It’s 8.30 in the morning and I’m stuck infront of the Television watching a funny silver man succumbing to every slapstick stunt in the book. Next to me is a toddler in a high chair with a breakfast fit for a tiny king. Before I can say boo, a heap of mauled pancakes magically appears on the floor in a helpless pool of banana and yoghurt. This crime is the work of my 13 month old who is now lobbing the remains of pancake into the said pool.
I’m sad. Not just because the whole sorry incident set me back another couple of quid but because I’m losing that little bundle of laughs to a first- degree manipulator. Breakfast hasn’t been the only thing murdered this week. The bin has played grave to a number of meals and RIP to my new foundation stick that got lobbed across the room.
It’s not just the throwing of things; it’s also the tantrums. I’ve always imagined that with the terrible twos that somehow suddenly the tantrums kick in on their second birthday. A bit like on Sims 2 when the characters magically ‘grow up’. I never thought that it’s something they build up to. How wrong I was. My 1 year old screams when she doesn’t her own way and even growled at my mum because she was taking too long to get her out of the highchair apparently.
It’s definitely the start of a new era for us. But with the arrival of all the tears and tantrums has come too a loving and loyal little girl. Her tantrums might be worthy of none other than Diana Ross but equally her smile lights up a room. I am exasperated but never been so happy.