My children are becoming very clever. They often speak to me like I’m a total moron who needs to be told things very slowly and very carefully. They often say things to me in a manner more befitting a teenager. They are 2 and 4 years old. I’m sure this is normal behaviour.
Tilly has lept right off the ‘meek-and-mild-second-child’ bridge into the sea of ‘I-must-assert-myself-at-every-possible-opportunity’. It makes our house rather loud at times.
This afternoon him indoors was trying to light a fire (at home in the fireplace, he is not actually an arsonist) and clearly the ‘help’ he was getting from the girls was proving challenging. I was duly called to distract them. I was in the middle of cooking supper.
“Eliza & Tilly, come here please I need your help.”
Up rocked Tilly. She’s very helpful.
“Yes Mummy, what do you want?“
“Well I need some things mixing please Tilly, can you get Eliza as well?”
I heard her run back, tell Eliza the exciting news and then I heard two pairs of little feet run back to me in the kitchen.
“We’re here Mum!” Tilly said, Eliza behind her not quite sure if mixing something was more or less exciting than helping Daddy build a fire, but thought she’d weigh up her options.
“Great.” At this point I still wasn’t sure what on earth they were going to mix. Until I spied a half empty (or half full, depending on your outlook on life) tub of meringues – the little ones from Tesco that have absolutely no flavour and are like polystyrene.
“Right well I need you to make pudding. Here, you need to crush up these meringues.”
This seemed to beat the fire building so they climbed onto the stools and I gave them both meringues, spoons and bowls and the crushing began. Well Eliza started crushing, naturally Tilly started eating them. Smart girl.
“We’re done Mum.” Eliza announced about 5 minutes later. Very efficient these sous chefs.
“Ok, now you need to add the, er, the…ermm….oh yes the marscapone cheese.” Handily I had half a pot in the fridge. You never know when you’ll need it (clearly I am always prepared to whip up a tasty pudding when I’m not ironing, cleaning or some other housewifely duty).
So anyway they stirred that together and chucked in a kiwi for good measure (I know, we’re very exotic here, no bananas for us), at which point their Dad came in.
“Oooh that looks nice.” Finger poised to taste it.
“We crushing up maracas Daddy and Kiwis!” said Tilly with excitement and a mouthful of ‘maracas’. She offered him a half eaten one. He felt obliged.
“And mixing in Pony cheese.” said Eliza with concentration as she mixed in the pony cheese (hooves not withstanding).
“Sounds lovely, is it Eton Mess?” said him indoors.
“No Daddy!” Said Tilly with indignation and the tone of talking to complete idiot, “we are NOT making a mess! We’re making pudding!”
He was duly put in his place and went back to his fire, which is still burning now and keeping me very warm on a chilly night with snow falling outside.