It’s not only the Girl who’s had cause to remind me of life with a baby recently; the Boy is growing up at such a rate that I’m back to feeling like I did when he was a nipper, and was always a few steps behind in his development. Just as I had a handle on things and felt a level of confidence in dealing with him, bam – off he shot into a new phase, leaving me helpless behind.
He’s a little boy now, who has started properly thinking for himself; I was sort of dreading this, and it turns out I was right. This week we’ve had teenage sulks (over our refusal to cave in and get – no pun intended - a Batman cave), rude outbursts (“GOD! You’re SO STUPID! Stop ANNOYING ME.”) and back-chat (“Well if you put me into my room I’ll just get out again SO THERE.”)
We also had this conversation, as we looked at a picture of a dinosaur skeleton:
“Why him dead?”
“Because he was probably very very old.”
“And him died?”
“Will I die?”
“Yes. Everything dies. But you won’t until you’re very very very old.”
“I don’t want to die.” Whispered, close to tears
“It’s ok. Don’t worry. It’s so so far away.”
“But I don’t like it...”
“You’re only 3. It won’t happen until you’re 103.”
“But I don’t want to die.” Choking up
“But I’ll be there with you.” Grasping wildly at straws “And Daddy. And everyone.”
“I don’t want to!” Rising hysteria “Why me die, why?”
Starting to panic now. All intentions to have a calm nothing-to-be-worried about adult conversation about this have disappeared.
“Ok, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“But everything dies!”
“Well if you don’t want to, I’ll say Stop! No Dying! And you won’t.”
“But who you will say it to?”
Ummmm “To you.”
“But I’ll be old and DEAD.”
“Wow! Look at THIS picture! It’s like the Batman cave I’m going to get you.”
It worked, too.