With no prior experience to draw from, Mini Mck may be exhibiting the normal behaviours of a 17 month old child. He does seem a handful compared to his NCT buddies. I don't like to use such an objective word, but it isn't that he's naughty. He is however a whirlwind of energy, spending a scant few minutes on each new venture before moving on to the next, demanding to be picked up, released from his chair, wanting what he can't have and blah-ing when he doesn't get it. And he wants a lot. This all now comes with a new addition of a whining 'maaaa, maaaa, maaa'-where did that come from? I have a class of 23 nine year olds, and they are not as challenging as our single son, especially when he is on (or should it be off) form.
That's why I take my metaphorical hat off to Mrs Mck, his stay at home mum. Yesterday she packed the day with activites, painting, sandpitting, swinging in the park, singing group, reading, more reading and other pre-toddler delights. She was proud that he didn't watch a single episode Chuggington. An engaged Mini Mck was a happy Mini Mck, but an activity packed day isn't something that anyone could keep up, day after day.
Mrs Mck second guesses herself a lot. She, as with most mums, wonders if the choices she makes are the best for her child. Does he watch too much TV? Should he watch any TV? Is he eating enough? Is he warm enough?...This leads to guilt when she feels she hasn't make the right decisions.
To Mrs Mck and all the Mums out there, please stop feeling guilty. Your child's brain will not rot from watching TV. If they nap for longer than usual, let them, it won't damage sleep habits- so put up those aching feet, enjoy the well earned break and eat that cake with a fresh brew of tea. If a trail of toddler destruction is wrought throughout the house, pause to enjoy the toddler trail that so many couples try for, but sadly will never experience.
To Mini Mck's stay at home mum, I love the fact that when I now come home you are not wound up from the infighting and politics of a well paid, but soul destroying job. Although you may still be wound up from tempestuous toddler tantrums. I love that you are no longer arriving home at half past six in the evening in a drab starched uniform, but instead I get home at a sensible hour and your hair is tussled from rahh-ing around on the floor, or from being yanked during the Battle of the Bulge-ing nappy. Your Mums Uniform has the hand print of yoghurt on the shoulder, gold stickers on your bum, paint on your elbows and sand in your turn ups. You wear it well.
Your son loves you (and so do I).
These pictures sum up for me the wonderfully joyful, caring and loving relationship that Mrs Mck and Mini Mck have already built in such a short time.
