Screecher Creature No. 3 has gone off the rails. There’s no controlling him. He is fast approaching two and a half years old and afraid of no-one. Before it is put to me, no, the others were not like this. They were not. This child is in a class all of his own. No-one else has a child like him.
I used to joke when he was really little and tell him to stop looking at his older brothers. Stop looking and learning I used to say. Too late I am a feared. He loves nothing more than a good colouring session on the walls. Chests of drawers can be emptied and the contents flung to the four corners of the room in the blink of an eye. If there is anything within his reach that can be thrown, it will be thrown. I’ve lost count of the times something has made contact with the back of my head when I am driving. Yesterday, he broke Mister Husband who was forced to pull over on the side of the road when an IFO (Identified Flying Object) sailed past his left ear. Namely a small, brown leather shoe. The offending child got a bollicking from his daddy but matters aren’t helped much when there is a 6 year old in the mix who is particularly good at encouraging his younger hardy buck. Not that he needs egging on but he seems to feed off it nonetheless.
He loves an audience.
His latest delight is to scream as loudly as he can when I’m driving the car. This has the power to cut through me like a hot knife through butter.
I can just about tolerate high jinks and rambunctiousness but draw the line when I get kicked in the shins after I correct him. He has a penchant for spitting which is never tolerated but at the same time, isn’t showing any signs of stopping anytime soon.
Today he unstrapped the baby in his rock-a-tot. I heard a surprised and startled cry mixed in with a thunk. Screecher Creature No. 4 was face down on the floor where he had been unceremoniously thrown from his seat. “Don’t care-ah” was the offenders cocky reaction to my distress.
The other night Mister Husband told me he was going to be late home. Words such as these have the power to strike fear in my heart. It’s hard enough trying to get the baby settled when Mister Husband is here but to leave the sitting room and kitchen at the mercy of the three older boys, is just asking for too mucho trouble. I decided I would lock the sitting room door from the outside so they would not have access to either room and I put them in their bedroom with a firm instruction to stay there. Sometimes small miracles happen and 15 minutes later they were still within. I took advantage and crept up to the sitting room. The door wouldn’t open. It was well and truly locked. Crap!!! Naturally enough, the Screecher Creatures sensed drama and they emerged en masse from their room. Forty minutes later I had the handle off and was pouring liquid soap into the lock in an effort to loosen it up. No joy. Mister Husband arrived home and got no good of the lock either. Bob the Builder. Handy Manny. Mister Husband the Carpenter. As Ray D’Arcy says, spot the odd one out and you will win for yourself, an odd one out hoodie.
He had to call in the cavalry who showed up with a saw! After a good two hours of Mister Husband and me scratching our heads, my Daddy had the problem solved in about 5 minutes.
I am not going off topic but have you seen the You Tube clip with the two little boys and a bag of flour? Well, I locked that friggin door on the wrong night. Tonight my Irritable Bould Child got his hands on a large box of Cheerio’s while I was settling the baby for bed. In the time it took Screecher Creature Number 1 to come and rat him out, the boy who looks like butter wouldn’t melt, had himself a most excellent adventure with it. Naturally enough, there was plenty for everyone in the audience and the other two sheep joined in the shenanigans. I’ll be picking those darn “irresistible crunchy O’s” out of the toaster for days to come. My mother in law bought me a fridge magnet last week. It says “We child proofed the house. But they keep getting in.” She hit the nail on the head with that one!