It would appear that the delectable miss E has been learning a lot at daycare.  Surprisingly it’s not biting or hitting that has made the most impression on my youngest. And nor is the rampant possessiveness of defending one’s turf in a group of fellow ankle biters, although she is rather fond of telling me “no naughty”, “Ebie’s turn” and “mine!” an awful lot.  Instead my littlest lady seems quite enamoured of minding her p’s and q’s.

“Drinkee pliz Mummy“, “More ‘tanas pliz Mummy” are common phrases you will hear in our house nowadays, ocassionally drowned out by A counting to one hundred. Again. And again.

All too often with a wicked glint in her sparkling hazel eyes miss E will then answer with a pre-emptive “sure!” before I’ve even had the chance to respond either to her request or with appropriately enthusiastic praise to her determined clever clogs big sister.

Once she has had her fill she will proudly declare “Fishy-ed (finished). Ta mummy!”, with A proudly telling her “You used your manners so well E. Good girl!” and I yet again melt into a puddle of hissy mummy gooeyness.

Most delightful of all is that these manners have extended to our breastfeeds.  The way in which miss E will finish one side before politely requesting “More boobie pliz” is hilariously funny and endearing.  The way in which she proudly announces “Fishy-ed. Sleepy Mummy. Night night” is beyond adorable. And when she announces “Owsh. Sorry Mummy” if she pops off a bit too viciously or has a little slip up thanks to the upper canines that have popped through her gums in the past week my heart almost explodes at the display of burgeoning empathy.

Whoever came up with that dopey shite aphorism “If they’re old enough to ask for it they shouldn’t be getting it” totally missed the point.

Or their kids weren’t half as breathtakingly delightful as mine.

More pliz.

Anyway.

Before I rush off to finish packing far too much useless crap and not enough of what is actually needed I thought I would share some random bits and pieces with you all:

1. Flashing my boobs at a concert isn’t what it used to be.

As part of our pre Christmas celebrations the hissychicks ventured into the big smoke for our annual pilgrimage to see the Wiggles.  Yet again the skivvied four put on a fabulous show, and yet again watching how our two very individual children reacted to the performance was a source of much amusement to mr hissychick and I.

A naturally sat through the concert quietly absorbing it all, except to occasionally tell me that it was all a bit loud.

E went right off, jumping up and down on my lap in a frenetic dance to each and every song before having a spectacular meltdown (note to self: do not do the 1pm nap time show again), loudly demanding for boobie and staying put until she passed out in sheer exhaustion.

So yet again I found myself at a Wiggles concert, child popping off the boob resulting in a very unsubtle display of nipple just as I swear the film cameras were panning over our section of the audience. 

Wonder if they’ll edit it out?

2. If the kid has me this sussed just shy of four then what the hell am I in for by the time she’s a (gulp) teenager?

A is currently going through an annoying obsession with using toilet words, her favouites being “poo poo” and “ka ka”. Nice.  After a long session of potty mouth en route to today’s concert I thought I would do something about it.  Here’s how it went:

Me (the plan being to wear the word out): A, that’s it. I am now timing you on my watch and I want you to say “Poo poo” over and over until I say stop.

A (giggling): Poo poo poo poo poo poo poo poo…..

Me (saying nothing, looking at watch):………

A (questioning look in her eyes): Poo poo poo poo poo poo...(slowing down)…poo poo poo….

Me (avoiding eye contact): Keep going...

A (giggling nervously): Poo poo poo…Mummy,are you tricking me? (Slight pause) I’ve just realised you are tricking me.

Me (choking back laughter): …….

Mr hissychick (no help at all): Hahahahahahahahaha!

On the way home A decided to use “kaka”.

Me (sighing): OK A, you know what to do….start saying it…

A (scowling): I don’t want to, I’m sick of it.

Me (exasperated): Good. Now keep on saying it.

A(huffing): Ka ka ka...(pause, you can hear the neurons firing)..but Mummy, I’m not saying kaka, I’m saying car.

Me: …..

Mr hissychick (helping as usual, snorting with laughter): She’s got you there.

It’s all his fault.

3. I am such a hypocrite

Many moons ago I posted an anti Facebook rant.

So it probably is of no surprise to you to find out that I have now signed up. A friend of mine finally wore me down, pointing out that it is a rather lazy good way for people to keep in touch. 

In a moment of weakness, I caved. And I’m already sucked in because I’m already wondering about my nigel not enough friends status. How positively juvenile.

Once I stop sulking I’m going to give it a go. I have switched on most of the highest privacy settings, switched off the email alerts -how freaking annoying are they- and I most certainly have not included my blog addy in my profile, retaining an air of mystery and all that* .  To think that I don’t actually have to email anyone anymore, Facebook
will alert them every single time I post the inanest of drivel. Wee hee.

I am so pathetic.

Well that about wraps it up for now folks.  If I don’t check in between now and Chrissy day I just wanted to wish you all a very merry one.

*but if you want to be my friend just email me…no stop that hissy!  It must be the zits transporting me back to the school yard…

I will catch up with you all upon my return. Stay tuned for exciting posts about just how lopsided my boobs have become now that E has weaned from loser lefty during the cutting of her bottom eye teeth, whether A really did use the word “undead” in a complex conversation with her hapless father and whether a Boonie mo proudly sported by your husband as Movember draws to a close does in fact spice up your life between the sheets.

Then again, Maybe not.

* By we I mean that mr hissychick is doing all the hard manual  prep work and furniture removal tomorrow while I distract the kids with a visit to see Santa in the city.  Fair division of labour, no?

Miss E has discovered the joy of clearly enunciating the b word, and is thrilled when I happily oblige. It’s not often nowadays, usually just at nap and bed time, if she wakes in the night and sometimes to start the day.  As an added bonus she will usually finish up her comfort sucking when I ask her to pop off.

If only she was so compliant at other times and in other matters. It is not a good look having to drop your bags and chase your toddler before she escapes through the door of the local Target, your as yet unpaid for goods in her hot little hands.   The excitement of noticing and exclaiming “Door-uh!” followed by “Teddy!” as a certain little pixie charged out of the exit and towards a nearby window filled with said cuddly creatures was a source of much amusement to all nearby shoppers and shop employees. Not so much me, who was rather embarrassed at the thought of being mother to the world’s youngest shoplifter.

Do you think I can reform her ways by warning her that there’d be no boobie juice in Juvie?