Midi Minx was very lucky to make it through yesterday unscathed.
I’m not sure what set her off, but she spent the entire day being the very definition of recalcitrant. We had our standard battle over breakfast, fight to get her to drink anything, war over getting dressed, and she glowered at me all morning because I wouldn’t let her play with her glitter (well, finding glitter in the contents of Mini’s nappy, as well as upon wiping, is evidence that the bloody stuff is over-used in this household. As well as damn alarming).
Anyway, while I was busy changing Mini’s (sparkling) nappy, Midi quietly hauled out her big sister’s Peg Farm World. Some game with about half a billion tiny beads. Which is why none of the minxes have been allowed to play with it, yet. In the 3 minutes it took me to wrestle Mini to the changing table, hold her in a head-lock and swipe her clean (the child detests nappy changes and scurries away as fast as those little legs will take her at the mere mention of, “What’s that smell?”), Midi had ripped open all the bags of beads and had them overflowing out a big bowl onto the table. I came in, saw my worst choking nightmare, roared, “Stop that right now, young lady!”, to which she retaliated by grabbing 2 meaty handfuls of beads and deliberately emptying them slowly on the floor. The smirk on her face told me this was no accident. I should tell you, too, that earlier in the morning she wet herself in her chair at the table over breakfast literally the instant I hit ‘go’ on the washing machine; she has been potty trained successfully during the day for quite some time.
Half an hour later, when I’d climbed back down off the roof, Midi’s indignant howls had mostly subsided and the last of the beads that wouldn’t fit in the bags were (mostly) swept up, me and Maxi sat and had a mother-daughter chat. She wanted to talk about her favourite pants.
Maxi Minx loves her pants that have the days of the week printed on them. She can’t read, but recognises that ‘Wednesday’ can’t possibly be the word for Friday (I tried to hoodwink her when my washing obviously hadn’t caught up in time to wear the right pants on the right day, and failed miserably). She gabbled for a bit about recognising some letters, then asked why the days were called what they were. Example, where did Wednesday come from? I explained that some days were named after Viking gods, like Wodin and Thor. So she had a bit of a giggle about the names and what they were the gods of. Obviously she’d heard of Vikings before, because she declared seriously,
“Viking are normal people now, because they had kids, so they had to stop all their killing and scaring people”.
Um. Yes. OK.
“I’m wearing my Viking pants, so I’m not scared about anything!” she added proudly. “Nothing makes me scream”. Oh right, except the spider this morning, the bee at the window 2 minutes ago, your sisters all bloomin’ day and the cat… Still, at least she can hear properly: Midi misheard me, and now thinks that Saturday is named after Santa.