It says the alligator is in an anorak but he’s not. He’s in a rain coat. That’s cheeky. It’s cheeky to call it an anorak. It is yellow, Mr Alligator is green. I love him. He’s so cute. He can be my baby. He looks funny because he has a hat on. Alligators don’t wear hats. I like C for Chloe the Crab best. Out of all my favourites, the crab is my best friend. Crab, Chloe, Cookie, Cat. Mummy spell it. Spell things Mummy! I want to spell all of these words right now. Look at the crab. I’m that same crab. Look! It’s me Mummy. I’m that crab. Spell crab… Can we get a pet alligator? I could put hats on him.
My daughter was pretty happy with her first book review yesterday and is pursuing her reviewer career further with Willbee the Bumblebee.
Willbee has a bare* bum.** He’s got no cloths on. It’s funny because I can see his bum. Look at his bum. He’s nudie. He can’t go home because he’s nudie… that’s sad. But he can go home because his butterfly will help him. Because he has a bare bum. Let’s go see if we can see a bee’s bum. Rushes off to put shoes on so I assume the review is over.
* I’m not entirely convinced she isn’t saying bear.
**Three year olds don’t understand spoilers.
My daughter has noticed me writing book reviews and so has decided that she too would like to do some reviewing. So I am dutifully typing up what she has to say on the matter. The first book she has chosen is Daddy’s Cheeky Monkey by Andrew Daddo and Emma Quay, published by ABC Books.
I like this book. It is about me and Daddy. Daddy calls me a monkey, actually I’m a cheeky monkey. Daddy has three cheeky monkeys. I like this picture Mummy, it looks like the baby has a tail and monkeys have tails. It’s not a tail, it is a strap for the chair but it looks like a tail. Look Mummy, Mummy look, it looks like a tail. Look at the tail right now! And it has poo in it. POO! Mucky Moo!
… Disolves into giggles so I assume the review is over…
Please see attached what people really look like first thing in the morning.
Take careful note of the inability to find the energy to close ones mouth as a result of being woken up at 3am for the last three nights in a row by the little Princess who will not go back to sleep until 5am followed by the twins waking up at 6am. Also the hair that took a whole night of tossing and turning to create not a mere few hours of brushing and glossing like the magazines would have us think. So in short, that “first thing in the morning look” takes all night to create not hours… That doesn’t seem like a valid argument to be making… My point is… I’m tired and I would like a nap? Waaaaaa.
I just want to go cry in a corner, in the dark, until I spew.
So it turns out that the terrible two’s are merely a warm up act to threenagehood. The threenage years are when your cute little button alternates between being the sweetest little monkey in the world and being a monkey with full blown rabies. Possibly some sort of super mutated strand that even Science Fiction writers haven’t imagined yet. Anything and everything is a potential crisis situation.
“I want chocolate.”
“We don’t have any chocolate.”
“Give me chocolate right now!”
“Honestly Angel Cake we don’t have any.”
High pitched squealing where you are worried the neighbours will call DOCS followed by hysterical crying until they throw up followed by you regretting your no chocolate in the house stance. And then it’s breakfast time…
Prior to this transition I’d never heard of the term “Threenager” and to be honest I hope it passes soon. Most of the time she’s the sweetest little angel on Earth but these extreme terrorist attacks are exhausting. After the threenager stage is over it better be smooth sailing until the teenage years. If there is some kind of “Fournado” I will seriously have to consider becoming a high functioning alcoholic.
Ugh. As always any fellow Mad Cows are welcome to join my group if because you’re a little crae crae and you have a fanwah then it’s the place for you. https://facebook.com/groups/563402577109194