Pets

Like a lot of amateur bloggers, I sort of lost momentum, and real life, in the shape of a big bunch of work and travelling, intervened. Now the itch is back. I’m staying home until August, and it’s been good to hang out with the family for a change instead of a lot of twitchy, harassed journalists. T and I had a lovely time travelling abroad together in June – I went for work, and he took an opportunity to sunbathe fairly guilt-free for a week.

The kids coped pretty well at home with D while we were gone. We Skyped them a bit, and R got a bit upset sometimes when we had to sign off (“no no no no no no…” he says heartbreakingly every time I say I have to go now), but little E seems to take it in her stride. The other day is a case in point. D and the kids drove me to the local train station so I could come up to London for 24 hours. I leaned through the car doors to give each a kiss goodbye and R, spotting the overnight bag, immediately twigged I was off for some time. “No no no no no no…” he pleaded, interspersed with little shouts of frustration, nearly making me cry. E, on the other hand, bossily instructed me to close the door and waved cheerfully. “Bye bye, mummy!” she said happily. Later, D asked her if she knew where her parents were. “In London,” she said. “What’s daddy doing there?” asked D. “Working,” said E. “What’s mummy doing?” “Shopping.” Little tyke’s got my number.

R turned three at the end of June, but we didn’t have a birthday party because we had a big naming day party planned for the middle of July. So for his birthday, I made a chocolate cake (roughly equal proportions of cake and frosting, just the way he likes it). He’s totally sussed the blowing out the candle trick. He’s also worked out how to tear wrapping paper off presents, and looks avariciously at every new, brightly wrapped parcel. T’s parents got him an electronic drum kit, which E, a little Karen Carpenter in the making (hopefully without the eating disorder) commandeered straight away. Naturally, he liked the remote-control car I got him the most.

R is going through a mildly aggressive phase at the moment, with me mostly. He’s really cut down on hitting or kicking his sister, and hardly ever thrashes at adults, but he bites me a lot, either when he’s excited and wants to play, or when he’s cross at me manhandling him into his chair for meal times, or trying to put his nappie on, or for just making him do anything he doesn’t want to do. I try to put him in the naughty box or make him have a timeout every time he bites me, as advised by FAE, but sometimes there just isn’t time.

Also, I’m starting to wonder if he’s getting too big for manhandling. If he doesn’t want to do something – like eat – perhaps we should just let him decide. In fact, we’ve had some successes in letting him set his own agenda a bit. During one breakfast he refused to eat and kept insisting on being allowed to get down from the table. Finally we gave in, and 10 minutes later he decided that, as breakfast was waffles that day which he loves, he did want breakfast after all.

He’s also getting better with animals. We went to some posh people’s house so T could play in a cricket match, and there were two spiky little terriers there. R immediately waded in and started giggling maniacally while trying to kick them. I think he thinks they’re big cuddly toys and he likes to see them move, so he kicks them, not getting that that hurts them because of his problems with empathy and theory of mind. Finally one had enough and jumped at him, barking madly, just when my back was turned for a second, no doubt after some kind of provocation from R. I think it may have nipped him, but we couldn’t see any bite afterwards. R screamed hysterically. T and I tried our best to console him (which took a while) but we were both secretly hoping he’d learned a lesson to be a bit more careful and wary of dogs, especially ones he doesn’t know. Strangely enough, ever since then he’s been more cautious around them, but thankfully still takes just as much delight in watching their antics.

We had to put our beloved cat Kylie down about a week ago. I ushered the children in to say goodbye to her before we took her for her last ride to the vets. Even then, R tried to bash her to make her move, which broke my heart in all sorts of ways. E, by way of contrast, was very nice to her and said, “Bye bye Kylie!” in a very sweet, solemn voice. I’m not sure if we’ll get another pet for a while. I think it’s best to let R grow up a little more first. Everyone seems to think we should get a dog and that that would be the best choice for R. The thought of walking the thing every day fills me with dread, because I’m fundamentally lazy and sedentary. Wouldn’t a gerbil do? Is there a pet you can get that’s doesn’t need walkies but is very robust and forgiving? Maybe a robot gerbil. Now there’s a business opportunity…