I've had a super weekend, thanks, since you ask. My gentleman admirer took me back to his hometown to visit the family, including his 18-month-old niece. So I pretty much spent two days talking to the toddler, hitting things, and shouting "PIGGY!" at roughly 30-second intervals, with only a vague awareness that there were other people in the vicinity. My true peer-group: the under-twos.
A thing that is awesome: she's learning to talk (see above re: "PIGGY!"), which means that if you go to pick her up and she's not in the mood, she can say "no". I always find it a bit weird how children get passed around like puppies with no choice in the matter, how it's assumed you can ruffle their hair and hold their hands without asking, so it's brilliant to be able to reinforce her sense of bodily inviolability by the delightfully simple means of asking her permission and respecting her answer.
A thing that is weird: "Welll, she'll never be able to play cricket, will she?" "What a pretty dress you have on!" Barbie paddling pool, Hello Kitty bib, two baby dolls before she's even out of nappies herself; pink rabbit, pink jumper, pink bowl, pink, pink, pink... "Don't throw her around like that, you're so rough with her!" (She was shrieking with delight and shouting 'MORE!') In response to her answering "no" to "would you like a cuddle?": "Well, aren't you a bossy little madam?" PINK, is what I am saying. I plan on being Awesome Feminist Auntie, making sure I mix in a lot of "clever", "strong", "brave" compliments alongside all the "pretty", "good", "princess" ones; I'm already looking forward to reading her some Swallows and Amazons in years to come, and semi-seriously planning a picture book about Emily Wilding Davison.
Corrupting the next generation: a joy that comes with age.
I would so buy a picture book about Emily (yeah, we're on first-name terms). Ahem, for my future nieces/nephews, obviously.
ReplyDeleteLast time I was allowed to interact with a toddler, I convinced him that firefighters fight dinosaurs, and that my eyebrow piercing was a communicator to get in touch with firefighters whenever a dinosaur was on the rampage. I fully expect, in about 12-15 years, to receive an angry phonecall from his parents telling me all about his obsession with firefighters and facial piercings... hehehe.
Awesome.
ReplyDeleteThat's one of the many reasons I know I'm not ready to have kids: the temptation to convince them that eating cheese makes you a mighty warrior, that spiders are people who didn't eat enough cheese when they were little, and that thongs are a satanic conspiracy would be overwhelming.