This evening, whilst I was pouting in front of my mirror for an instagram photo, like the poser I am, I overheard what was possibly the funniest tantrum Roo has ever had.
It all started when Ross found a poo in the toilet, and no loo roll accompanying it. You see, my lovely little daughter seems to think that wiping her bum is an optional extra when going to the toilet. I think it’s partly because she finds it difficult, and partly because she just can’t be bothered, but either way, if she’s not being supervised, the chances are, she won’t wipe.
Yes, you don’t need to tell me, I know it’s disgusting. We’re dealing with it. I live in hope that one day I won’t find a skid mark in her underwear.
Anyway, no prizes for guessing who had been to the toilet mere moments earlier. Ross asked her nicely to wipe. She refused. He told her she had to. She disagreed. He picked her up and plonked her down on the loo, handed her some toilet paper and a tantrum ensued:
“I don’t like you, Dad”
“I am too tired to wipe my bum”
And my favourite, possibly ever:
“I want to sell you, Dad. I am going to sell you at a car boot sale. Because you are too mean. And rude”
She added the last one with an extra huff thrown in for good measure. At that point I thought I should possibly take over, placate her and have a game of good cop, bad cop. I tucked her into bed and scooted her over for a cuddle. We had a chat about how selling people isn’t kind, how hating Daddy isn’t fair, even if he doesn’t make the right kind of porridge* in the morning and how it really is best to wipe your bum after having a poo.
*For those interested, the right kind of porridge is made with approximately two thirds milk, one third water, cinnamon and nutmeg are added, along with sultanas and linseeds. A splash of vanilla extract and a good dollop of golden syrup. Cooked on a low heat so it doesn’t stick to the bottom of the pan, and if it gets too stodgy, add more water. It’s good.