2 years, 5 months, 25 days old
This week has contained far fewer tantrums than last week. Apparently the idea that kids love routine and don’t like change isn’t just an old wive’s tale, and we’ve had a much happier Arwen to play with. And play we have. She’s still getting to grips with hide and seek though, demanding to play it at Nana’s house last week, then when I shouted “Ready or not!” she shouted back “No, don’t look for us!” I’m not sure how to make that work then. She still loves pretending to cook on her oven at Nana’s too, telling me the other day as she busied herself at it that “I doing something cool for you to look.” She’s become a big fan of pretend play now. We were sitting quite happily on Friday when she bent down, picked up something invisible off the floor, touched it to me and said “I just put some sellotape on you. Make you feel better.” I hadn’t known I didn’t feel well until then, but I certainly felt better afterwards. At the moment, she constantly wants to “Do hello”, in which you need to grab an object similar to whatever she has in her hand (teddy, toy car, pen, fork, whatever) and they have to say hello to each other. Then both objects have to go for a walk, inevitably to the park, where they will play on the swings and go fast until whatever object Arwen’s holding is loudly and violently sick. Quite an imagination.
But the playing isn’t always as fun as it sounds. She got very annoyed when I refused to play the game she wanted to play on Wednesday. I wasn’t being awkward though – I just really have no idea what “I want to do electric. For my holiday” means. And we had a bit of a stand off on Friday when we were running late on our way to the library and Arwen started banging one of her toys really noisily in the back of the car. Already fraught, (I hate being late) I asked her in what was probably quite an exasperated tone “Could you stop banging it please?” To which I got the perfectly reasonable response “I not doing any harm.” And I couldn’t think of a suitable comeback, so I just had to put up with the fact that a two year old had beaten me.
There have been a few angry moments this week. I didn’t know how to respond on Monday when she stared at me with fury in her eyes and shouted “I just did a trump!” Did she want congratulating? Commiserating? I just stayed quiet. That seemed to do the trick. Not that Arwen always knows the right thing to say, either. She wasn’t eating much of her tea on Friday, so I asked her to eat some more, and received an angry “I can’t!” in response. When I, quite reasonably, asked her why, Arwen thought for a second and told me “I don’t want to.” So at least she hasn’t reached the lying through her teeth stage yet. Though Daddy perhaps wishes she wasn’t always so brutally honest. Last week he asked her whether she liked his beard. He wasn’t quite prepared for a negative answer, nor the response to the further query of why she didn’t like it: “It gross.”
And speaking of gross, I was changing a particularly awful nappy today, when Arwen sniffed, looked horrified and said “Somebody farted.” Nope. That’d be the poo.