Tuesday, 20 April 2010

Not be böse mummy! You be happy!

Nothing beats the wisdom of a 3 year old. Like her telling Opa to "drive carefully, mummy's got a baby in her tummy!"

Picture this, Cubling and me stuck in a flat which does not ever see children. There is breakable stuff, no toys to speak off, too many light and other switches, not much to keep a busy toddler, well busy. And her Opa, bless him, doesn't really interact. It's not his thing, there's not much interaction with me, nevermind a three year old who speaks an odd mixture that he hardly understands (partly due to mild hearing loss that doesn't yet call for a hearing aid).

So all day, Cubling hears an endless litany of "no! Don't touch. Leave the cushions on the sofa. Don't run around with scissors in your hand. Drink your juice at the table so the glass won't drop and smash on the tiled floor. No, you can't have more chocolate or Gummibärchen. Leave the rabbit on Opa's bed, he doesn't want it in the living room. Stop jumping on the floor, the neighbours will go mental." This endless litany, as the day progresses and I get increasingly fed up with repeating the same thing over and over again, becomes louder, more forceful, at times even angry. Add to this her endless repeat of questions (Was ist das? Warum?# Where's U.? Where's Opa? Read a story! I press this button. I möchte Mr Maker. I möchte kuscheln. I hungry) and my patience is waning. Thank god for Mr Maker, who is on every weekday in a dubbed version and keeps her happy for 20 precious minutes (like now).

She understands and uses the concept of "later" and "in a wee minute" but ask her to wait even for a little while, and the answer is "come, come, mummy, come. Now!" All the while I constantly attempt to tidy up after her to keep the peace. And she's generally faster creating more mess (to be fair, mess in the eyes of an adult, she's really just trying to find stuff to keep her entertained).

So this morning, she found a box of pegs. She took it, brought it outside to the washing line and started clipping them onto the two items of washing on the line. Seeing with my father's eyes, I told her not to and to put it back. "Not so loud mummy", she said, "don't be böse."*  With her index finger up to make sure I listened, she added "You be happy!" Then her disarming smile. "Give me a kiss" I said, and she came over for the loveliest of kisses and a big hug. And I let her continue the fun which really wasn't doing much harm.

Of course it didn't take long until Opa made sure the box went back to where it lives, not without me asking "warum?"#

*böse translates as something like annoyed, angry.
#warum? = why. Was ist das = what's that?



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