How to get your child into the bath

I never thought we’d have difficulties getting Schmoo into the bath – for three years, she’s been the model of decorum when it comes to jumping into the wet stuff of an evening.

Recently, however, she’s started showing a remarkable reticence for getting into the bath. Our latest trick, as you can see on the left, is taking dolly’s clothes off and putting her in as well. Sounds fine, but you should try undoing a doll’s shoes every evening – I have fat fingers!

We’ve even had to resort to putting a toy pig in the bath with her, as well. Let’s hope this phase passes quickly!

Only a girl could say…

I know I shouldn’t be surprised by now, but it does still make me laugh what kids come out with.

Sitting in the bath this evening, Schmoo proudly announced to me: ‘Daddy, I’ve got boobs!’ and put her fingers over her nipples.

Babymama and I laughed hysterically, before BM confirmed that it wasn’t anything she’d taught Schmoo.

Anatomically and biologically correct and very, very funny.

Why are friends so judgmental?

So Schmoo has now been at pre-school for two weeks and the change has been remarkable. I think I mentioned in an earlier post that we’d never put Schmoo in any sort of childcare, so we were, understandably, nervous on how she’d take to being left on her own and in the care of someone completely new.

We needn’t have worried. She’s taken to it like a duck to water and loves school and is always over the moon to be going every morning.

She likes her key worker and is starting to make friends, too. Her best friend (at the moment) seems to be a girl called Chilli-Pepper (I kid you not), and she comes home singing new songs and giving us the barest minimum of the plot of the day’s story.

The thing that’s sweetest for us, though, is how totally natural it seems to her and how it’s added a new facet to her personality.

She’s always been happy and smiley, but now she’s far more likely to talk to strangers (although not too readily) and not hide behind mum or dad’s legs.

And many of our friends and family, initially without saying anything, but lately more vocally have questioned our decision for Schmoo not to experience any form of childcare. The lack of nursery or childminder was seen as a bad idea, because Schmoo used to be so shy and would hide a lot and not want to talk to people.

Our view was always that the first 2-3 years of life are the most precious and, if we could get away without it, why would you put your child in the care of someone else if you don’t have to?

Fortunately it seems as if we have been right to do so. It’s been a revelation to see how different Schmoo is after just two weeks at school, but we’re so glad that we’ve waited as long as we have.

Why are my daughter’s toys so small?

Schmoo loves little things. Give her a massive, chunky toy and she gets bored within seconds.

On the other hand, if you give her a toy kitchen with saucepans smaller than your little fingernail (see pic on left) she’s made up. Ecstatic, over the moon.

This lovely set arrived in the post from Nain (that’s Welsh for granny for those of you don’t know) and, boy, were we peeved. For starters it was encased in parent-proof packaging. It took 15 minutes to extricate this lot from the ties and plastic.

And then of course, once Schmoo started playing with it, she kept losing bits of it. We plonk it all in an old plastic takeaway carton at night, but it doesn’t stay there during the day.

The number of small things that are never allowed to be thrown away is staggering. They remain in Schmoo’s memory and also at the bottom of her toy crate, destined to be remembered every month or so and asked for.

It’s not enough to go, ‘I can’t find it,’ because she insists it must be there and you have to keep searching and searching until, lo and behold, the pointless piece of plastic mysteriously reveals itself.

Give it another week or so and the obsession (more on them another time) with the kitchen will fade and we’ll be onto something else equally as small and easy to lose. Groan!