But what on earth could be so unfair when you are 2? When you have someone (me) who will do everything for you including wipe your bum and cope with the torture of sleep deprivation not to mention get thrown up on every now and then for good measure.
But it is most definitely sulking that Tilly is doing.
Tonight when I was trying to muster them up the stairs for their bath, I went through the usual drill.
“Right who’s going to be the winner tonight?” this is a largely rhetorical question since we all know it will be Eliza. Tilly doesn’t seem to have cottoned on to this and still thinks she might be in with a shot so gives it her all most nights.
But not tonight.
Tonight she was stubbornly not bothering to take part. I wonder if she’s inherited my attitude of if-i’m-not-going-to-win-what’s-the-sodding-point rather than her father’s exuberant enthusiasm for life which involves putting your all into EVERYTHING just because it’s more fun that way. (I know, weird isn’t he).
She ambled up the stairs, whilst bossy big sis was behind the top stair gate declaring,
“You must say the password.”
Tilly climbed up to the gate and put her bottom lip out and said,
“Don’t want to say the password ‘Iza.”
I’m not sure who was more taken aback, me or Eliza. But Eliza persevered (like her Dad again, I’d have given up).
“Say Banana.”
“No.”
“Say Apple.”
“No.”
“Say Orange.” (Fruit themed passwords tonight clearly.)
“No.”
They had reached an impasse, I thought I’d have to referee when Tilly suddenly said.
“Open sesame!”
“Okay. You can come in.”
And she was allowed through the gate, I followed but had the gate slammed in my face.
I then had two little girls standing there laughing at me.
“Say the password Mummy.”
Oh Jesus, really? I’ve got a headache and I just want to get through bathtime so that you can watch Ben & Holly and drink your milk and I can sit down for 10 glorious minutes. What I said was.
“Banana?”
“No.”
And so it went on….
