Mary, Mary, quite contrary
Nearly 18 months and very keen to assert her independence, no is Katy’s current favourite word. She alternately goes on food strike or eats 3 yoghurts at a time, and has started playing the ‘let’s embarrass mum by going completely stiff and refusing to get in the buggy’ game. I thought that wasn’t supposed to start until the ‘terrible twos’! Mind you, these parenting manuals are a load of contradictory rubbish: they tell you toddlers have no memory and will have to be told over and over again not to do certain things. Katy approaches the forbidden cat litter trays saying ‘no, no’ to herself.
She’s also caused some confusion at nursery by repeating a different kind of ‘no, no’ as she quotes the little pig refusing entry to the big bad wolf. My excitement at discovering she can now pay attention to a longer story has since waned as the tale of the Three Little Pigs has become a compulsory bedtime (and morning, and afternoon) story. At least she gets two different versions of it, one from each parent. An unexpected benefit of my being ill with pneumonia and unable to pick her up (hence the hiatus in blogging) is that Owen spent 2 weeks taking fantastically good care of both of us, and she now settles better at bedtime with her Dad than with me. We now take turns to put her to bed, and she’s sleeping better – and longer – than she has done for a good while.
There are of course plenty of charming habits to make up for the contrariness. She’ll put on my hat and stride purposefully down the hall calling ‘bye bye’, or say ‘Knock, knock!’ Who’s there? ‘Katy!’.
She’s also caused some confusion at nursery by repeating a different kind of ‘no, no’ as she quotes the little pig refusing entry to the big bad wolf. My excitement at discovering she can now pay attention to a longer story has since waned as the tale of the Three Little Pigs has become a compulsory bedtime (and morning, and afternoon) story. At least she gets two different versions of it, one from each parent. An unexpected benefit of my being ill with pneumonia and unable to pick her up (hence the hiatus in blogging) is that Owen spent 2 weeks taking fantastically good care of both of us, and she now settles better at bedtime with her Dad than with me. We now take turns to put her to bed, and she’s sleeping better – and longer – than she has done for a good while.
There are of course plenty of charming habits to make up for the contrariness. She’ll put on my hat and stride purposefully down the hall calling ‘bye bye’, or say ‘Knock, knock!’ Who’s there? ‘Katy!’.
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