Even as I type this I still find it hard to believe that Moomin will be a year old at the end of this month.  A whole year old.  How?!  It's cruel how quickly time slips through our fingers, I can still remember going into labour to birth her.

As she's our fourth baby, she already has a toy shop worth of toys that were once her siblings as well as token additions just for her.  Advertisements, shops and catalogues are near exploding with noisy, shiny things that she absolutely needs, apparently.

She can't talk yet, what with her being 11 months old and nor can she write her own birthday list.

What would she want though if she could tell us?  It's not hard to work out, all it takes is an exercise in observation.

So I present to you, the birthday list of what a one year old really wants to play with:

Review: Monkey Mama Teething/Fiddle Necklace

www.tiarasandprozac.co.uk

I've spent a lot of time nursing.  In total I've nursed for over 7 years.  A lot of baby items I find superfluous and terribly gimmicky and thus refuse to be lured in by their ridiculous beguile.  Other items are just absolutely necessary.  Then there's those items that you never knew you needed until in a sleep deprived frivolous mania you buy one and then wonder why on earth you'd never bought one sooner.

If you're a breastfeeder chances are you've been scratched, pinched and poked by the talons of your vicious spawn mid feed as their wandering paws 'explore' your landscape leading to you exploring the depths of your blue vocabulary.  It's not that they're gits per se... They know not what they do. Honest.   They're just curious little beasts. They're also easily distracted and without something to focus on can become fussy at the best resulting in stretchio-nippleo syndrome (yes, I did just absolutely invent that term) as they attempt to pull away and look at something whilst still in the process of nursing.  Ouch. Sods.

With Thing Two I bought a 'nursing necklace' which was basically a long necklace of lurid plastic beads.  It was supposed to enchant her. It was supposed to entertain her. It was supposed to stop her gouging into tits with itty baby claws .  Yet the only thing it achieved was making me look like a prat.   Even The Dude wouldn't entertain it unless he wasn't feeding and he could wear it.  Much more fun to grab a fistful of my flesh and pinch whilst feeding.  But hey,  it's okay, he stared adoringly into my eyes as he did it.

The only thing that occasionally engaged their hands was a muslin placed between their grappling fist and my ginormo boob of doom.  If the muslin remotely attempted to impart an iota of modesty to us it was ripped off with an angry growl through a suckling mouth full of boob. What can I say?  My kids are proud of feeding and like to show it.

With Moomin being our last ever baby I'm on a mission to try the things I've been curious about.  I've been drawn to the beautiful simplicity of wooden fiddle necklaces for a while.  They're beautiful and wearable. They're understated and tactile.  They don't scream out baby or functional. Then I found the teething necklaces.   Thing Two was rather partial to teething on the leather strap of my Mother's handbag; strange child.  It still bares the teeth marks.   As I'm a babywearer it would be handy to have something always  at hand for Moomin to chomp on with the added bonus of being able to fiddle with it instead of yanking my hair. I bought mine from the lovely Monkey Mama Necklaces.

As soon as it arrived I put it on. It has an adjustable cord so can be worn as a long pendant when nursing for baby to fiddle with or to chomp on when sat on my knee. Worn shorter she can access it when in the sling.  Without a baby it simply looks like a funky necklace.

What can I say?  She loved it.  As soon as her hands began to stray and grab fist fulls of my flesh I'd dangle the pendant near them and she'd grasp it.  She's since fallen asleep several times clutching it tight.  It was invaluable at entertaining her at the recent influx of school performances keeping her occupied in my arms and on my knee as she fiddled and gummed it.  She evidently finds something satisfying and comforting about the tactile nature of the wood and the beads.

The only problem I face now is that as I wear it daily I find myself wanting a selection of them in different styles and colours! 

I highly recommend them regardless of wether you breastfed or babywear as all babies have curious hands and pesky gums. 

You can buy one from Monkey Mama Necklaces.  She makes a variety of fiddle necklaces and teething necklaces varying from natural to subtle to fun and colourful.

***Disclaimer: I received neither payment nor gift for this review.  I bought the necklace myself and was impressed enough to share.  All views and images are my own.

Please note these are not a toy.  These should be worn by an adult and babies and toddlers should be supervised at all times.

www.tiarasandprozac.co.uk

'I Hate You!'

It's easy to become complacent in parenting and then one of the little sods will throw us a curveball, just to remind us they're all so delightfully different.

The Preschooler has somehow picked up the phrase 'I HATE YOU' and will throw it at us whenever he feels we have done him a disservice. This is new to us. Things One & Two have never uttered this. We've always explained things such as the true meaning of words and to mean what you say. They know that they may strongly dislike something or someone but the chances are they don't actually hate them and vice versa with the term love. So it's somewhat trifling as to where The Preschooler garnered this phrase from that he throws around so readily. It seems we're having to go around this development somewhat arse over tit insofar as to say rather then emphasising the words power and meaning we're having to simultaneously strip it of it too. Why is this parenting lark never simple?

So how do you react to a three year old declaring that he hates you, or his siblings?

Things One and Two have that instinctive response of 'I hate you too' to which we have to insist they refrain from using, because they don't...hate him, not really.  They'll readily admit this when they think about it because that's part of what we're doing, trying to make them think about what they say. To only say something if they mean it. It's like when The Preschooler states 'You're not using my crayons, EVER again!' their instinct is to respond with 'well you're not allowed to use my [whatever] then!' Which isn't terribly helpful. rather than diffuse the situation it merely ignites it. It's teaching The Preschooler that his initial declaration was the right thing to do, that this is how we operate. This is how we treat each other and that too not share out of spite is acceptable.

I'll admit I'm working blind here but I respond to the infamous 'I HATE YOU.' with something along the lines of 'well that's a shame because I love you' I feel it's important to face adversity with security. That he realises no matter what he says, I still love him and he can't make me stop that. It often diffuses the situation. Other times I may reply with 'Oh, that makes Mummy feel sad as she loves you very much' which I feel, subtly without reproach, expresses the effect his words can have on others feelings whilst still re-enforcing that he is loved regardless.  Most of all it's accepting what he's saying.  I may not like it or agree with it and hell, I don't even think he means it but it's important that he feels his thoughts and feelings are valid.  Often we reflect more upon them once they're accepted.

Nine times out of ten within ten minutes he'll either spontaneously tell me he loves me or ever start a conversation with me. With the latter I'll occasionally respond with 'oh but I thought you hated me?' A rather sincere little voice will then tell me 'I don't really' he's had time to reflect on what he's said without being made too.

His other favourite phrase mid rage is 'I'm not talking to you anymore! ' usually said when you're trying to explain something to him. My usual response is an 'okay'. It's frustrating yet I know if I rise to the bait to make him stay and discuss something it will ignite. The lack of reaction is what diffuses this ticking bomb. Predictably within five minutes he'll start a conversation, this is where I remind him of his previous actions 'Oh but I thought you weren't talking to me? ' It's subtle and silent but this is where the penny drops and he realises the ramifications of his words and offers an indignant little 'But I am now! '

Often the above scenario is accompanied by a quality sulk. Usually if I'm trying to have a conversation with him or get him to do something I've asked of him the 'I'm not talking to you! ' is accompanied by him storming off to sulk somewhere. The Little diva even slams doors en route. The huntress within me is raging and indignant. How dare he walk away when I'm talking to him? ! How dare he refuse to pick the pens up that he threw! It goads me to chase and confront. To hunt him down until he submits.

And that urge? That instinctive indignant drive is exactly what fuels his behaviour yet how on earth is he to learn to control it if I can't as an adult?  Instinct is a powerful thing and we shouldn't smother it, the learning curve is that we shouldn't always act upon it.

Practising restraint I have to use the ancient art of patience. Not something that comes naturally to me so it's no surprise that with inheriting my explosive temper they'll also inherit my lacking patience.

Now it's the waiting game. Usually he'll either return with a sincere little 'sorry' or else he will ask something un connected.

If it's the former I'll ask him to tell me why he's sorry. It's important to establish whether he's understood what's happened or whether he just feels it's something he should say. Often he'll surprise me and relay what happened.

If it's the latter I'll calmly state that I'll happily talk after he's picked the pens up. This option he dislikes. It's important that whilst I'm not conversing with him I'm also not completely ignoring him as I feel ignoring is counter productive. To close communication channels completely is sending out a harmful message which could have repercussions on how and what your child communicates to you in the future.

However, I will firmly refuse to engage meaningfully until he's addressed the issue and embarked upon its resolution.

So for now it's the 'I hate you's' and the 'I'm not talking to you's' with the door slammings and sulks. Yes, he's a diva but he's our diva. He's also just a four year old learning how to deal with strong emotions and concepts. It's inevitable that he'll have to push some boundaries in the process. It's intrinsic that he feels secure enough to be able to do this. To know that although his reactions may not always be acceptable, they are valid.

He's learning important life lessons here like people piss you off and likewise you probably piss them off too.

And that's okay.

Honest.

15 reasons why Toddlers are just miniature drunks.

Ever wondered just how alike Toddlers are to drunks?

1. They both have questionable balance and have tendencies to walk into things.  A lot. They fall over, themselves, too.

2. Both will talk at you.  Not to you but at you.  As in you have no choice but to listen.  If you walk away, they'll follow.

3. Both will spontaneously laugh or cry, usually at absolutely inappropriate moments.

4.  Both have difficulty aiming wee into the toilet.

5. They both, apparently, love you.  Or so they tell you.

6. Neither can adequately achieve getting food into their mouths without making a mess, or wearing it.

7. Both decide they're hungry in the early hours of the morning when they should be asleep and empty your fridge.

8. Neither can be trusted to find their way home on their own.

9. Both can fall asleep mid chewing something.  Or mid conversation.  Or even sat on the loo.

10. Neither have any volume regulation when talking.

11. Both snot copiously, on you, when they cry.

12. Both find willies hilarious.

13. Neither can get a key into a lock.

14. They both tend to have an exaggerated and somewhat disastrous sense of their own capabilities.  In other words, they attempt inexplicable feats and inevitably fail. Painfully.

15. Neither should be trusted around water.

16 reasons why your toddler may in fact be a dog (& vice versa)

I miss The Dog terribly, there is an incredible hole in the family without him, yet if you think about it...... if you have a toddler or preschooler, they're practically the same.  One is just slightly less furry than the other.....

1. They both randomly lick and slobber on you.

2. They both get pissed off if you go out without them.

3. Both like walkies

4. Both announce in their own special ways when they need the loo.  Then expect you to clean up after them.

5. Both need grooming.

6. Both nick your food

7. Both will jump all over your furniture, with mucky paws.

8. Bath time is an... interesting and incredibly wet affair with both of them.

9. Both fetch you their toys and demand you play then have the audacity to get pissy, because you have their toy.

10. Both wait until you finally sit down and relax before they full on assault you with a physical display of their uhm ... 'Love'

11. Both physically attach themselves to people that dare to visit your home.

12. Both have a special relationship with the postman/letterbox.

13. Both follow you around the house, get under your feet and threaten to be the cause of you tumbling down the stairs.

14. Both insist on accompanying you to the loo.

15. Both can be trained to fetch your slippers, yet will try and keep them for themselves.

16. They're both noisy little sods.

15 ways in which Toddlers and Husbands are alike.

Ever thought just how alike your Toddler and Husband are?

1. If you disagree with them, they both restate their point louder and louder until you do agree.

2. They both snore, hog the duvet and drool on your pillow

3. They both need to shit when you are in the bath.

4. They both throw tantrums when something doesn't go their way.

5.  They're both hideously possessive over the TV remote

6. And grossly territorial over the sofa

7.  Neither will listen to a single word you say.

8. Both will turn their nose up at your cooking

9. Both will tantrum if you don't offer to help them.

10. Both will tantrum if you do offer to help them.

11. If you do help, I can guarantee both will tell you you're doing it all wrong.  Then tantrum.

12. Both will throw things across the room if they can't make/fix it.

13. Both whinge when they're taken shopping.

14. Neither can be relied upon to co-ordinate an outfit.

15. They both sulk, tremendously, if you dare point out they're wrong.

How to stop your preschooler hulking out at your antenatal appointments

Attending antenatal appointments with a pre-schooler in tow doesn't have to be the nightmare that you fear it will be, it just involves a few minutes of forward planning.  Thing Two came with us to most of our appointments when The Preschooler was in utero and likewise the Preschooler is now with us for the majority of Moomins antenatal appointments.

A lot of the tips may seem a little obvious and I swear i'm not at all trying to teach you to suck eggs yet quite often whilst in the waiting room we witness stressed out parents and unruly preschoolers.

Generally, they're not misbehaving they're simply bored.  When you're tired and anxious it's sometimes difficult to remember this fact.  They're not being bad.  They're likely just bored because lets face it, waiting is essentially boring.

So whilst remembering your notes, a bottle of water and your bottle of wee take five minutes to add the following:

* Snacks.  One way to distract boredom is to eat, a hungry child can turn a bored child into a hulk child.  Take more than you think you'll need because you'll never know how delayed your appointment might be.  Remember to try and avoid messy foods.  Also, pack a drink!

* Pack some crayons and some paper.  If you go into your local poundshop you can get mini colouring books with crayons that fit in the back in a variety of popular character themes.  These are small and are also perfect for travelling and eating out when waiting for meals.  Try and stick to crayons as pencils need sharpening and pens are a minature graffiti artists best friend.

* Take a book or two.  Encourage quiet activities, take a couple of their short favourate books that you can read to them and they can enjoy the familiarity.

* Stickers.  Most small people love stickers, if you can't get to a poundshop to get some reusable ones, get some standard ones but provide paper etc otherwise they'll helpfully 'decorate' the waiting room.

* If they have a small favourate toy be it a doll or a fire engine let them take it, people would much rather hear a child 'brumming' a car around the edges of a room than a tantrumming bored child who's gone beyond the edge of being brought back into quieting down.

All of the above will easily fit into your bag yet will make a huge difference to your child and thus make your appointment a lot smoother!

Whilst there try some of  the following to help keep your child from hulking out:

* Play eye-spy, if your child is still only wee do colour eye spy (I spy with my little eye something that's blue) 

* Talk to your child.  We all know how anxiety and such of waiting to be seen can tie us up in knots but distract yourself as well as your child by talking to them.  You'd be surprised how many children I see just in their buggy left to somehow entertain themselves whilst their parents zone out.

* Involve your child.  Talk to them about why you're there, about what will happen.  Tell them what the doctor/midwife is doing and why.  Point things out to them and tell them what they are, what they're for etc.

Nursery: Hooray I haven't broken my kids

You may remember a post nearly six months ago, about The Preschooler, who's not at preschool, yet.  No matter what you do or indeed choose not to do, as a parent, you will always have moments of doubt. Doubt is a natural feeling that enables us to examine our choices, proving we're not infallible and helps to balance our conscience, heart and head to make level headed choices.  For if we did not have moments of doubt how could we thus be so sure of our conviction?  It's proof we're sentient; that we're human.

Despite the confidence in my decision to delay Preschool, again there is that element of dread that tugs on ribbons of my heart as the inevitable time arrives when we decide 'It's time.'  The time arrives through a marriage of knowing the time is right and the need for an introduction to school structure before they'e thrown in at the deep end in September.  For Thing One and The Preschooler this is usually around six months before they start full time school (Thing Two went a year before due to her Birthday).

It doesn't matter how many times you've been through this before with the rest of your brood, your heart still plummets and your brain aches as you question your own parenting.  You can never quite fully convince yourself that you're doing the right thing, whatever that is.

So you take your feisty, funny, noisy, cheerful, confident little person to a taster session and they transform into a static mute limpet.  You don't blame them really, it's an alien environment.  Things One & Two had been used to spending a day a week with The Grandparents yet due to the new shinier grandchild, called 'An Apartment in Spain' we felt sending him sporadically to theirs when they're in England would defeat the object of a semi-routine and prove confusing.  You've never even left them, you have no money to go anywhere, nobody to go with and in all honesty as unhealthy as it may be, you don't want to leave them.  You see it pointless in having forces separation when you don't want it, why should you endure it just to please others? (much to relatives, doctors and The Husbands protests). Anyone who's been a long term reader will have probably realised by now that we don't 'do' groups and the like and instead focus more on attachment and socialisation through general life and ourselves.  So this, essentially, was the first time he's been in an enclosed space filled with similar sized children as well as unknown grownups who seemed insistent on being his 'friend'.  It's a lot to take in, a hoard of rampant snot monsters whizzing their tits off around him in an unfamiliar setting.

In this situation it's hard to remember that his sudden introverted state was a perfectly normal and human reaction to the situation and environment.  Yet the typical Mother's guilt kicks in as you begin to question yourself, gulping down the blame like it's Gin in the witching hour as the thought resonates and swells within your head 'I did this.  I've broken my child'  You're not even exactly sure whether it's your decision to bring them here that broke them or the fact you didn't do it sooner yet one thing you are sure of is that you've broken your child.  It's your fault.  You don't even know how to fix this, to fix them.   You find yourself nervously burbling at the staff that he does talk, honest and that he's actually a little hurricane normally.

Yet somehow, somewhere beneath it all.  You understand.  You're already, naturally supporting them.  You accept their reaction.  It's a valid reaction.  You neither attempt to coax nor throw them into the deep end so to speak.  You may not always trust yourself yet as always you're instinctively trusting your child.  You accept their hesitancy.  You remain visible and accessible, the proverbial rock in the ocean that they can navigate towards should they need you as they stare at you uncertainly whilst the well meaning teacher takes them by the hand and away from you.  You resist the urge to follow despite that tiny look of pleading in your childs eyes.  Yet you keep eye contact should they need it.  You don't follow yet nor do you move, you remain the rock so that they can get back to you.  So that they know you're still there.

You accept their return.  It's a lot to take in, both people and environment.  This is not neutral ground.  So, you tackle one at a time, you engage with your child within the new environment, helping them stain it with some familiarity.

The Teacher has forms, sign this, sign that .... your child looks stranded.  It would be easy to nudge them towards something or someone yet you know your child.  They don't need flooding with it, they need to assess and observe.  They need to now it's a can situation not a must situation.  Through accepting their uncertainty, validating it, you're helping them process it.

The little parental voices are whispering to you that you've failed, you're failing.  This is a test.  Your child isn't normal.  If you'd been a good parent they'd have made six friends already.  You've broken your child.

Yet just because the voices are there, it doesn't follow that they speak the truth.  These are the voices that tell you you're useless, fat and ugly.  These voices lie.

Fuck the voices.

These ludicrous expectations, aren't real.  How your child feels and reacts is real.  This is normal.  Your child is actually exhibiting perfectly appropriate behaviour to the situation.

The next session goes much the same way.  You're convinced you're condemning them to abject misery.

Then the first real day comes round.  The day you're supposed to leave this version of your child that seems a mere shadow of the one you know at home.

Every fibre of your being is screaming at you not to do this.  It seems unnatural to leave them in this situation they're evidently uncomfortable with in the hands of, what are really mere strangers.  You are physically fighting the urge to scoop them up and run, run to the hills, run home.

But you do fight it.

You leave them, with a kiss.

They're not clinging to you.  They're not crying.  They're not asking you to stay.

Yet they should be, afterall, all that extended breastfeeding, babywearing, co-sleeping and over attachment ruins them don't you know?  It's surprising you can walk with all those rods on your back.  They'll never function normally.  You've broken your child.

You go.  You worry.  The few hours feel like days.

Yet when you pick them up the staff assure you he's been absolutely fine.  You ask if he actually spoke, he did.

It continues.  Once again you're breaking societies expectations.  He's entitled to five sessions, yet you're only taking him for two.  For now.  For us, this isn't about child care, so thus we don't use it as such.

By the second session, you've been told he's joining in fine, he's made some friends.  He's interacting naturally because he's neither been forces to nor had any expectations impressed upon him.  This is him being in control.

He goes in excited.  He comes out excited.  He's never asked not to go.  Like his siblings he's shown zero distress.  He's happy.  Be it because of or despite of our choices.

So the truth is,  I didn't break my children.  Just like through doing things your way to suit your parenting/life didn't break yours.

 Different doesn't equal wrong.

Trust yourself, your parenting and your child.  It doesn't matter how you think they're supposed to react or be, that's not reality.  Reality is who they are and how they react.  Whatever and however that is, is okay.  Don't change yourself nor your child to try and aspire to be whatever you think normal is.  Everyone's normal is different.  Normal doesn't even exist, really.  It's just a word.  A word sent to break us.

So I didn't send my child to nursery until he was about 3yrs10m old and I haven't broken him.

That deserves celebration.  Gin in my soup it is then!

Toddlers guide to sleep by A. Toddler

How Not To Sleep: By A. Toddler


* The first rule of sleep club is we do not sleep.  The Second rule of sleep club is, we do not sleep.

* Sleep is for the weak.  Resist naps at all costs.  The only exceptions to the aforementioned rule are:

a) Your Mum or Dad are due to go out somewhere.  In this instance, nap.  Nap like your life depends on it.  They will agonise over whether to wake you or not.  If they choose to wake you, this is your golden ticket to tantrum all afternoon.  Win!  Either way you've thwarted your parents enjoyment.  Job well done friend.

b) Later afternoon / early evening naps are always permitted.  This will totally fuck with your parents.  They have this cute little ideology about routenes.  It's our mission to smash this fallacy into smithereens.  It's for their own good. Really.  One day we'll break the news about the tooth fairy to them too.  One fallacy at a time my comrades, nice and gentle.  If we nap late, we get to stay up late.  Yes, that means Peppa wins over Eastenders.  Wine reverts to tea and better still, it reduces the chance of a sibling being made and thus forcing you to share your toys.  Epic Win. Now, be warned, Mummy might cry but stay strong.  This is for her own good.  Parents are manipulative creatures.  We're being cruel to be kind.

* If you must nap, ensure you don't let your parents fall into a routene.  Every few months change your nap time.  Keep them on their toes.  We must prevent them from planning around us at all costs.  Any security we lull them into must be false.  Do not be predictable.

* You must not, ever, go straight to sleep at bedtime.  Bedtime isn't relaxing, quiet nor easy.  It consists of a complex string of events that must be enacted.  We are exercising our parents sanity here, it's an important work out for them.  We will be doing them a grave disservice if we didn't do this.  Here are just a few of a multitude of ideas that you can utilise to delay sleepytime:

- Need a wee.  They're so chuffed we're out of nappies, the thought of us wetting the bed terrifies them.  I think the pee must awaken the wet monsters or something.  Don't worry, we'll tell them monsters aren't real, when they're old enough to understand it.  Do not tgo straight to the toilet, do not pass go, do not collect 200 rusks.  Peer into every room along the way.  Stare at your willy or wriggle on the seat for a while.  Dribble on your PJ's and cry until they put new ones on you. Then scream like the world has ended because they've put the wrong pj's on you.

-Need a poo.  Aint nobody want to risk a poo-in-the-bed incident.  Make sure you use this excuse after the wee one.  Let them put you back in bed first.  Whilst on the toilet it is intrinsic you remain alert and awake.  Talk to your poo.  Grunt lots. Squirm.  Take your time.

- Need a drink.  Whichever vessel they present your drink in, it's the wrong one.  You must tell them this.  Make them change it.  Twice.

- Want another story.  No matter how close they are to a tantrum, they will not deny you this.  The Book of Parenting tells them they must read to us.  If they decline, we will lose all interest in books.  Forever. It will be their fault. A lifetime of failure will await us.  Because they wouldn't read to us.  Take your time choosing a book.  Choose a long one.  Then choose another.  Cry if they insist you pick just one.

- I'm too hot.  When they remove your blanket, tell them you're too cold.

- I'm hungry - If you're lucky enough to still have it on draught, persist until she gets those bad boys out.  It's your milk.  They're your boobies.  She needs reminding of this.  If she tries to get you to unlatch, bite.  Hard.  When she screams, cry.  Cry hard and loud.  It's important she feels guilty for this.  This isn't about you biting her.  This is about her making you bite her.

-Want a song - It's important we build up their sense of self worth.  Take this one for the team, and let your parents believe they can sing.  Try not to cry, I know it's painful to listen to.  Whichever song they sing, interrupt halfway through 'no not that one, uvver song'

Be creative.  Be firm.  It's vital you prolong bedtime as long as possible.

* If you keep teasing a dog with a toy but never actually throw it, they lose interest.  It's important to let them feel like they're winning occasionally.  Parents are like dogs.  We have to make them believe in the possibility of sleep.  It's this hope that keeps the going.   Otherwise they'll refuse to play again.  Start to go to sleep.  Make sure you make that little quivery sigh, they love that shit.  Let them think they've won.  Wait.  Wait.  Bide your time.  You have all night.  If you're lucky enough to have a nipple in your mouth, wait until she's unlatched you, let her move away then wake up.  Nice and bright.  Nice and angry.  Cry until she returns it to it's rightful place; your mouth.  If they're rubbing or patting you, let them stop, let them ninja move away.  Wait until they get to the door.  It's important they taste escape.  Then, cry.  Make them start again, from the top.

You'll be able to practice this rapid return technique around 9-10 times depending on how much Valium is in their system.  If they accidentally shout at you.  Cry like your heart is broken.  If they cry, cry louder.  If they beg and plead at you, stare at them in silence, with wide eyes and pouty lips.

* Let them go. If you love something let it go, if it loves you it will come back.  This one is all about timing.  It will take around 30 minutes for them to believe you're asleep, pour some wine, put a film on etc.  They need this thirty minutes.  At around 35 minutes, wake up and start shouting for them until they come up to you.

* Finally, on a week day, wake up several times throughout the night then sleep in late.  Parents thrive on rushing around in the morning, it helps them feel alive. If they're not knackered their coffee won't have a use anymore.  Their world will end.

The preschooler who's not at preschool (yet)

Other than mistaking him for a girl the other major assumption Joe Public make about The Toddler is that he should be in Nursery.  Why? Simply because he's three and a half.  Just because he's now eligible for a free place, people assume he should therefore be using it.

I've never attended a mother and baby group in my entire life.  Thing One was due to start reception, full time, two weeks following his fourth birthday so we sent him to nursery for at first two mornings and later an afternoon from the February to July merely to prepare him for the setting and routine.  He's an incredibly open, friendly, confident and academically advanced child.  

I clearly remember when The Health Visitor came to do routene check on Thing Two when she was a toddler and upon asking me which nursery she attended to which I responded none, she embarked upon a pro-nursery speech.  By the time she left, she admitted that having now met us and spent time with Thing Two she could understand absolutely why we didn't feel it necessary to send her and that she was absolutely flourishing at home.  We did send her, eventually, however Thing Two has the opposite problem to Thing One.  Thing one started full time reception class in infants a mere two weeks after his fourth birthday yet Thing Two started reception a day or two before her fifth birthday.  There is a lot of difference between a four year old and a five year old physically, mentally, emotionally and socially.  She started Nursery after her fourth birthday in a similar pattern to Thing One yet within a few months she requested to go five sessions a week.  Thing two has always been frightfully articulate and despite being somewhat reserved she is incredibly popular (she must have been adopted!) with teachers and children and consistently achieves several years ahead academically.

Both of them are confident, friendly, honest, genuine, caring, articulate and have excellent manners and yet I was viewed as being in the wrong for not sending them to nursery the instant they turned three.  Apparently it would hold them back or do them some kind of harm or maybe make them weird or something. Oh, did I also mention that they both love school too?

There's a huge belief that toddlers need to be socialised.  What young children need is someone to hug them when they need hugging, to play with them when they want playing with, to help them manage and understand their feelings and bodies and how to cope with stress as well as forming particular attachment to people.  Social skills can be gained at home.

Others insist nursery will help eradicate the shyness of some children.  It won't.  Shyness isn't always what someone does it can be simply who they are.  Some people are shy.  Shyness isn't a negative thing to be.  Rather than try and beat it we should instead help them develop healthy coping strategies and most of all respect their shyness.

I have nothing against pre-schools and nurseries and know many parents depend on them. However for myself and my children, they seem unnecessary and superfluous to our needs until they're about to start school.  I feel the British education system is too harsh and starts far far too early undermining the value of home and family.  In many countries formal education doesn't start until age 6-7 yet the pupils often are equal or even surpass ours academically.  Once in school, that's it for a very long time.  Once they turn five, unless you home school, they have to attend school. The government seem intent on separating our children from us as early as possible, enrolling into the system which they then have control over.  Because that's what it's all about; control.  Miraculously society have been led to accept this, to think that this is okay.

I'm genuinely happy that many toddlers are happy at nursery and that it was the right choice for their parents.   I just wish more people would extend the same courtesy and acceptance to those who delay nursery/pre-school

So yes, The Toddler is 3.5yrs old and not at Nursery yet and we're loving it.

12 Tips to encourage your child to read

We all know how important and essential reading is in life, not just for the practical things but for fun and reading really should be fun.  Thankfully I'm blessed with three little bookworms.   Things One and Two are many years ahead with their reading, during the holidays the local library had a competition to read six full books in six weeks.....Things One and Two did it in a week.  Although not a reader yet, The Toddler loves his books, he loves looking through them, he loves pretending to read them and he loves us reading to him.  So for anyone not quite sure on how to start and encourage reading, here's some basic tips:

1. It's never too early.  You can read to your baby whilst it's in utero.  The sound of your voice will be comforting and you yourself may find it relaxing, and a way to bond with baby before they're even born.  Once baby is born, read to them, It doesn't matter if they don't appear to show any attention.  Just read.  It encourages and creates a quiet place and time to relax and just be with mum or dad.  Let them explore the books, there's some fabulously tactile books available even if they just chew that amazing board book you got them, let them.

2. Have plenty of books.  We have hundreds.  Literally.  With places like Pound shops, Home Bargains, The Book People and second hand shops there really is no excuse to not have a heap of books.

3. Make them easily accessible.  We have toy tubs filled with books so when toddlers they can rummage through, pick their own...sometimes half the fun is in the choosing or rediscovering an old favourate under a pile of new ones. Make them a natural part of everyday life, utilise bath books and buggy books.  If you babywear you can attach buggy books to your sling.

4. Toddlers often enjoy word books, insofar as to say books full of pictures of things around the home or in nature etc where they can point at an item and you can name it.  As they get older they have so much fun 'seeking' things on the page you name.  Rhyming books are also a favourate where they can often finish the last word of the sentence from memory.

5. Let them see you read.  Children like to emulate adults.

6. Use subtitles.  As Things One and Two learned to read they'd subconsciously read the subtitles on the television, something we usually leave on permanently because of the noise The Spawn make.  This way they are actually reading whilst doing something else they enjoy, watching tv, thus giving it another positive association.

7. Unless what you are doing is absolutely 100% time critical urgent, never ever say no if your child asks you to read them a book.  Put your phone down, turn off the laptop, lower the volume on the tv.  Focus that moment on being with your child and sharing the book.  Cuddle them, laugh with them....enjoy the story with them.

8. Ask questions.  Ask them about the story, about the characters and the pictures.  Let them try and guess what will happen next or let them think about why something happened before.  Ask them about their favourite part.  If a character is happy/sad ask the child why they think that is.  Point out colours and details. Involve them in the story.

9. Remember it doesn't matter what they read, reading is reading.  Forget about the books they 'should' be reading according to whoareyou et al. Whether it's road signs, magazines, the Argos catalogue or the back of a cereal box, it's all reading.  Better still, it's natural curiosity fuelled reading.  They're doing it because they can and because they want to.  Encourage it all.  Discover what they're interested in, be it cars or Moshi Monsters and feed their interest with associated literature.

10. Never treat reading as a chore.  The more you try and make someone do something, the less likely they are to ever want to do it.  The key to successful reading is to ensure it's something they want to do and better still, like doing.  Never force it.  Personally we don't believe in homework for infants, they spend enough time at school without having to bring it home.  Don't tell your child they have to read that night, ask them if they'd like to.  Tell them you enjoy doing it with them.  Ask them if you can do it together Show interest in what they're learning to read and again ask questions about it that they can answer.  Children like feeling knowledgeable, they like the novelty of teaching you something.  Respect them if they don't want to read right now.  It's really okay.

11. They're never too old to be read a story.  Why not take it in turns to read a page/chapter each to unwind after a busy day, snuggle up and enjoy the closeness it can bring whilst you discover a story together, share the anticipation for the next instalment.

12. Finally, limit technology.  Seriously.  It's unnecessary.  I'm not saying ban it, yet there is no need for young children to possess phones, consoles and the like.  Let them have limited access to your laptop or pc, to explore Google etc, it's still reading and is a fun way for them to get answers to their many questions and expand their general knowledge of the world around them.  Let them be children and use their imagination.  To understand the magic of writing and reading. Provide them with the tools, plenty of books, pens and paper. You'll soon find them devouring novels in their rooms and writing their own.  A video game or tablet is only a gift until the next upgrade is available.  Letting a child organically nurture their own imagination through books however, is a gift for life.

Catching up

Woo-hoooooooooo! The kids are back at school! Let's sleep!!!! erm.. I mean party, yes, let's party.  Things One & Two have been back to school a week now, calm has replaced the chaos once more.  It's not that I don't miss the little buggers, obviously I do, it's my ever fraying nerves that are rejoicing.  Thing One is terminally bored and would rather roll around the floor bemoaning the fact like some demented dog than to actually play something whilst Thing Two has had just about enough of her two brothers and although she's a gem at playing and entertaining herself her brain was woefully bored and starving for academic challenges.  She was positively thrilled at the prospect of returning to school, I think she's broken, where did we do wrong?  That just leaves Jekyll and Hyde, The Toddler.  On his own he is possibly the most charming  and agreeable excuse for a small person ever yet throw Things One & Two into the mix and he becomes terribly possessed, screams in demonic tongues and beholds siblingocide as his dearest hobby as he venomously rips apart any shreds of remaining sanity we may possess becoming abhorrently contrary.  In other words, he turns into a right git.  Had he been someone elses child I wold have labelled the little fellow a complete bar-steward. Happy days.

Chasing the tail of Thing One's birthday was Thing Two's birthday, a mere two weeks later.  Obviously a complete lapse of sanity in our planning there.  Ooops.  However we had the rare feeling of satisfaction knowing that we'd fulfilled her birthday list of presents  Win.  Usually The Relatives all descend upon our modest abode for a buffet and cake, yet due to The Spawn getting older and somewhat bigger the thought was rather stifling not to mention the fact The Kitten is to be kept in the main receiving room so the constant opening of doors may have developed into a rather interesting bitch fight should she have escaped into The Cats dwelling.  So we had the genius idea of celebrating out of the home, with a trip to Pizza Hut for Thing One and The Chinese Buffet for Thing Two.  Infinitely more expensive, but bloody worth it.  Hassle free  Bliss.

After avoiding referrals like the plague for over a decade I've finally been given one to a quack, with the rather amusing name Dr Seine, pronounced Sane.  Yes, really.  I shit you not.

The Husband, who adamantly never has an opinion nor shoes anything but utter contempt for my constantly changing hair colours has spent the last few months protesting his sheer loathing for my current colour, an uncharacteristically normal dark blonde.  It's boring apparently.  Naturally, I have spent possibly the longest time in the past few years not changing it,  possibly just to irritate him, we all need a hobby after all.  Alas even I've become fed up and have predictably bought red dye today  Sorry Thing Two.  No doubt i'll have blood on my hands (& ears) and the bathroom will appear to resemble the site of a massacre by the time i'm through.  I'm frightfully slap dash with my ritualistic hair torture.

Must dash, I have a space rocket to fix and cat shit to scoop, why oh why do they wait until they have lovely fresh litter only to immediately christen it with a large shit then just to ensure the aroma penetrates the entire vicinity they refuse to evacuate the tray until they've kicked and scratched the litter round  or a miniature eternity?  Bloody cat.  Did I mention that she gobbled the cat grass we grew her in mere seconds then pulled up the roots...dumping them avec soil on Thing One's bed? There is a reason we nickname her twatcat.

Are reward charts really the best way to handle toddler tantrums?

If you're a part of social networking such as Facebook you may have seen a link to an article bandied about today asking the question ''Are reward charts really the best way to handle toddler tantrums?'

My answer? No.  So lets talk about tantrums. I think first of all we have to ask ourselves what is a tantrum exactly? Regardless of what they do it is essentially a form of communication.  Through training a child not to tantrum what are we really teaching them?  We are at a very basic level invalidating what they are relaying to us.  We are taking away their voice at an age when they're lacking in the fundamental skills to adequately control and communicate in a calm and socially acceptable manner.  Regardless of the subject of their tantrum, the fact their response has escalated (not necessarily deteriorated) to a tantrum is simply testament to their passion and how invested they are in the matter. Whether we agree with their opinion or not is absolutely immaterial, their opinion no matter how impractical or in our own opinion 'wrong' is still valid and matters.  

Don't get me wrong, I'm not at all suggesting that we should embrace tantrums or encourage them but we owe it to our children to acknowledge them, validate them, tell them we accept what they are saying/feeling (I understand you're feeling sad/angry right now because you want/don't want ....), explain to them why we're disagreeing then distract them and attempt to move on or if the tantrum has become absolutely uncontrollable, just be there.  Hold them tight if they'll let you or simply let them know where you are when they're ready for comfort or to talk about it and give them space to calm down.  It's far too easy to slip into the mindset that we as the parent know best, our opinion is what matters, we are right and they don't understand.  Of course they don't understand, it's our job to enable them, to help them understand.  With a toddler 'because I say so' really isn't at all helpful, it isn't teaching them or equipping them with understanding of why.  Taking it to a rudimentary level we are intrinsically denying them their opinion, their right of being heard and any chance of reasoning.  With rewards we are buying their co-operation and coercing them into silent obedience. 

Worse then that, we are giving them a tool to manipulate.  We are not teaching them to do something because it is perhaps practical or necessary but merely because they are rewarded for it.  If you take away the reward you risk a revolt in behavior.  

Teach don't dictate.  Enable them mentally and emotionally don't disable natural and instinctive reactions. Shaping and molding are not the same thing.

It is healthy to allow a child to question their world and that which is within it.  When we stop questioning we stop learning, to not question is to become complacent and who the hell could possibly be complacent in this world?  If we cease to question we lose our innate ability and potential to change the world.

We don't have to agree, we don't have to 'give in' but we should acknowledge and listen to what they're feeling to help both parent and child move on from a situation.

It's not epic chronicles of lentil weaving their socks whilst coddling and spoiling them, it's simply recognising them as fellow humans and helping them and ourselves become better people.

You know you're a mum when...

1. You sniff your babies bum to see if they've poo'd
2. If the latter proved inconclusive and it's dark, you do the finger test (and pray to the gods it's negative)
3. You've had poo (not yours) under your fingernails
4. You've caught vomit (not yours) in your hand to save bedding/clothes
5. You make up random songs about the most mundane things to try and coerce your toddler into doing something.
6. If the song fails you end up inventing obscure sound effects to the act you want them to partake in.
7. You're a master of bribery
8. It's only 10am and you're wondering if you can get away with downing vodka if it's disguised in a coffee mug.
9.You frequently have company in the bathroom when all you want is to shit in peace.
10. You get through the day and realise at some point, hours before, you forgot to put your boobs away after a feed (and have probably answered the door)
11. You pick boogers, that aren't your own.

Pick your battles: anything for a quiet life

The Husband and I openly admit we probably let The Toddler get away with murder. Maybe it's a third baby thing like with your first you're that highly strung that you have to fight the urge to sterilise their own hands before they suck them and have a mental breakdown if they don't develop exactly in line with the guidelines (well that and the bragging mummy mafia online ) yet by your third you'd even let them gnaw on the dogs tail so long as the dog doesn't mind and it keeps then happy. You cherish the extended holiday your ears get from a late talker and figure they will potty train themselves.....eventually, with any luck.

We figured out rather quickly that physically he may appear to be an absolute nut job of a dare devil yet actually he seems to know what he is doing and our interference is more likely to cause an injury. So we remain at hand and leave him to it (much to the grandparents horror) ditto with his incessant tea parties which result in him emptying beakers of water into his toy teapot then decantering it into his tea cups and inevitably the carpet.

Oh well. It's only water. Anything for a quiet life.

Or the constant pissing about with the dvd player (he will get bored eventually....right?)

Anything for a quiet life.

One thing I've learned since having The Spawn is to 'pick my battles'. I admit I'm awfully guilty of nagging and snapping at the most inconsequential of things simply because It is I who deem them inconsequential, indeed a rather arrogant assumption.  There is little as pointless as arguing with a toddler over something that shouldn't matter to us or adversely something that  obviously matters ferociously to then. You only end up getting ridiculously pissed off, they match it and raise you saucer wide eyes with fat dripping tears and screams. Eventually the anger subsides and you look upon The Toddler with the remnants of exasperation as they shake and wibble with exhaustion, thoroughly tantrummed out as those mere hiccups of left over sobs shudder and catch in their throats. It's these sad little breaths, devoid of the passion of the tantrum, that are the rocks hurled at your glass heart, shattering it. This small person that mere minutes ago had you boiling at the very peak of irritability has cast their witchcraft and you now inevitably feel sorry for the little toad. Worse though, you change from the indignant warrior of parental law enforcment to a chided, chastised lump of monster who made the Toddler cry. Because you were mean. So what do you do? They're down and out, defeated. The battle is over. You should be basking in glory, you conquered The Toddler.  You won! But no, you give in. Because they're cute and sad. Which renders the entire battle of wills null and void. The real stinger? You made them cry for nothing, because you gave in anyway. If you'd done that at the very beginning all this could have been avoided.

Yet still, that incessant and indignant urge to be right ensures this will happen again and again, some inherent need to be obeyed because you are The Parent and what you say goes. You are the law.

Sometimes you just have to take a step back and ask yourself, does it really matter? Are they hurting anything? Are they endangering themselves? Is it necessarily the end of the world if you just let them have/do it/get on with it?

In other words, anything for a quiet life.

Sometimes when dealing with The Toddler I get that instinctive grown up reaction to his wiles of 'why?' When what I should be asking myself is 'why not?' If it obviously matters to him, who am I to dismiss it? Just because it may appear silly/pointless/wrong to me. We don't have to understand our toddlers but we should make an effort to respect them.

Like the other night, The Toddler was most insistent that he simply had to have a hat that was on the bedroom floor. At bedtime. In bed. My first reaction was along the rather predictable lines of my internal narrator spitting feathers 'ffs, I don't need this. He should be going to sleep. It's bedtime. He's messing about. This is ridiculous. No. No hat at bedtime. He can jolly well get to bed.' Yet I stopped, thought about it and reasoned that he obviously really wants his hat. Why shouldn't he have his hat? Is it really such a problem? Is It really worth the battle? So, I bit my tongue. I let him get the damn hat and he settled down to nurse, wearing it and getting mightily pissed off with it repeatedly coming off everytime he switched sides. I waited until he was on his merry way to being milk drunk and when it next fell off I hid it under a pillow. He was too far gone to notice. We both got our way. No shouting or tears from either of us.

The night before, following a party and busy day he was shockingly hyper at bedtime. My patience wasn't at its best as you can imagine. Having spent a good while stage diving from the window sill to the bed, repeatedly.... whilst butt naked, I gave up trying to get his pj's and nappy on as I could feel the familiar rising fury build within me as I geared up to battle. Was it worth it though, really? I let him get on with it for a while, picked up my phone and pretended to ignore what he was doing, and the passing of time when he should have been in bed. Sure enough, eventually he decided he would let me dress him after all. Ah ha! Result! Oh here sleepy, sleepy, sleepy.... come to mama! Only maybe not. After settling in to feed to sleep he suddenly leaps up, launches himself off the bed and starts rummaging through his drawers, returning with two odd socks demanding I put them on. Oh for fucks sake. Give me strength.

This was a two pronged attack. Firstly, he should have been asleep ages ago and now he wants socks on? Secondly..... they were odd socks. Yes, they didn't even match.

Now my initial reaction wanted to have me tell him to put them back, get into bed and go to sleep. But seriously, what actually was my problem? so what if for some unfathomable reason he decided he absolutely needed to wear these socks to bed? Does it really matter if he does? So against my  so called better judgement, I resigned by simply putting the buggery things on him. He then happily went to sleep.

Anything for a quiet life.

Although I must admit, whilst his penchant for tutus, high heels and fairy wings utterly charms me to core, the notion of socks in bed....is terribly disturbing. People have divorced for less.

Old yet useful

It's not often I babywear The Toddler around the house. He is simply far too active and independent and would much rather be wrecking the lounge, stage diving off the window sill or making puddles on the carpet with his beaker.

However there are times when needs simply must, times when quite frankly I need to know exactly where he is and be assured he can't go anywhere. Not that he minds in the slightest he is rather enamoured with being worn on my back happily peering over my shoulder, restyling my hair with sticky fervent hands and burping repeatedly down my ear.

I have never been fortunate to be a true slingaholic, predominantly down to the financial bones of it or rather the lack of finance not to mention an inability to justify the albeit practical, frivolity of it. The most slings I have possessed at one time has been four with generally two of those up for sale. I have flirted briefly with pouches, rings and wraps yet I fundamentally lack the necessary patience and skill to be aquainted with them long term. I'm strictly a soft structured carrier mama.

My current 'stash' is my beloved toddler Wompat which I use everytime I babywear him out and about (selling both my fabulous Madame Goo Goo and a decidedly pretty Oh-Snap to fund) and my sentimental old Joey Sling which is the first 'real' sling I fell in love with when Thing Two out grew our bushbaby cocoon. There's something awfully poignant about a sling you have worn more then one of your babies in and as such I simply can't bare to part with it. IT has remained throughout the comings and goings of numerous other slings.

Yet It's not been used regularly since he was wee and is no longer knee to knee on the little chap.

Yet when I need to wear him at home its the Joey I turn to. I adore the familiarity of it, snuggly and soft like an old cherished t-shirt and even with a 26lb 28month old, still so comfortable. Unlike my stunning custom Melkaj I once owned, the Joey has much shorter and more manageable straps for a quick up.

So wether It's hanging washing in a wet garden or cooking tea whilst The Husband runs errands and the elder spawn play outside, if I need to sling him at home, the Joey comes out to play (he often resents being in his highchair whilst I cook and should I let the little bugger loose he turns the stereo on, the microwave on, the washing machine on, shouts at the dog, helps himself to biscuits from the cupboard and generally causes sweet bloody mayhem)

Although as I mentioned previously It's no longer knee to knee on him he always seems decidely happy and remarkably comfortable in it.

It's so easy to forget how lovely old outgrown slings were and so nice to see them in use again. So although often neglected and retired from daily duty, replaced by the Wompat, it does still have its place and use and not just within my heart.

Hopefully we have a lot of babywearing days left yet and get to venture into pre-school carriers, perhaps reviewing and road testing (first I'll need a lottery win) a few to banish the idea that you can only wear little babies and show case some of the amazing talent out there such as Up & Away carriers, Opitai, Monkey Mei Tai, Madame Goo Goo, Softai etc to name just a few of the immensely talented and creative sling makers out there.

I'll leave you with a few snapshots of The Toddler in our old Joey this evening.

To nap or not to nap...

So we are at that awkward stage with The Toddler insofar as to say he clearly isn't ready to give up his daily nap (and skipping it has the rather bizarre effect of making him wake even more during the night) yet he doesn't appear to want his nap until inordinately late in the afternoon which again has an unsavory knock on effect to bed time. As it is he usually goes to sleep at 10pm ish (Yes, I know...) and gets up around 8am ish (with anything from 2-10 wakings)

If he has a nap in bed, he will sleep 1-3hours. If in the sling or buggy he will sleep 30m-1h.

As the pictures show, he randomly fell asleep twice this week on no-nap days, late in the afternoon. The first being in the sling on a bus and the second occurred whilst having a snuggle and a feed on the sofa watching Only Fools and Horses. I happened to glance down and there he was asleep!

So it would appear that he will nap impossibly late in the afternoon regardless of wether we decide on a nap.

Toddlers.... strange things.

Fathers Day

Me: 'You know, you've got the bestest Daddy in the world'
The Toddler: 'I've NOT'.

Oh dear.

Thing One and Thing Two made The Husband a 10" (yes, really) chocolate chip cookie for Fathers Day and decorated it.  It's not actually burnt around the edges that's just the baking tray.

Finally managed to get some actual real live air today as the rain appears to be on a temporary Mexican standoff.  Also managed to test drive the new buggy.  I may do a review on it at some point, just because.

Have finally found a style of dress that doesn't make me look frumpy or pregnant, the downside is that it's brown.  I don't do brown.  It's just not a very 'me' colour.  Thing Two did take a picture of me in it today but my expression is somewhat questionable so I shall spare you from it.  Thankyou's in the form of alcohol are welcome.

The Toddler didn't nap yesterday and as a result he was utterly vile all afternoon and then tried to doze off whilst watching Rugrats so I decided an early bath was in order.  I say early it was 7pm, which is early here.  Typically the little bugger perked right up and run me a ragged mile round the twist in the bedroom. It's evenings like this when I ponder the notion of night weaning however, it's blatantly obvious he is no where near that stage yet and would be terribly distraught so for now it shall remain a ponder.  He eventually fell asleep and for once I had the opportunity of an early night.  Was it The Toddler that kept me awake? No.  My insomnia? No.  What did keep me awake was a jippy stomach and some twunt of a neighbour with a stereo.  Joy.  Bloody typical.

I may have to make a concerted effort to actually go to Asda soon as I've seen photographic evidence of a charming handbag with owls on it, yes owls! It's ludicrously cute even if the base colour is brown, I think I may perhaps be able to forgive it.

Dying to play

Following on from rainbow rice I had an urge to make some rainbow pasta.  The method is exactly the same.  I didn't bung it in the oven this time however, as last time I attempted it with the rice, the pasta burned. 

Unfortunately despite doing exactly the same for all colours, only one batch actually turned out okay.  I haven't the foggiest as to what on earth went wrong and despite two days in the sun, many of them aren't even dry.

Regardless, The Toddler and I sat on the floor and threaded them onto pipe cleaners, I chose pipe cleaners as they're more substantial for little hands to hold and thread then wool or string and they're fun to bend.

In hindsight if I were to repeat this I'd a) try and work out what went wrong so we have more colours and b) look for a slightly larger pasta tube to make it a tad easier for tiddly hands.

'woo yoo'

That moment when your Toddler first starts to say their own version of 'I love you' is indescribable and a total validation of all the times you've said it to them. 

However, when very shortly after they then say it to...................The Tweenies, it does kind of make you wonder about the genuinity of it.