When we take a hike, my little girl likes to pretend to be a horse and insists that I hold her ponytail like reins. It’s a game to her, but to fellow hikers who see us at a distance it looks like I am pulling her around by her hair. She will occasionally make horse noises but never when our fellow hikers are near so that they can understand what’s happening here.
So if your child also enjoys pretending to be a horse, occasionally call out “Good job, little horsey” when fellow hikers get close so they are in on the game.
No photo available as my hands are always full of ponytail but here is a portrait of a horse by my little girl:
You know those things you put on drawers so your sweet little ones can’t open them? Have you installed one of these childproof latches I speak of? They help you avoid the chance of a knife-wielding toddler running around your house. So when my little girl got tall enough to start opening up the kitchen drawers, it meant it was TIME TO CHILDPROOF.
So I got my tools out and began the quick installation. Then I realized this was one of those jobs where the first time you do it, it’s really annoying because the screws are tiny so you keep dropping them and the tape that’s supposed to hold the little plastic pieces in place during installation isn’t very sticky so the pieces you so carefully lined-up keep falling.
Then you finally get it installed only to realize the one piece is too far back and your fingers can’t reach far enough to unhook the latch so at this point it’s child and adultproof. You start to ponder life without knives, forks, and other helpful utensils only to realize you have to re-install it. It goes a tiny bit faster this time around, and as you finish, you think about how the next ones will be easier.
Well, in my case, once I finally got the damn thing properly installed, I chucked all the dangerous utensils in this drawer because I was not installing another one. I walked away proud and impressed with myself, child is safe, a job well done. Or at least done.
Then about fifteen minutes later, I needed a knife to cut-up a snack and tried to open the drawer, but it was stuck and I thought, “What the heck is wrong with this drawer?” So I stubbornly ripped it open like the Incredible Hulk, and only then remembered I had installed the childproof latch. I walked away less proud and less impressed with myself, a job undone.
So if you perform an extremely annoying task, then forget in a matter of minutes and rip that sucker right off, give yourself grace.
Trying to be Mom of the Year over here and all those cute activities don’t seem to work out in this house. I made the rice sensory bin for my kids, which means the entire time they play with it, I call out every minute or so, “The. rice. stays. in. the. bin.” like some sort of rice dictator. And no matter how careful they are, rice ends up everywhere because it’s RICE IN A BIN.
Yesterday, I decided to try a baby oil activity where you put it in a freezer bag with colored pom-poms (and a piece of paper that has the same colors on the outside) so the darling child can move the pom-poms to the corresponding color on the paper. I found the feel of the baby oil inside the bag enjoyable and would soon learn that I found the feel of the baby oil outside the bag less enjoyable. I left my darling child to play with it (I had taped it shut) because one point of these cute activities is to occupy them while you cook, clean, etc. Right?! Silly mama. After she arranged all the pom-poms, she decided to investigate the inside, which means I have a literal OIL SPILL all over my kitchen table, chair, booster, floor. And after about ten washings, I realized the oil is more stubborn than me. So everything is just going to look a little shiny for a while.
So if you have never had the time or energy or resources to try these cute activities, don’t you worry about it. You’re not missing anything except extra cleaning. And if these cute activities work out for you, consider yourself blessed.
Keep on keepin’ on (I am not dancing here, I am slipping on baby oil).
(I am not dancing here, I am slipping on baby oil).
coming full circle 