For the most part, it’s me and him against the world. We are Winnie the Poo’s Kanga and Roo (wherever Kanga goes, Roo goes too). However, like a newly rich billionaire still married to his high-school sweet-heart, I get the impression that, although he is currently satisfied with his set-up, he is only biding his time until he can upgrade his Mammy-Model.
There are a few little tell-tale signs that he is plotting his way out of this family and into another:
1. Plans to lure in another
No lady can pass us, anywhere, without my son beaming up at her, gurgling sweet-nothings. If the lady happens to be blond, then all the tricks come out – clapping hands, coughing for attention, handing over his half eaten sticky rusk (at ten months his repertoire is limited). It’s as though he has figured out he wants a Mamma in his life, but maybe a blond one would better suit his lifestyle.
2. Plans to ditch the current model
It’s an old trick but a reliable one, if he stays awake for several consecutive nights, Mammy eventually breaks and call in reinforcements; the Grandmothers, at which point he will sleep the whole night through. This is a two prong approach because not only does it cause the Grandmothers to give unsolicited sleep advice to the Mammy which makes her want to kill people because she is so tired, it also makes Mammy question if she is a little crazy and was maybe doing something wrong.
3. Closing the door behind Mammy
My son is a speedy crawler and loves to be playing on the ground, so as I do housework, he crawls around with his toys and generally amuses himself. However lately he has found a new way to amuse himself; he will wait until I leave the room then quickly crawl over to close the door behind me, and then jam his fingers under the door so I can’t open it again. This can amuse him for hours, especially if I get stuck climbing in the window to rescue him – that slapstick is a level even Mr Bean couldn’t reach.
4. Wild hysteria when the hairdryer is switched on
This is a plot to keep me indoors, because this hysteria only ever seems to coincide with a planned night out – there aren’t enough nights out to test this theory fully, but I think I have seen a correlation. I think there is a level of subterfuge here which borders on genius (evil genius obviously, but genius nonetheless), because on one level it appears as though he loves me and doesn’t want me to leave, but on another level it’s almost as if he can smell the crazy and thinks ‘if I keep her locked in this house for just one day more, I think she will actually crack’.
5. Pushing wheeled objects through the banisters onto the stairs as I am carrying bundles of laundry
This, I feel, lacks the panache of some of his other tactics, but it is nonetheless effective, efficient, and it has the added benefit of ‘looking like an accident’. Touché son.
6. Playing up for the Health Nurse
My son can crawl, stand and is starting to take some steps. He won’t eat solid foods and he can’t sleep properly, but forward motion is not one of our difficulties, until of course we are called somewhere official for assessment, then it’s as though he is made of jelly. He rolls his head around my shoulder and wails at the top of his lungs while snots and tears merge in a river of destitute agony. He looks like an advertisement for Barnardos and in his head he has got to be thinking ‘no health worker can ignore this, I’m outta this family, smell ya later Mammy!’. Unfortunately for him our lovely Health Nurse has seen it all before – she gives me an encouraging talk and tells me to come back next week when everything will be fine. I swear there was a look of sheer disbelief in my son’s eyes as I was allowed leave that office with him still in tow.
This article originally appeared on HerFamily.ie