Four is better than three
Four is much easier than three so far. Orlaith has been taking great delight in telling every one she sees ( complete strangers included) that she is FOUR now. She knows she's a Big Girl (although she also takes great delight in being wrapped up in a towel and carried like Baby Orlaith, after her bath.)
The best thing about four so far is that the morning screaming and tantrum fits seem to have finally eased away. The first couple of months of this year were hideous. She didn't want to go to preschool, she wouldn't get dressed, she would spend half an hour to an hour every morning crying and telling me that she hated me, hated her shoes and socks, hated preschool, hated everything. She'd carry on like this all the way down the road, howling and screaming and kicking, and then we'd get to preschool and she'd suddenly snap out of it and be fine.
But the last two weeks, she's been utterly angelic. Easy about getting dressed, happy to have breakfast, put on her shoes and coat and, most delightful of all, she's been riding her bicycle! She looks so grown up, pedalling away down the pavement in front of me. She's so proud of that bicycle, of her helmet and her big honker horn. She chose all of it herself, which I think adds to her pride, and she just looks so puffed up and pleased with herself when we arrive at our destination and she knows she got there largely under her own steam.
Of course, not everyone is so delighted with Orlaith's bicycle riding activities. The Coconut resents it completely. Mostly because she desires Orlaith's bike for herself and she can't have it because her legs are too short!
Every morning we have the same miserable routine of Orlaith scooting off on her bicycle followed by angry wails from Esme of "Emmo by-kell" (Esme's bicycle). She howls the whole way down the road. I gave in the other day and made Orlaith walk while we pushed Esme on her trike. She chanted and chattered happily the whole way there and back, swinging her legs enthusiastically and occasionally swivelling the handlebars.
Poor old Esme, Orlaith abandoned her the other day on her birthday for the first time ever. She had two of her wee friends, Max and Zachary, around for cake and tea. So the big kids disappeared off up to Orlaith's bedroom where they stripped all theblanekts off her bed and hid under them on the rug, and poor old Esme was left, bereft, at the bottom of the stair case. She clung to the bars and howled "WHY? WHHHHYYYYYYYY?" with tears running down her cheeks. She was so sad.
It's weird, also, the last two weeks it's like someone's flipped a switch in Esme's head and all of a sudden she's talking in sentences. Short sentences, not always intelligible or making the most sense, but the attempt to sandwich words together is there. A lot of it is mimicry. She loves to say "Right NOW!" to her toys or to me, copying my tone of voice. She says "Wait there" and "That way". She likes to name all the parts of the body. Every time we read a book featuring an animal (especially cats and bears) she has to point out "Eyes" "toe" "poo" (for the animal's bottom.) If we go up to the bathroom or the kitchen she now says "I tum" or "me too".
They;re both obsessed with animals at the moment, cats, dogs, mice. They desperately want a pet, but we can't get one until we've figured out about other siblings and so forth. We went round to Max's house after preschool the other day and he has a pet cat. Esme followed the bloody thing all over the house, until it figured out that she's too big to fit through the catflap. So then it went out and sat itself on the path just outside the backdoor and she wailed and wailed for about half an hour, trying to call it back in, trying to figure out how she could get at it, totally inconsolable that the "tat" didn't want to be petted by her. Poor baby.
They both now have toy friends. Esme has Batby and Bibby ( a MakkaPakka doll and a teddy bear respectively) and Orlaith has recently adopted a small zebra toy that someone sent for Esme. She has named him Noopy. I suspect Noopy will remain in her affections for a few months and then be abandoned to his fate in the Graveyard of Unloved Toys. Poor thing.
Um, what else? Oh, Orlaith is carrying on her tradition of using large words in slightly inappropriate fashion. We caught her telling Esme that she had "puny little hands and puny little fingers" the other day. She likes to say that she feels jealous of things, when what she means is that something makes her cross. "Don't do that, I am jealous of it, Mumma". She's learned all the words to all the songs from Bagpuss and will regale you with them on request. You're not allowed to join in though unless she specifically invites you to. I get told off with a "Mumma, I have to sing that bit, it's my turn."
Right, well I've about exhausted everything I've got to say at the moment. I'm knackered after taking them into London today. We had a fabulous day though, ended up at Hamleys, which is an amazing toy shop. They had fun playing with all kinds of stuff, including having a ride on soem rocking horses. I was really proud of them because they weren't trying to grab everything off the shelves and when I asked them to come with me to look at other things or when I said it was time to go, there were no tantrums, they just came along nicely.
Anyway, that's enough blethering, I am going to bed.
The best thing about four so far is that the morning screaming and tantrum fits seem to have finally eased away. The first couple of months of this year were hideous. She didn't want to go to preschool, she wouldn't get dressed, she would spend half an hour to an hour every morning crying and telling me that she hated me, hated her shoes and socks, hated preschool, hated everything. She'd carry on like this all the way down the road, howling and screaming and kicking, and then we'd get to preschool and she'd suddenly snap out of it and be fine.
But the last two weeks, she's been utterly angelic. Easy about getting dressed, happy to have breakfast, put on her shoes and coat and, most delightful of all, she's been riding her bicycle! She looks so grown up, pedalling away down the pavement in front of me. She's so proud of that bicycle, of her helmet and her big honker horn. She chose all of it herself, which I think adds to her pride, and she just looks so puffed up and pleased with herself when we arrive at our destination and she knows she got there largely under her own steam.
Of course, not everyone is so delighted with Orlaith's bicycle riding activities. The Coconut resents it completely. Mostly because she desires Orlaith's bike for herself and she can't have it because her legs are too short!
Every morning we have the same miserable routine of Orlaith scooting off on her bicycle followed by angry wails from Esme of "Emmo by-kell" (Esme's bicycle). She howls the whole way down the road. I gave in the other day and made Orlaith walk while we pushed Esme on her trike. She chanted and chattered happily the whole way there and back, swinging her legs enthusiastically and occasionally swivelling the handlebars.
Poor old Esme, Orlaith abandoned her the other day on her birthday for the first time ever. She had two of her wee friends, Max and Zachary, around for cake and tea. So the big kids disappeared off up to Orlaith's bedroom where they stripped all theblanekts off her bed and hid under them on the rug, and poor old Esme was left, bereft, at the bottom of the stair case. She clung to the bars and howled "WHY? WHHHHYYYYYYYY?" with tears running down her cheeks. She was so sad.
It's weird, also, the last two weeks it's like someone's flipped a switch in Esme's head and all of a sudden she's talking in sentences. Short sentences, not always intelligible or making the most sense, but the attempt to sandwich words together is there. A lot of it is mimicry. She loves to say "Right NOW!" to her toys or to me, copying my tone of voice. She says "Wait there" and "That way". She likes to name all the parts of the body. Every time we read a book featuring an animal (especially cats and bears) she has to point out "Eyes" "toe" "poo" (for the animal's bottom.) If we go up to the bathroom or the kitchen she now says "I tum" or "me too".
They;re both obsessed with animals at the moment, cats, dogs, mice. They desperately want a pet, but we can't get one until we've figured out about other siblings and so forth. We went round to Max's house after preschool the other day and he has a pet cat. Esme followed the bloody thing all over the house, until it figured out that she's too big to fit through the catflap. So then it went out and sat itself on the path just outside the backdoor and she wailed and wailed for about half an hour, trying to call it back in, trying to figure out how she could get at it, totally inconsolable that the "tat" didn't want to be petted by her. Poor baby.
They both now have toy friends. Esme has Batby and Bibby ( a MakkaPakka doll and a teddy bear respectively) and Orlaith has recently adopted a small zebra toy that someone sent for Esme. She has named him Noopy. I suspect Noopy will remain in her affections for a few months and then be abandoned to his fate in the Graveyard of Unloved Toys. Poor thing.
Um, what else? Oh, Orlaith is carrying on her tradition of using large words in slightly inappropriate fashion. We caught her telling Esme that she had "puny little hands and puny little fingers" the other day. She likes to say that she feels jealous of things, when what she means is that something makes her cross. "Don't do that, I am jealous of it, Mumma". She's learned all the words to all the songs from Bagpuss and will regale you with them on request. You're not allowed to join in though unless she specifically invites you to. I get told off with a "Mumma, I have to sing that bit, it's my turn."
Right, well I've about exhausted everything I've got to say at the moment. I'm knackered after taking them into London today. We had a fabulous day though, ended up at Hamleys, which is an amazing toy shop. They had fun playing with all kinds of stuff, including having a ride on soem rocking horses. I was really proud of them because they weren't trying to grab everything off the shelves and when I asked them to come with me to look at other things or when I said it was time to go, there were no tantrums, they just came along nicely.
Anyway, that's enough blethering, I am going to bed.