Happy Fuck It Fri-ayyy

'Mummmmy .... Daddddy!'
'Commme On....'
'It's Fri - ayyy'
'Commme On....'
'Commme On Now!'
'Fri - ayyy  Fri - ayyy'

This is what we woke up to at 5.30am last Friday morning. If it had not been "Fri-ayyy", I would have said a completely different F word under my breath. I would have rolled over and told my husband to 'ignore him' and prayed to every God I'd ever heard of, "please just this once make him go back to sleep".

But because it was Friday, I laughed.
I laughed and my husband laughed and got up and bought him in for a cuddle. Because who can resist an enthusiastic, life affirming toddler on a Friday morning? Not us that's for sure. The cuddle didn't really work out (does it ever?), the constant wriggling and sticky feet jabs to the ribs soon put pay to that idea and by 6am we we were all watching Peter Rabbit and sipping warmed milk and tea.

'Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit...! Something something... Run for your life!' As he bounces up and down at the foot of the bed.

When Your Toddler Goes Feral

My son, ninety five percent of the time is a really loving and empathetic child. He loves a cuddle, a big snotty kiss goodbye, a snuggle up on the sofa. He's kind to his animals, he'll kiss you better when you stumble over his train track, he'll share his biscuits when asked. He is by nature, a kind soul.
However, every now and then - every 5% of the time my son goes fucking feral. Maybe he's just too good, reaches his limit and needs to go bat shit crazy to release his inner demons, I don't know.
Case in point, last week when upon Nursery pick up my husband was summoned to sign an Incident Form, because our darling boy had held his best friend in a headlock and wouldn't let go.
Not only did he hold this kid down like Hulk Hogan high on Meth, he then refused to apologise and kept shuffling out of the 'quiet corner' where he been put to consider what he'd done.

Goodbye Little Nursery

Today is Finley’s last day at little nursery because next week he’s moving up to the Toddler Unit.
And to be honest this really sucks because the toddler unit is across the other side of the village, so to him it’s like a whole new nursery in a whole new place. It also means that he won’t be with my sister anymore and I have to fully trust the care of my baby to people I don’t really know.
I’m finding this transition difficult and Finley is finding it fucking horrendous. I know this because he throws a shit fit every time he steps foot in the place.

Well he doesn’t actually set foot there at all because he’s already sprung half way up my leg like a spider monkey, sobbing “no,no, ‘uddle Mummy, ‘uddle Mummy”.