Men & Motors

Boy #1 is staying with his paternal grandmother for a few days so Boy #2 is taking advantage of the lull to make himself heard and to hone his conversational skills. Since staying with my parents on a farm a couple of weeks ago, any kind of heavy machinery elicits comment (what is it about men and motors?), and he now shouts 'Wow!' whenever we pass anything vaguely similar to farmyard equipment. (Frog in the Field - thank your lucky stars you have daughters). In urban ex-pat-ville this includes tractors, cranes, dumper trucks, rubbish trucks, and - most importantly - the rather more common-place flatbed truck. Since in this area home improvement is mandatory when you move, and flatbeds are builder's vehicle of choice whethere they are delivering a load of scaffolding or a single bolt, a simple walk to the shops turns into the toddler equivalent of a visit to Stringfellows...


August 21st, 2006

As a sign of how far we’ve come in the ‘portable family’ stakes, we went out for brunch this morning with friends. How very civilised…The only hiccup was when Boy #1 – plainly in need of the potty, hopping around like a rabbit and clutching himself in a Rod Stewart styley – refused to use either the portable potty or the loo in the disabled toilet. I had visions of vast quantities of wee engulfing the floor of the restaurant and being shunned by polite society for the rest of my life, so did what any self-respecting mother does in that situation. I sent in his father. Who of course got a result in less than 2 minutes. The phrase ‘a word from me and he does as he likes…’ keeps echoing through my head.

But... No pooh at all today. Am hoping for a result tomorrow morning like the one Husband got on Sunday but somehow I doubt it will be that easy. Spoke to a friend at the weekend who said that during her 'potty-training hell' (her words, not mine), she ended up frantically stalking her son around the house as he disappeared to furtively produce poohs – in places other than the potty, of course. Our flat isn’t that big but really don’t fancy games of hunt the pooh… unless we’re talking about the stuffed bear variety, obviously.