made a big discovery. Yep. It has been 19 days since the Little Mister discovered the word…

WHY.

And I am EXHAUSTED!

I have become his own personal ‘google’. Or probably not google. I’m kind of like a broken down Bing. Remember Bing? Is that still a thing? Well, I’m basically a crappier version of that.

I am being asked so many questions that I don’t fully know the answers to, let alone know how to explain them to an almost 4 year old in a way that he might understand!

In recent days I have been asked…

  • What makes the rain come out of the clouds?
  • How does music get onto the radio?
  • Why does the moon follow us at night?
  • Why can we only see a part of the moon?
  • Why does Santa give toys from the shops?
  • Do cows have gutters? (he meant udders but it took me a while to figure it out)
  • How does helium make the balloons go up?

Then once I’ve given my best (but usually terribly articulated) answer, he’ll follow up with “WHY?”

WHY INDEED.

I also get the usual requests for snacks, demands for help with various things he wants to do around the house, questions about why things are where they are or why he’s not allowed to do something. Questions about what it is I am doing every second of the day.

 

I decided to do a little experiment. I decided that I would record every question I was asked. Just for a day. From the moment he got up until the moment I had time to sit down and write this blog post.

In 3.5 hours I have been asked a total of 110 113 114 115 questions.

ONE HUNDRED AND TEN THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN* QUESTIONS.

And I am also sure I missed a few. Not even kidding. I only recorded the genuine questions and even left out some repeat questions (i.e. the moments when he just kept slamming me with the same question until I answered – this kid gives no time to think y’all).

I did originally transcribe each question, but in the 10 minutes after the Little Mister got out of bed, I literally could not write fast enough (and show him enough attention) so I resorted to a tally system. I then just wrote down the most interesting ones:

  • Where did you live when you were a baby? Why? (he should write blogging prompts haha)
  • Did Daddy go on his (recent charity) bike ride in his car? (I answered that if he’d gone in his car it would have become a car ride and you can only do bike rides on a bike). When he got his answer, he asked – can you sing me a song about that?
  • Can you get new clothes, because your shirts fall down? (someone isn’t a fan of my slouchy off the shoulder shirts worn around the house)
  • Can you buy me more (kitchen) stools for me for my birthday?
  • Why don’t we have blueberries? WHY DON’T WE? (um because every time I buy them you say you don’t like them…?)

Today, as I tried to take a moment to gaze off into the distance, I was asked, “What are you thinking about?”

When I answered that I was just thinking about how I’d love to get a new couch for the family room (yes – I was in fantasy land), he seemed satisfied…for about half a minute.

He then spent at least ten minutes trying to guess what I was thinking about at any given moment.

“Are you thinking about ALL the furniture?”

“Are you thinking about the doors? How about the doors? Do you think about them and how you can go inside or you can go outside?”

“Why? Why aren’t you thinking about the doors?”

Um…

And the craziest thing is when I ask the Little Mister “why” (on any topic), he looks all frustrated (without any sense of irony – obviously) and says, “Ugh. BECAUSE!”

Like that’s it. His whole answer.

Now I feel like I get why mums say that classic (and infuriating) line, “BECAUSE I SAID SO!”

I feel you, Because I Said So mums. I feel you.

In the last couple of weeks I have been unable to stay awake past 8:30pm (it’s the brain drain haha) and I keep waking at 3:30am for no other apparent reason than my brain realises this is the only quiet time I will be able to appreciate.

While I am so so so stoked that the Little Mister has an inquisitive mind and asks some really cool questions, am I a bad person for also kind of looking forward to the day when he can just google that shit?

Have you fielded any great/embarrassing/confusing/complicated questions lately? Anyone want to come and answer the Little Mister’s questions for a day? Or all week? Want to ask ME a question (may as well haha)?

 

*the total kept climbing WHILE I was writing this post. Seriously. SEND HELP.

Toddler talk.

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I have to be really honest and admit that BC (Before Child) I was really excited for the day I might have a toddler of my own, who just says the most ridiculous stuff. I dreamed of a child that would be my favourite comedy show, day in and day out. I imagined a life where I would be all, “HA HA HA. I CAN’T BELIEVE HE/SHE JUST SAID THAT. HILARIOUS!” every five seconds.

Of course, I probably had quite the rose tinted visions of my future (that didn’t include tantrums over the most weird things or toilet training or me being interrupted EVERY GOD DAMN TIME I SPEAK), but generally speaking, the Little Mister has not really disappointed me with his chatty ways. Even some of the infuriating stuff can seem pretty funny in hindsight.

Some days, it’s all about the “What’s this?” (the pre-cursor to “why” I’m told). It’s constant. And it’s always stuff that he knows.

“YES, LITTLE MISTER. THAT IS A COUCH. THAT IS A DOG. THIS IS A BOOK. THAT IS YOUR NOSE. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME??”

Of course, I don’t really say that. I put on my ‘patient mummy’ voice and say, “Hmm. What do you think it is?”

Aargh.

“I don’t like…” is often uttered in regards to all of the Little Mister’s favourite foods for absolutely no reason at all, with no predictability whatsoever. Usually at the worst time. I think what he means is that he doesn’t feel like that thing right in that moment, but it’s still really irritating! Why you gots to be so difficult, child?

“Don’t know.” Said with the tone of a belligerent teen. An answer for every question he’s too lazy to answer properly. I asked Mr Unprepared where he was getting this annoying phrase from and he answered… *wait for it*…

“Don’t know.”

*eye rolls* He says his reply was a joke, but I’m not buying it, just quietly!

“Bleeeeergh.” This covers everything from foods he doesn’t like, to the idea of getting a kiss on the cheek. I am waiting for the day he says it to a stranger for a really inappropriate reason. In public. 

The Little Mister also comes out with some very random things. He never fails to take me by surprise. These things are usually wildly out of any kind of understandable context and completely irrelevant to whatever is being done or talked about in that moment.

“I have bones. You have bones too, Mummy. And Daddy has bones. Everybody in the world has bones!” He has a point.

I’m doing yoga (pronounced ‘oga’),” as he does a very convincing downward dog, making me wonder if he is actually my child.

“Mummy, you don’t have a willy.” I want to give him the correct terminology for my lady parts (and I have subtly done so) but I cringe at the idea of him yelling about them to everybody in the middle of the supermarket. We all know that moment is coming. It’s just a matter of ‘when’.

And at other times, “Daddy! YOU HAVE A WILLY! AND I HAVE A WILLY!” in a tone quite similar to Oprah giving away cars. Like everybody wins because they have willies.

“I want a sandwich cut in two halves, but NO BREAD.” 
Um OK. I asked him, “How can you have a sandwich with no bread?”
He shrugged and chuckled, “Don’t know!”

Of course.

Sporadically asking for porridge and then not eating it. Every few weeks, the Little Mister will suddenly, unpredictably, ask for porridge for breakfast. He’ll be all excited. He will even retrieve the oats from the cupboard for me (or Mr Unprepared) with the joy of a child on Christmas day. The porridge will be made, then served. He will then show absolutely no interest in it whatsoever. Just walks away without a word. Like it never happened. So we wait another few weeks for the next surprise porridge demand.

When the Little Mister was about 18 months old, he was adorable. WAS. I remember clearly, heading over to Tasmania to celebrate the life of my grandfather who we had just lost to dementia. The Little Mister couldn’t speak very much back then (although he gave it his best efforts anyway), but he would just burst into the sweetest little baby voiced “Row row row…” and the rest of the family would sing Row Row Row Your Boat along with him. It brought him so much joy to initiate a family singalong and it was even more touching when we all realised it had been my grandfather’s favourite song. It’s like he knew. I mean, AWWWWWW.

Now?

“SING THE ROW BOAT SONG, DADDY!”

“Row row row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.”

“HAHAHA – BUTT! BUTT! YOU SAID BUTT, DADDY!”

Cue hysterical giggles.

Sigh.

He also makes up songs about poo. The only lyric is the word ‘poo’.

Yesterday (at around 6pm – other parents know what that means), I was trying to explain something or other to Mr Unprepared. Every time I opened my mouth, the Little Mister would run around and yell at the top of his lungs, “EMERGENCY!! EMERGENCY!!” 

I’d try again (one word in)…“EMERGENCY!!! EMERGENCY!!!” *maniacal toddler laughter*

Another attempt, “EMERGENCY EMERGENCY EMERGENCY!!!”

And one more time because I’m an idiot, “EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY!! EMERGENCY!! HA HA HA HA HA!”

Before I could open my mouth a fourth time, the Little Mister looked at me and said in an amused tone, bordering on patronising, “Oh, Mummy. You’re trying to say words.”

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And there’s so much more toddler gold where that came from.

What’s the darndest thing your kid has have ever said? Did you ever embarrass your parents? (seriously I love these stories)