Funny five minutes?

When I was younger and rowed with my Mum or simply hated the world so was crying, if my younger brother and sister approached me, I would always say I was having a 'funny five minutes'.

My funny five minutes probably ended up being a funny five years, but that's teenagers for you.

Isobel seems to be having her own funny five minutes at the moment.

At nursery I am no longer dismissed with a cheery wave, a 'bye' and a lovingly blown goodbye kiss. She no longer stands at the door to great her playmates with a 'hiya'. Nope instead she is to found clinging to the neck of her obviously lovely mummy. I have to hand her over to a carer for a cuddle, beat a hasty retreat (before I too cry) and pear through the window to make sure I have happily been replaced by toast.

Bath time is not a playful affair. Isobel happily climbs the stairs and once in the bathroom will present me with gifts from every corner, she will merrily wee on the bathroom floor and reach for the loo roll to mop it up. But put he in the bath and she shouts, clinging to the side for dear life she even attempts to climb out. Me, I wash her and her luscious locks as quickly as I can before snuggling her up in her towel like the precious little baby she is.

If I get in the bath too, of course everything is fine. But I like to bath with a glass of wine and not be in my pyjamas by 6:30.

So, is this just a funny five minutes or is it really going to last for five years?!

No tiaras

But plenty of tantrums. Maybe you only get a tiara when they are of Elton John proportions.


A few weeks ago I was thanking the world for my sweet natured little girl, adding the word 'yet' to the end of any sentences discussing the tantrums of little girls nursery friends.


As in 'We haven't had that YET.' I thought by adding the 'yet' I could perhaps ward of the inevitable.


Nope. I have now experienced tantrums, believe me my little girl has a touch of the drama queen about her (no idea where that came from!), she even produces real tears.


As any plugged in Mum would I have been doing a bit of reading. It's actually quite interesting. It sounds a lot like being a teenager and a little like I feel now: it's all a quest to establish her uniqueness, to work out exactly who she is and where her place is in this world.

Something which is frustrating when you are an allegedly communicative thirty something, but as a fifteen month old little girl who is best at saying 'bye' and 'nana' it's all the more frustrating.

So from the lovely Penelope Leach, who has been around since the seventies (when coffee tables where strewn with ashtrays), I learnt the following things:

• Tantrums are more terrifying for toddlers than their parents

• There is no point telling babes off, they won't remember what the crossness was for


• Being nice, and trying to avoid tantrums is NOT going to spoil your child, it's going to help them feel confident in your love.

So, Isobel can cry and shout and we'll try not to make a big deal out of it, not over loving, but just let it go and move on.

And PRAY that this passes SOON.

*As I write this she is being her usual angel self, sitting next to me 'writing'. I have got over the fact that she can put lids on things, but how has she always known how to hold a pen? Oh, and she trys out her left and right hand