Yesterday Pudding had a make-up swimming lesson as he was sick for last weeks lesson. I was still in bed with mastitis so I didn’t go. Pudding refused to get in the pool. It wasn’t his usual swimming teacher and I think that freaked him out a bit, plus, he didn’t want to. Beefcake got really annoyed though because this stupid effing swimming teacher woman told him that he had to force Pudding to go in the water because “You can’t just let her have what she wants”. When Beefcake told her that, no, he wouldn’t force Pudding to go in the water if he didn’t want to, the annoying woman said “well you have to make her think it’s your idea”
WTF??! He’s three!
Don’t get me wrong, we don’t enjoy paying for swimming lessons that don’t get used, but will he be more positively disposed towards swimming if we force him kicking and screaming into the water? Aaahh, no.
On top of that, the other problem was of course that the woman insisted that Pudding was a girl and kept using female pronouns to refer to Pudding despite being repeatedly corrected. This pissed Beefcake off mightily. Pudding does get referred to as a girl fairly frequently. Apparently when he was tantying in the supermarket after the pool a couple next to Beefcake at the checkout were trying to decide his gender quite loudly.
It does annoy me a bit too. It’s not that we have a problem with him being called a girl (although sometimes it annoys Pudding) it’s that people automatically assume a child with long hair is a girl and seem to want to make such a fuss that we could dare to have a long-haired boy. He does have very “pretty” blue eyes though. Actually that’s another of my all time fave comments from strangers about my children: “Oh, it’s a boy, well you couldn’t call him handsome with those eyes. He’s more pretty”. Yes, I think he’s lovely but OMG how annoying can people be.
This is what Pudding looked like before Daddy got fed up with him being called a girl.
Daddy decided that he could do it himself because cutting hair is easy and anyone can do it. Didn’t he do a great job?? Call him Brother Pudding.
Mummy used her phone to send her sister a pic and they both decided maybe it would be better if we put some product in it. Ummmmm, no.
Daddy took Pudding to the hairdresser and held him on his lap while Pudding told the hairdresser he hated her. The hairdresser told him she was making it longer each time she snipped (I think that was lovely of her) and Daddy had to promise junk food. Daddy had to pay $22 to finish ruining the way Mummy’s baby looks, but at least it’s kind of even now.
He looks so big. It’s scary and upsetting. My poor baby. I loved his wild and crazy locks.
My friend has this theory that Pudding’s hair was drawing wild and crazy vibes from the universe and that was what made him so um… vibrant. We’ll see, no change so far though!
On another topic, Rhubarb came to me to say goodnight last night and we had a great conversation. I am such a great parent, we have great open lines of communication. It went like this:
R: Mum, I just cut my toenails.
A: Wow, exciting news.
R: No. Mum, seriously, that’s not what I wanted to tell you.
A: Okay, what is it?
R: Well, I smelled my feet and they smell really salty (ey???) and disgusting, when did my feet start smelling like that?
Gee, that was worth taking seriously. I’m glad we had that conversation. I’m not sure what made Rhubarb think I would be interested, but I was not. I told him it was all part of getting older. He said he hopes his feet don’t end up like Beefcake’s.