Amy Condon is a mum to 3 kids, who are all under 3! Yes, you heard us right. Each week she tells us all about the ups and downs of bringing up 3 children so close in age in her mummy blog. This week Amy talks about T mimicking Mummy's sayings...
‘Right, I'm going to cut off your finger.'
Who knew digit amputation was a cure-all? It's the new leech, apparently.
I honestly don't know where she came up with it all. She's hardly ever been to the doctor's, but I guess the trip a few weeks ago for her booster jabs stuck in her mind. Not that they charged. Or chopped anything off. Perhaps she's going to be an entrepreneur. Or an assassin. Either way, the kid's got imagination. And cheek.
T's other new preoccupation, other than her rather brutal approach to medicine, is backchat. Only she doesn't throw tantrums (like G, who is a little pressure cooker waiting to go off at the moment) or cry (like M, who's taken to turning on the fake tears when things don't go her way). No, T has had a more subtle idea. She is turning into me.
‘Do you need a pee pee before bed?' I asked her the other night.
‘No, if I need one, I'll call for you in the night,' she replied casually.
‘No, honey,' I said. ‘If you need one in the night, there's a potty by your bed to go by yourself. Or maybe you should try now, so you don't need to do that.'
‘I'll just get you up,' she frowned.
‘No, Mummy doesn't want to get up in the night,' I pointed out. ‘You can use the potty, or maybe you should try now.'
‘That's what I said,' she huffed, getting herself onto the toilet. ‘Why do you not listen to me?'
Complaining about not being listened to is something I do every day. A hundred times every day. She's quoting me back at me. How am I meant to combat that? She did it again today.
‘Mummy, why have you not come to my shop?' she demanded, stomping through from an arrangement of chairs she'd set up in the dining room and covered in toys and building blocks. ‘Why did you ignore me?'
I hate being ignored.
I felt simultaneously guilty, amused and annoyed. I hadn't ignored her. She hadn't asked me to come. She was just in a bad mood because no one had stumbled upon her ‘shop'. But her hurt little face always slays me. I know she's playing me but it's hard to resist when she throws my words back at me. Being ignored drives me insane. I hate the idea of her feeling like that. And she knows it.
How is it that, at the age of not even 3-and-a-half, she has learned to outwit me?
Honestly, what on earth goes on inside that little head? If she's not thinking up unfathomable games, she's dreaming up ways to make me feel guilty. If any adult found a way to face life the way the average 3-year-old does, they'd run the world. The rules are simple. Do whatever it takes to get what you want. Tears, tantrums, guilt trips... They're all fair game. But I think only small children can get away with it. Adults aren't nearly cute enough.
I instinctively hid my hands when I walked in today to discover the doctor's surgery was up and running once more. T pounced.
‘Do you have an ouchie, Mummy?' she demanded.
‘Erm, yes,' I replied, thinking fast. ‘I have an, uh, sore nose.' No way my hands would be involved there...
‘OK,' T smiled She once again checked my age and house number (nothing if not thorough), grabbed her spoon (no, I don't know why) and approached... I tucked my hands further behind my back... But T simply stroked her spoon gently against my nose, leant in to give it a kiss, and dismissed me with a toy boat and sticker for being so good.
Oh, she can say whatever she wants. She and her sisters are just so adorable, one kiss and they'll always win me back. Turns out I can go back to imagining T's future career as a nurse or a doctor. She's gentle, caring, kind.... Just make sure you listen when she's talking, OK?'
Do your kids mimic your sayings? Tell us about your experiences in our comments section below.
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