When was the last time you said the word “no” out loud? Five minutes ago? Yesterday? Last week?
Browsing: Preschooler Mark
Mark has his nemesis… and now I have mine. It’s like a SM relationship without the kinky stuff people do naked.
I’m clued in on the unforgiving social world of pre-schoolers, a place where “mine!” is the growup equivalent of “fuck you!” and where “you’re mean!” means “oh you bastard!”.
Just like most parenting topics, there is plenty of do-this-not-that advice and a huge gap between theory and practice. You can find me right there, in this gap, waving my arms.
Starbucks betrayed me and cauliflower became a luxury item. Sigh.
According to the French wisdom—built upon centuries of losing wars, drinking wine and having sex—”la vérite sort de la bouche des enfants”.
I’m sending a message of hope to other parents: if your kid is stuck in the baby or toddler phase, don’t worry, they actually do grow up… and become fascinating little human beings!
Mark got a reply from Santa, I just got the letter. So I’m taping a piece of chocolate to it because everybody knows that Santa delivers chocolate.
When I announced I was going to do the Santa letter with Mark, instead of praising my thoughtful mothering skills, Feng shrugged. “What does he understand about Christmas?”
By the look of deep annoyance on his face, I gather that if he had the vocabulary to tell me to go to hell, he would. But he settles for the usual “GO. AWAY.”
Mark is turning three. Please, don’t say “they grow up so fast.” Some days, they don’t grow up fast enough. Trust me.
Most years, the Labour Day long weekend brings cooler temperatures and this familiar shit-Fall-is-coming reminder. Not this year.
If you asked him what we were doing while he was at daycare, his answer back then was straightforward: “Daddy working. Mommy pee-pee.”
I wish the world didn’t assume that French were gastronomic demigods.
We all agree that “C” is for “car”, and “D” is for “dog”, but conventional wisdom is lost again at “E”, which isn’t for “elephant” or “ear” but “egg”.
One minute, I’m saving the world, adding commas and hyphenating compound adjectives, and next thing you know, I’m trying to remember whether the daycare centre’s door opens after typing *1234 or *4321.
Until a few weeks ago, Mark only had a mild case of the famous “terrible twos”. But now, he morphed into Keith Richards at the high of his drug-fueled years.
Kids say weird things at weird times. I find it very entertaining.
Do you think tattoo artist for toddlers could be a new part-time gig?
I can’t afford therapy. Oh, I can already picture the scene… Mark is jumping on a black leather couch, the expensive designer kind, not the latest IKEA model. The shrink, Sigmund, is sitting in a chair.
Three is an odd number. Inevitably, alliances are formed, bribes are offered, protests are fomented and plans to overthrow the authority and seize power are made.
I dash to the kitchen. Quick check here too—sometime she is having her morning cup of coffee here. Nope. All clear. Now I just have to take Mark to the classroom and hopefully, she will be busy
Mark never stops. I’m thinking of lending him to ESL students—your very own human flashcard! Test your vocabulary and get a tantrum if you don’t reply fast enough! Can be switched to Mandarin or French!