In a boundry country

Bumper has really increased the usual testing of the boundaries lately. Like by about 1000%. Give or take 17%.

For instance in the food arena, offers of her favourite hummus result in her taking a mouth full of water and what possibly what might have been a covertly chewed crayon (still can't crack that wax habit) and spitting (!) it into the recently opened tub of chick pea delight.

This was followed by a slap shot of her plate onto the floor. Then a request for more falafel and hummus, the recently flooded and flying food.

Since I cannot deny this is my kid - basically because we are home alone and there is no one else to blame - I do what any average parent does, I burst into tears hold back the urge to yell and speak in an even voice, simply explaining that this behaviour is not acceptable then this is followed with pleas for the return of your other child, the one who smiles, says thank you mommy when served her meal, and eats without too much fuss then I ask her to help clean up and we move on. So far it's being met with mediocre success.

Success is considered achieved if I can get her to help clean up the mess in any part and failure would be something like... say, her throwing a full glass of liquid anything at me.

The most recent (yes, multiple incidents - it's like she's practicing to be a diva and I'm her lover scorned) was thrown while I was standing near my lifeline laptop (near accounts for 1/3 of our living space - our type of apartment dwelling falls under the real estate code descriptor of "cozy"). She wailed with laughter and scout's honour, I wasn't using the laptop at the time - we had just finished dancing to Basement Jaxx (for the 50 billionth time). All was calm and apparently the temptation to throw something at mom was too hard to resist.

This phase is exhausting. I'm apparently no fun right now but these statements are punctuated with "LOVE YOU MOMMY" or "hug me" or "you're so pretty mommy". And then good behaviour until the next outburst. It's like living with a lunatic.

And to think, that used to be my crown to wear.

you are the lunatic mommy
not me - not by a longshot

Six months to three and I shudder to think what that age might bring. Hold me.

Oh and in case you are trying to figure out why I have Big Country up there at the top - no real reason other than the namesake song is stuck in my head - go Scottish 80s rock!