It’s an unsettling thought when you realise you have no control over your children. It’s even more unsettling when you realise you NEVER did.
Noah wasn’t an adventurous baby. Sure, he ‘d climb on the sofa and fall head first off of it sometimes, but what little boy hasn’t done that?? Babu is the complete opposite. He climbs on EVERYTHING. The table, chairs, sofas, stairs, window sills – you name it, he’s been on it.
They say older siblings influence the younger. I’m not so sure. Noah’s recently started to do some very unsettling things. Like standing on the arm of the sofa and attempting to jump off. Or jumping up and down on top of his piano. Or running off when we take him out. I’ve found him stood on top of the toilet seat; he’s learnt how to climb into the bath by himself. Most of these things, his baby brother does.
Babu kicks, slaps, tantrums. Noah never did. Until now. Now it’s like they’re a relay team – when one has reached his limit, he passes the torch on and his brother picks up the challenge.
It’s hard not to lose it sometimes. And by ‘it’ I mean my mind. And by ‘it’ I mean anything the boys choose to hide. Because, lets face it, they now hide everything. The remote, food (I found a huge pile of sweetcorn stuffed down the side of the sofa cushion), clothes (mainly when I’m trying to dress Tobias) and today, for Noah, it was my house key.
Ash is currently away on a works trip, and so I only have my key. I’ve taken to keeping it off of my keyring so I can store it in my purse and save room in my bag. The trouble is, we leave it lying around sometimes, generally on the bottom step of the staircase so we can make a quick getaway if necessary. And Noah loves playing with it.
Up until now, I’ve never minded.
He puts it in the lock, unlocks the door and then locks it again. He takes the key out and then repeats the process. He’s never touched it unless one of us is with him. He always asked permission to play with it – generally when we’re on our way out.
Until today.
Today I couldn’t find my key – anywhere. And so I asked my handy little helper where it was (as he always knows.) He led me to the bottom of the staircase, which confused me as I knew it wasn’t there. And then, to my horror, he opened the letterbox and pointed outside at which point I heard a clatter of metal as my key fell out of the letterbox and on to the steps outside. *gasp, horror* Please let me have my back door key – PLEASE! Luckily, I did. *phew*
I raced around the back of the house, thanking God that I’d noticed then and not after the postman had been and retrieved the key. I was suitably angry with Noah but mainly with myself, for leaving the key in the possession of an almost three year old, in the first place.
This is a learning curve.
I think it’s time the key goes back on the keyring and hung up with the others, don’t you? Next time, who knows?? It could be him flying out the front door instead of the key! Scary thought …
See, even after almost three years, I’m still learning.
Bird From An Egg 