Mini Minx woke me up this morning by coughing wetly in my face. Wonderful. She leaned on my nose to reach over and grab a tissue, then politely coughed into it. “I got my cough off!” she proudly told me when I blinked stupidly at her. It’s a bit of a theme with her: she talks about turning the dark on and off (rather than the light). Talking of which, roll on Spring when I won’t need to turn on a light to see well enough to eat “lansh” (= lunch in Mini-ese)
And talking of the things kids say, I’ve not written any Midi-isms for a while, but only through lack of time; they’re still there. Example, a few Thursdays ago we stopped at McDonalds to have a cheeky burger dinner after gymnastics. On the drive home in the dark, Midi asked if we’d see any “meteorisers”. It’s a shame I didn’t indulge her by driving home the shore-route – that was the night that the aurora was very strong around 1830hrs, just as we were driving home. Doh…
This morning we had a Treat Breakfast of croissants and jam. I think you can figure out just how terrible my pronunciation is: Midi calls them “fossils” (oh, don’t look at me like that! Say it aloud! See?). And I definitely think it’s me, rather than her, or her hearing. She saw the ENT professor 2 days ago, following up her grommets operation. For the first time *ever* she had a hearing test and “it could barely be better”, said both the technician and the doc. Yippee!!!! My baby can hear! Actually, that’s been blindingly obvious – she still wears her ear defenders to bed, and Maxi’s snoring isn’t that loud!
Or Mini’s, for that matter… in a recent upheaval, the minxes decided that they’d like to all sleep in the same room. So now they do: we swapped a chest of drawers with Mini’s bed. The noise is no worse, and nocturnal wanderings haven’t changed, but the mess… oh my God, the mess of clutter on the bedroom floor each night has reached shovel-drastically-needed dimensions! And now Mini’s old bedroom (which they’ve grandly taken to calling The Dressing Room) looks like a jam-bomb exploded in a clothing factory: there are clothes piled on and against and around every single surface. I just can’t tidy as fast as 4 other people are un-tidying. One day, when they’re all at work or school, I’m going to get a big roll of bin-bags and unleash the Mentalist Minimalist Declutterer in me.
Last bit of news: yesterday Mini wailed, “I need a poo! Where my potty?” and scuttled off to find it. All by herself. Without me prompting her. The instant she sat down, she produced something that made her gasp and exclaim, “Why it so stinky? It horrible, Mummy!” I’m just glad I have a bad cold… A measure of how proud I was of our little girl: I gave her 2 ink stamps on her hands (instead of stickers, which fall off), texted The Boss, and updated my Facebook status. ‘Delighted’ and ‘relieved’ barely cut it as descriptors. Today we had the same performance, but in the toilet! She even insisted on sitting on the large toilet seat rather than the tiny trainer seat (“I need a big seat, Mummy, cos I gotta big bum. Jus’ like you!”). I’m daring to hope that the end of the daily grind of hosing down Mini, degunging her clothes and frantic cleaning of fragged surfaces may soon be over… quick, sell your shares in Domestos! They’ll plummet when the company find out I’m no longer their prime customer.