Every morning Roo and I have a stand off, over getting ready for school. You see, like most four year olds, she is easily distracted. I’ll ask her to go upstairs and put her cardigan on, and go up, ten minutes later, only to find her immersed in a playing with her doll’s house, or her Barbie dolls – her cardigan where it was left the night before, and very definitely not on her body.
This morning, our stand off is about her school shoes. To be able to get on with my morning routine of breakfast, shower, packed lunch assembly, etc, and get us all out of the door by 8:30, I quite often let the children watch a bit of TV. It’s twenty-seven minutes past eight, and Roo is parked on the sofa. Her shoes are on the floor next to her. Her coat is hanging on the banister. Elliot is in his buggy, ready to go. I am buttoning up my coat, and pulling my hat on.
“Roo, please put your shoes on, we have to go”
Silence. She has glue ear, and is having a spell of mild hearing loss at the moment, and so when she ignores me, I give her the benefit of the doubt. I switch off the TV, and make eye contact. She’s visibly irritated that I have put a stop to her Peppa Pig (My GOD I loathe that porky little oink) viewing.
“Roo, please put on your shoes, they are on the floor there”
She rolls her eyes at me. I let it go.
“Roo. Shoes. Now”
I turn to walk out of the living room.
“Toe rag” she mutters, under her breath, but loud enough for me to hear.
Yes. My daughter called me a toe rag. And to my shame, I know exactly where she got it (me).
Amusing as it was (and believe me, it really was, I had to bite the inside of my cheeks to stop myself from bursting out laughing) I really must learn to moderate my language around that child.