Very rarely, I'll get most overcome with that awful mothers guilt thing and randomly decide to do something somewhat different with the little cretins, who usually are bloody good at just playing.  Unlike me, I'm crap at playing (unless it involves dressing up, as an elf. Oh do behave! not in the bedroom) and despite being a domestic slattern of the first degree, I'm actually desperately squiffy at the thought of messy play.

It's even a rare event to get paints out here, they have free access to pens and crayons etc but paint is an entirely different ball game, especially as The Toddler appears to lose interest after five minutes anyway.

So, at some point today I lost the threads of my fraying sanity and decided to make some 'cloud dough', i'm sure if you have a lunchtime fling with Google you'll be inunindated with recipes and ideas for this ...erm...stuff.

It's terribly simple to make, at it's most basic you need two ingredients from your store cupboard, flour and oil (any cooking oil will do, even baby oil)

I used 6 cups of flour and 1 cup of oil.  You simply combine them that really is all there is to it.  I told you it was simple.  I added some yellow food colouring with some perverse nod to to the weather, thinking we'd have our own beach play despite the snow and ice outside.

It will look like a rather lumpy dough, not to worry, this is exactly how it's supposed to look.  No really.  I'm absolutely not shitting you.

However, when you touch it (unfortunately a necessity. Balls.) it has the feel of wet sand, if it wasn't for the fact it gets under my nails and into my jewelry the texture would have been delightfully cathartic to play with)  The Toddler found it fiendishly exquisite or at least he did after I managed to encourage him to not be a wuss like me and do away with the spoon.

With the aid of a pot it was sand castle time!  He remained rather conservative with his efforts at first, yet soon lost all sense of reservation and it was cloud dough everywhere, and I mean everywhere.  This alien creation in our abode was so enticing that even Thing Two begged to play

I was decidedly impressed with the longevity of it's attention holding spell, it was nigh bewitching to them, which almost made it worth while.  Yes, almost   Remember me saying it was messy?  That was a horrific understatement, the bloody stuff gets everywhere.  I even found the wretched stuff on my jeans clad arse.  How? Clothes, floor you name it it had been utterly cloud doughed.  Thing Two tried to escape for a wee, treading it all over the carpet en route.  Argh.  What a catastrophe.  It was even in The Toddlers eyebrows.  So operation clean up involved stripping them both down and me sweeping and wiping whilst it seemed to breed and multiply before my very eyes with The Toddler helpfully singing 'clean up, clean up, everybody clean up!' only everybody wasn't cleaning up, just me. Finally an  impromptu bath, sometimes it really is the easiest option.

Did they love it? absolutely.  Was it easy to make? Ridiculously so.  Cheap? cheap as chips. Would I make it again?  Are you shitting me? Maybe once a year, with them in the nud, outside, at someone elses house.  Possibly.

I think in future a little more planning may be a good idea, perhaps one for summer and the garden.  That's the entirety of my creative maternal inspiration exhausted for another few months now.  Even i'm not masochistic enough to do messy play routinely, afterall that's what The Grandparents and (eventually) Nursery are for, right? 

Toddler funnies

Whilst sat at the table eating dinner, The Toddler suddenly stops eating and mumbles 'oh, my phone's ringing....' followed by his small hand rummaging around the waist of his pj's (yes he's having a pj day, so sue me) with a more frantic 'my phone! my phone is ringing!' He then proceeded to answer this imaginary phone, apparently it was Granddad.  I'll be having words with Granddad he should know better then to phone at meal times. tsk tsk.

However, not entirely finished with administering us our daily toddler funnies, he decides he's finished his dinner, gets himself out of his high chair (yes, really) and brazenly goes to stand on The Husbands chair (seeing as The Husband is having 40 winks, yes I did say winks not wanks, in bed) and rummages around in the corner of doom finding a small mirror on a keyring.  Guess what he does next, no seriously, I'd like you to guess.  

He pulls down his pj's and his underpants and using the mirror starts to scrutinise his willy 'My winky....hmmm....mmmm.....My winky okay' then follows this with holding the mirror behind him 'My bum, hmm, my bum okay too' Terribly glad they're both okay and passed his somewhat detailed inspection.  What a novel way of trying to make his family choke to death with laughter at the table.  

I bet you never guessed it. You see the people I have to live with?  Is it any wonder I need prozac?

I suppose I really ought to tear myself away from the laptop seeing as Things 1&2 are outside playing in the ice that is cunningly disguised as snow and The Toddler has commandeered my phone and is frighteningly proficient at navigating himself around it.  Bugger, Thing Two has come in, exactly ten minutes after going out because she's in her words, frozen. No shit Sherlock.  It's not like I didn't tell them it would be bloody cold.

The Toddler

Because it's been a while and they're so small for such a remarkably heart breaking short amount of time within which they undergo so many changes and really do light up our days, I figured it was about time for another post dedicated to him.

I suppose technically he's The Preschooler now what with him turning three, yes three, next month.  Excuse me whilst I weep.  No really.  Seeing as The Husband is most clear in his 'No more babies' line, The Toddler is my last beloved little person and I find the dramatic pace at which he's growing up terribly alarming whilst my womb positively wails 'please sir, can we have some more?'

Next month he will be three.  So far we've been breastfeeding for 35 months.  He's not worn any kind of nappy for around seven months now (he pee's at the toilet, standing on his tippee toes!, In an absurd way it's incredibly cute).  He still doesn't sleep through.  We still co-sleep.  He talks more and more every day, we understand about 75% of it, he often has to resort to charades to enlighten us with his insights and demands.  He is undeniably friendly and incredibly polite, not a door opened for us goes without him chirping 'thank-you!' He has a rather extensive and amusing amount of quirky idiosyncrasies already.  He genuinely is a beautiful, charming, funny, sarcastic little sunbeam.

A few toddlerisms from him lately:

Whilst we were out and about and he was as usual in the Wompat on my back, we could hear the noisy chorus of birds around us to which he repeatedly shouted with increasing irritation 'SHUT UP TWEET TWEETS! SHUT UP!'

The day before this whilst once again high up on my back in the sling we caught him trying to physically reach up and pluck an aeroplane from the sky.  Bless.

Just last night, at bedtime, The Husband was lovingly trying to read another book to him when The Toddler shut it half way and declared 'The End' followed by 'Get bent **** (He still refuses to call him Daddy/Dad and insists on always calling The Husband by his first name.  He's always done this) Go away.' Charming!

He is still insistent on foraging for his own food and frequently raids the cupboards and even drags his little stool in the kitchen on the sly so he can raid the fridge which often results in me finding little gems like this in the fridge.....

Whilst chatting about his upcoming birthday:

Me to h: 'what do you want for your birthday?'
The Toddler: 'Robot!'
Me: 'anything else?'The Toddler: 'Chocolate cake!!!!'Me: 'anything else?'The Toddler: 'Doughnuts!'Me: 'okay, anything else?'The Toddler: 'A cow.'[pause]The Toddler: 'and a clipclop!!!'Okay, that's that sorted then.....

He still adores dressing up, twirling in tutu's, rolling his eyes at you in complete disdain and attempting to control Things 1 & 2.  He frequently calls out for 'elf rescue!' and is fabulous at fighting The Husband should he dare to bug me.

Best go, he's just tried to cover up his intrusion on Things 1& 2 upstairs with a rather sweet 'Goodbye my friends! My best friends!' as he zooms down the stairs at 80mph on his arse.