Tuesday, August 05, 2008

(Late) Letter to a 24 Month Old Potential Best Friend

My darling Tricky,

Lo you are Two.

This makes me want to sit very very still and gaze off into the distance for a good hour or so.

And also do some heavy sighing. Two. Yikes.

There’s a sense of graduation here, a lot of the how to baby books I inherited when you were born seem to be finished with you and your ilk. Your kid’s two years old already? Then we’re done, move along, nuthin’ to see here.

You’ve already been moved along in Target. Instead of fruitlessly searching Baby wear for clothes in your size that are not emblazoned with trucks, rockets or The Wiggles, I now get to extend my pointless and endlessly frustrating quest amongst Boy's wear.

And of course there’s the potty, use of which really sorts out the tots from the men.

We introduced the potty in a fairly ad hoc manner, by which I really mean: lazy but cunningly disguised as being casual about where you chose to put your wee.

In our laid back, Gen X way, we were all: ‘sure you can sit on the potty if you want but like…it’s cold…and boring…and you’re wearing nappies anyway, why wouldn’t you just wee in them, god knows we probably would if we had the choice.’

But you, you of the two years of age and of the driven, environmentally aware Gen Zeds, you’re all: wee in the potty, wee in the potty, wee in the potty… and frankly that was hard because we found the whole thing very cold and very boring, even with all the stickers I bought to decorate your potty whenever you managed a little offering.

You would sit at stool, but then you would get up to inspect the three drops you’d managed and when we tried to praise you fulsomely and encourage you to get dressed and let us go back to the computer already you would fix us with a look of distain and announce: “more wee wee”.

This can’t be good for his bladder I would mutter to your father and then try and body tackle you as, for the tenth time in as many minutes, you got up to stand at the toilet and rest against the porcelain and proclaim grandly: wee wee in the toilet! But there was no wee wee in the toilet and so after a minute of cold resting it was back to the potty to sit it out.

There were times, I have to admit, when both your father and I even forcefully removed you from your beloved plastic throne and attempted to attach the clean mumpy (your version of 'nappy') to your shrieking writhing body and both those times we broke and took it off again and let you sit back down and concentrate on the business.

And both times you came up with the goods and we felt like mean, impatient, bastard parents and now we’ve learned our lesson and if you need to sit there then fine, sit, and I’ll get on with my reading. Or sort the washing. Or have my shower. Or write my second book.

This past month saw you make a very long and arduous plane journey full of tears and teeth gnashing and extreme discomfort. Oh wait no, sorry that was me. You had a fine time. And once we got to Perth you threw yourself into the coffee culture and fine dining and fish admiring and all that comes with a visit to Gramma and Papa.
You are fearless, a trait you share with Naughty Nephew the 2nd, and unfortunately we have fed the fire by giving you the plastic push round motorbike for your birthday.

Love is not too strong an emotion for the affection with which you greet the plastic motorbike each day. During the first few nights it even had to be placed near your cot at night where you warmly wished it a “Doodnight Moderbike”.

Riding the motorbike has also extended your vocabulary you now say “Go Fast!” which is both an observation and a demand.

You also say “Go Down The Hill” which is both a demand and a cold gripping vice like hand upon my heart

Now that you are Two, you are also developing a certain formality in the way you address us.

Yes the old imperious command is still there, but there is now nuance in your commands which I put down to you realizing that actually we are people too. People whose glory days may well have been back in the eighties but people nonetheless.

I casually mentioned to you one day, somewhere between watching an old episode of Seinfeld, playing Twister and humming a classic Duran Duran song (Girls On Film if you must know) that though we, the motherperson and the fatherperson, are your Mumma and Dadda, they are not actually our real names.

And…it’s not my preference at all but I have to admit it is very cute when now and then you call out: “Nessa!” “Tisstafer!”

Although it loses its appeal somewhat when you follow that with: GET UP! CHANGE MUMPY, WEE WEE ON POTTY.

Current fave book is Duck In The Truck which Aunty AJ gave you and which you seem to have mostly memorized and Raven which is a book that Gramma and Papa brought back from Canada and is about tricky old Raven who wants to bring the sun to the poor people who live in the dark and the cold (obviously waiting for their toddlers to finish on the potty) and so impregnates the Sky Chief’s daughter in the form of a pine needle (same old same old assisted reproduction in indigenous mythmaking etc) and then when reborn as a toddler, is given the sun to play with… ahem. You love this book which you call: Waven.

Green Eggs and Ham, (Gineggsahum) also, still kicking goals.

This morning, when you got into the Big Bed with us, as you do every morning, we had a good old rave, you and us, about…oh…why we have snot in our noses and why we don’t kick people in the face or do wee in the bed and why we should have lots of cuddles and kisses and how the puffing billies are waiting at the station and where is the moon when the sun comes up.

That’s what I notice most about you and Two. We’re speaking the same language. I mean, we’re even on a first name basis now.

I just need to get you hooked on a bit of New Romantic music and watch some Seinfeld together and I reckon we’ll be best friends forever.

So Much Love (No really!)

Your very own


Dramalish said...

Oh, OG. Why does this letter make me sad? I mean, not sad in the boo-hoo way, but more in the sit quietly and stare for an hour way.

I suppose it's because I have a two year old, too. And she shouts my first name in the morning when she wants to give up.

But she also adds, "Ay Keem! Ay keem!"
(She does not believe me when I tell her ice cream is unacceptable breakfast fare).

So I'm sad that my baby is quickly becoming a memory, but thanks to you I can look forward to a potential best friend.

Thalia said...

oh lovely tricky, I can hear your voice in my head just reading your mummy's writing. Good luck with that potty thing, it's just one step into the great big world out there.

LL said...

ahhh, just lovely...

Lil'Mooey calls me by my 1st name & surname, which makes feel like I'm in trouble.

Betty Flocken said...

Your letter to Tricky is a wonderful love letter combined with a record of his life markers. I love them all; this one is my favorite letter.
He is adorable.

Krissy said...

Oh my goodness. How crushingly adorable is your child? He absolutely slays me.

Wallace went through a period of time where he called us by our first names. We kind of liked it. It was short-lived, though.

Your little boy is so utterly fabulous. Please kiss him for me and wish him a very happy twoness.

Lut C. said...

Two years! Such a big boy he is!

Rebecca said...

Both my boys became obsessed by Duck in the Truck at the same age as Tricky. J insisted on having it read over and over again, without allowing for any other book in between. I suspect subliminal messaging. My brother went through the same thing and can't stand the sight of it! Congrats to your gorgeous little one on his many, many achievements (and to you too!).

Anonymous said...

I imagine his voice as being somewhat raspy for a tot his age... I'm so curious to know what he sounds like, but don't want to mess up the tone I have in my head.

OvaGirl said...

It is a bit more raspy now because he has a hacking cough that we can't seem to budge but generally I think of it as being loud and maybe a little deeper than you might think and basically the best and dearest little voice in the world.

Mima said...

OG he sounds just wonderful, and your descriptions really bring him alive for the rest of us. Love the potty tales, and I'm amazed at how determined he is to do this his own way, as long as you let him get on with it things will work out just fine!

Not quite blogging again yet, but just wanted to get round and say thanks for the support over the last couple of weeks as it has meant so much.

mig bardsley said...

Gorgeous boy :)
Your letters to Tricky are the best! I love them :)

slouchy said...

Ahh. This is so poignant.