Pudding watched Playschool this morning.
Playschool is good. I don’t mind it really. My kids have all been mesmerised by it. It’s not the first time that Pudding has watched it. Oh no, not by a long shot. I won’t pretend to be the Mummy who never turns on the t.v. just so she can get five minutes of something done. He has watched t.v. before and he’ll do it again. I digress, sorry, had to divest myself of that guilt.
Today on Playschool, they made freshly squeezed fruit juice. How lovely. I happened to be on the phone to my sister while this occurred but I was watching in a detached sort of way as they added a selection of fruit and proceeded to decorate the different juice glasses, with peel and fruit and such, to represent animals. Oh how lovely.
Beefcake was dressing Pudding for we were heading out and he made sure to interrupt my phone call to tell me that Pudding wanted to make juice. I nodded, didn’t really take it in, whatever. Pudding was persistent, however and as we proceeded on our errands, repeatedly reminded us that he wanted to make juice.
Now, this is where it gets weird, Beefcake and I, fully went out of our way to see if we could buy a juicer. We were just about to walk to the checkout of BIG W with one when I pointed out that my low carbyness and his *ahem* Beffcakeyness, really meant that the juicer would not get used. Really, at all. So, we didn’t buy the juicer, but wow, we really suck at the whole saying no thing. We’re going to have to work on it.
Anyway, you can imagine how well Pudding responded, because, you know, he is not going through the most horrendously awful threeishness that has ever been witnessed on Earth, ever, really. He doesn’t like to tanty. He’s calm and rational. He can be reasoned with. He doesn’t want to thrust him hips and thrash about screaming while being strapped into his carseat. He would balk at the thought of screaming at the top of his lungs all the way home and (actually my heart breaks a little bit at this) saying over and over “cuddle me Mummy, cuddle me”. He certainly wouldn’t continue to tanty on the floor of the car upon our arrival at home and then progress to the front door and stay there. Scrteaming. For half an hour. NO.
We’re terrible parents, Beefcake had urgent work to do and sat down at his laptop. I went into the backyard and hung out some washing. From out there it sounded as though he was being maimed, or possibly kidnapped. I was able to retrieve him after a while and we mushed fruit through the food processor then strained it labouriously. How lovely.