Waiting for Maman

llamaIf you are a parent, and you have not yet seen any of the Convos With My 2 Year Old YouTube clips, I urge you watch them immediately after you have read my blog post.

The absurdity and futility of many of the interactions I have with my children ensure I often feel like a character in Waiting for Godot.

Exhibit A
Captain Chatterbox (standing outside the bathroom): Mum!
Me: I am in your room.
Captain Chatterbox (still standing outside the bathroom): Mum!!
Me: I am in your room.
Captain Chatterbox (still standing outside the bathroom): MUM!!
Me (now standing behind him): I am not in the bathroom. I was in your room.
Captain Chatterbox: Oh. Where’s Dad?
Me: He has gone to work. You just said goodbye to him.
Captain Chatterbox: Oh.

Such exchanges play a key role in my love of wine.

Exhibit B
Captain Chatterbox: She won’t share with me!
Me: Did you share with her?
Captain Chatterbox: No.
Me: Why not?
Captain Chatterbox: I don’t want to share.

There are times when I am quite certain that if I have to endure another interminable monologue regarding Angry Birds, Lego, The Lego Movie or Transformers, my brain will start leaking from my ears:

Exhibit C
Captain Chatterbox: Mum, do you know Bomb from Angry Birds?
Me: No. I don’t know anything about Angry Birds. I don’t really want to.
Captain Chatterbox: Yes, but do you know Bomb from Angry Birds explodes?
Me: No. I did not.
Captain Chatterbox: I wonder why?
Me: It possibly has something to do with him being angry. I know how he feels.
Captain Chatterbox: And do you know Chuck from Angry Birds?
Me (pause): No.

Other random statements just induce bewilderment:

Exhibit D
Captain Chatterbox: Oh why is this tunnel so long? Why can’t it just be as long as a tyrannosaurus rex?

Yet others perfectly illustrate the emotional roller coaster that is parenting:

Exhibit E
Me: Darling, let’s get your shoes on so we cam go to the park.
Mademoiselle Headstrong (shrieking in horror as though I had just threatened to boil her in oil): NO! NO! NO!
Me: But you need to have your shoes on.
Mademoiselle Headstrong: NO!
Me: Then we can’t go to the park.
Mademoiselle Headstrong: I WANT TO GO TO THE PARK!
Me: Then put your shoes on.
Mademoiselle Headstrong (grasping my shoulders and looking deeply into my eyes): I love you, Mum. You’re my best friend.

A quick text survey of some mummy friends yielded the following gems:

1 – One friend’s son has decided that hairy caterpillars do NOT exist, which he reminds her of daily.

2 – Another friend’s repeated exchange with her son:
Friend: Do you need to go to the toilet?
Son: NO, mummy, stop ASKING me.
Son (two minutes later): Mummy, mummy, mummy, I am BUSTING. Please find a toilet!

3 – Another friend’s repeated exchange with her son:
Son: Mummy doing?
Friend: Pushing you in the stroller.
Son: Me doing?
Friend: Sitting in the stroller.
Son: Mummy doing …

Captain Chatterbox, not unusually, has the final word:

“Mum and Dad, I KNOW I can be frustrating, but sometimes I just really need to talk.”

We hadn’t noticed …

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6 responses to “Waiting for Maman

  1. Oh the joys of it all. Must say, being an Aunty and a Godmother sits just fine with me. Too funny Kate.

  2. Here’s my very first conversation every day with my two-year-old:
    Son: Where’s Daddy?
    Me: Where do you think he is?
    Son: At work.
    Me: Yes.

    EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

  3. Pingback: It’s All Greek To Them | marrickville maman·

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