If you ever see me out and about you will recognise my gait as the posture of a woman being slowly and systematically beaten down by a domineering tyrant. Also known as The Child.
I shuffle forward, lugging my clapped out old body, stooped from so many horsey rides. My fingers are gnarled and claw-like from hours wrestled his wriggling body into unwanted clothes. My eyes are deadened, a blank stare, my teeth stained from the course of red wine I’ve put myself on to help weather his toddlerhood. Being the slave-parent of a hectoring toddler can faintly resemble being at the mercy of a two-foot dictator who’s vagaries and demands are impossible to keep up with.
10 Times my Toddler Put the “Dick” in Dictator:
1. Whenever I turn left in the car when he doesn’t want to
“No, no, NO THERE,” his shouts escalating until I give in. No joke, I have actually done a u-turn and driven the long, more traffic-clogged route home just because I’m too tired not to give in to him.
2. When I tried to eat MY dinner
It was the exact same as HIS dinner, but still no dice. I had to surrender it to The Child so that he had ALL the dinners.
3. When I sat in the wrong chair
Whatever chair I choose is always the wrong chair. “NO, MUMA,” he shouts until I wearily move to another chair. If the new chair won’t do, I have been known to just sit on the floor defeated such is my pathetic weakness in the face of his bizarre whims.
4. When he stomps and does this commanding little wave that looks unnervingly reminiscent of the “Sieg Heil” salute
It’s not a good look. Particularly as The Man is Jewish.
5. When The Child refuses to wear anything, ANYTHING except his ‘nee-naw’ pyjamas all day every day
I once even got so far as to put him in jeans but he bitched so much that I just gave in and put on the ‘nee-naw’ pjs again. I am weak.
6. Sometimes he won’t let me wear my hair up
Seriously. How micromanaging and controlling is that?
7. When I have the absolute cheek to try and change his soaking nappy in the morning
What a bitch am I for thinking he might not be comfortable with his nether regions encased in soaking plastic.
8. Most nights The Child demands to go to bed by chanting “bed, bed, BEEEEEEEEEED.”
HOWEVER, if I actually have the audacity to put him to bed as per his demands, I’m in for a world of pain. My every move from putting his blanket on to kissing his head is met with “Muma, NO!” or worse: “Muma, GO” accompanied by his weird, little Hitler salute.
9. He is not tolerant of PDAs AT ALL
Whenever The Man tries to show me a bit of affection, The Child invariably intervenes and separates us. Occasionally we try to protest, but our pleading is easily drowned out by his aggressive SHOUTING.
10. When all he has to do is give me a look…
… And I silently hand him the phone/crisps/biscuits/book that I was enjoying.
*Lies down and gives up on life*
Are you living with a teeny, tiny adorable dictator? Feel free to have a vent in the comments…
Image via Flickr
