Technobabblebaby

Braeden's obsession with remote controls continues unabated.

You think you've outsmarted him by hiding the remote (or the cordless phone) but the first chance he gets, ZOOOM! We usually say "Ta to Dad/Mum" and sometimes he relinquishes it, but usually you're in for a fight.

The best technique is to offer him something in trade, like a toy he's forgotten he owns (the kid has so many toys, it's frightening).

But this can rebound.

On Boxing Day, Braeden went trotting up to his Dad and solemnly handed him his sippy cup. Wayne had to put down one of the two remotes he was holding, and Braeden swooped on the discarded item, and bearing it aloft like a triumphant orang-utan, he trotted off gleefully, out of the lounge, out past me in the office, and heading for the hallway. There is a better than average chance he was planning on "hiding" it in the toilet, btw.

It took his Dad a second to realise he'd been carefully outmanouvered!

The tanties continue, but we pretend to ignore them and they don't seem as bad these days. Yesterday though we both got a bit of a shock when Braeden flung himself backwards (as is his special trick), and landed smack on my most abused of big toes. Kerrrrrunch!

I think bubs thought he'd whacked his head a little too hard, although he only got a shock because my poor digit broke his fall. That's not all that felt broken, LOL.

I haven't been headbutted much lately, but it's still on the cards and you get used to carting him around with your head held much like Quasimodo, fully expecting a Liverpool kiss any time soon. I never seem able to predict his latest trick, unfortunately. You could be on a business call and suddenly experience the delight of eight sharp little teeth chomping down on any given part of you; boob, shoulder, inner arm, KNEE (I ask you!) or thigh. Yet to be bitten on the ankle, however, so I guess the term 'ankle biter' doesn't quite apply.

It's all down to Braeden wanting what Braeden wants, when he wants it, and if he doesn't want it then lookout to you! Can't think for the life of me who he reminds me of...

He's presently cutting molars (one each side) so it's been a *fun* week. I hear eye teeth are worse, oh goodie.

I'm still washing 8-10 bibs a day, such is the the state of powerdribble. I see other parents out with nattily dressed tots, and glance at my bibbed grublet in amused resignation. I can dress him up for a few seconds, then he finds something to get creative with (pen, gingernut, my full cup of cold coffee), and whammo. Good thing I'm not overly fussed on appearances, because if I were one of those fussy mamas, I'd have taken to drink a long time ago.

Ah well.. it's gone midnight & I've just re-tucked Mr Nearly 15 Months after a restless patch, so time to nudge husband over to his side of the bed and climb in beside him.

Btw, yes, we are definitely trying for #2. Well.. at least I am. Wayne has worn himself to a frazzle the last few weeks working on a rush job, and came home tonight sunburned, dehydrated & with an egg on his knee (lovely case of water on the knee, but WILL he see a doctor? Don't be bloody ridiculous!)

Then again... sleep is a luxury so I'd better settle for that, and be graceful about it ;-)