I've had a nice day today really... it started well with a lie in until 8h, when Mr M tried to tug me out of bed and only minor incidents of sibling headlocks, wrestling-to-the-ground, bribery and cajoling, but hey, that's just another day in the life.
I was just cooking dinner (butternut squash and parmesan risotto with grilled chicken - moderate success), when Her Ladyship came bounding in, grinning and declaring "Mummy, come and see what I've done!". You know it's trouble when you realise that the previous 10 minutes were strangely silent. As she turns around to lead me to whatever wonderful thing she wanted to show me, I notice the wax crayon in her hand...
... and there it is - a wonderful rendition in brown all over my lovely white hallway wall.
Fortunately, it happened to be right next to where I sit her for Time Out, so remembering that I should stay calm (thanks Supernanny), I told her to sit down, that she wouldn't have any television for the rest of the evening, that I was exceptionally disappointed in her, that she should only ever draw on paper (and is the wall paper, dear? No?! No, it isn't - so DON'T DRAW ON IT!), and that she should stay put while I quickly save the chicken from burning. Maybe not quite that calmly and maybe not quite that concisely. Must try harder.
Now, Time Out's great, but Her Ladyship's a clever cookie and has perfected a look of remorse that she can turn on and off at will. She'll say sorry in an appropriately sheepish tone and has even started, after lowering her eyes to say sorry, looking up and promising oh-so-sincerely "never to do it again". She has yet to learn that I'm not fooled.
Coming back, she's already looking all doe-eyed and getting ready for the "sorry, I promise" routine but I've decided to nip that one in the bud and get all Victorian on her. "Consequences", Supernanny said, so consequences there will be! She moves into Sympathy Vote Phase II - tears welling up, but this is Tough Mummy she's dealing with. Hah! Yeah!
When I tell her that she's got to clean it off the wall, she's strangely enthusiastic, so I give her a wet wipe and tell her to get to it, reminding her that she's going to be cleaning until it's all gone and if it's not done by dinnertime, then she'll have dinner and get back to cleaning. Rah!
I do cave in a little and help her out because in reality a 3-year-old's cleaning skills aren't all that, but there were some good excuses:
- My arm's hurting (yeah, look at my caring face)
- [sits back] Mummy, I'll just watch now and tell you where to clean (uh-huh? No, you'll clean too...)
- Mummy, it's making me so tired! - Shall we get you ready for bed then? - No thanks Mummy.
Do I feel even a bit evil... nah. We cleaned it all up and were friends again, so she got to play, Mr M was doing some colouring next to me and I was getting distracted by Facebook... or maybe a forum... or both.
A while later I was taking her up to bed and I cast my eyes onto the lovely cleeeee...
/argh
Mr M was last seen with a blue crayon in his hand and thinking about it, he had been rather quiet...
-----
Apparently hairspray gets it off...
I was just cooking dinner (butternut squash and parmesan risotto with grilled chicken - moderate success), when Her Ladyship came bounding in, grinning and declaring "Mummy, come and see what I've done!". You know it's trouble when you realise that the previous 10 minutes were strangely silent. As she turns around to lead me to whatever wonderful thing she wanted to show me, I notice the wax crayon in her hand...
... and there it is - a wonderful rendition in brown all over my lovely white hallway wall.
Fortunately, it happened to be right next to where I sit her for Time Out, so remembering that I should stay calm (thanks Supernanny), I told her to sit down, that she wouldn't have any television for the rest of the evening, that I was exceptionally disappointed in her, that she should only ever draw on paper (and is the wall paper, dear? No?! No, it isn't - so DON'T DRAW ON IT!), and that she should stay put while I quickly save the chicken from burning. Maybe not quite that calmly and maybe not quite that concisely. Must try harder.
Now, Time Out's great, but Her Ladyship's a clever cookie and has perfected a look of remorse that she can turn on and off at will. She'll say sorry in an appropriately sheepish tone and has even started, after lowering her eyes to say sorry, looking up and promising oh-so-sincerely "never to do it again". She has yet to learn that I'm not fooled.
Coming back, she's already looking all doe-eyed and getting ready for the "sorry, I promise" routine but I've decided to nip that one in the bud and get all Victorian on her. "Consequences", Supernanny said, so consequences there will be! She moves into Sympathy Vote Phase II - tears welling up, but this is Tough Mummy she's dealing with. Hah! Yeah!
When I tell her that she's got to clean it off the wall, she's strangely enthusiastic, so I give her a wet wipe and tell her to get to it, reminding her that she's going to be cleaning until it's all gone and if it's not done by dinnertime, then she'll have dinner and get back to cleaning. Rah!
I do cave in a little and help her out because in reality a 3-year-old's cleaning skills aren't all that, but there were some good excuses:
- My arm's hurting (yeah, look at my caring face)
- [sits back] Mummy, I'll just watch now and tell you where to clean (uh-huh? No, you'll clean too...)
- Mummy, it's making me so tired! - Shall we get you ready for bed then? - No thanks Mummy.
Do I feel even a bit evil... nah. We cleaned it all up and were friends again, so she got to play, Mr M was doing some colouring next to me and I was getting distracted by Facebook... or maybe a forum... or both.
A while later I was taking her up to bed and I cast my eyes onto the lovely cleeeee...
/argh
Mr M was last seen with a blue crayon in his hand and thinking about it, he had been rather quiet...
-----
Apparently hairspray gets it off...
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