… and when he was bad he was horrid

You know, from the minute we knew we were pregnant for the fourth time, Grover has been throwing me the proverbial curve ball. Much of the time it is not him per se but the mere cold hard reality of four children. It’s a hell of a lot more than three. Who knew!

But then there are days when it is Grover who is the curve ball. Now before you all get uppity at me (not that any of you ever get uppity with me except when I do things like sort lego by colour) I know it is largely an age thing but having had one child who nearly broke me many times over through the screaming and not sleeping and stubbornness and belligerence and oh my GOD STOP SCREAMING  Felix was/is very challenging energy/draining hugely/rewarding (totally dependent on the day minute way you look at him) and knowing this child seems largely cut from the same cloth my shoulders can’t help but have days of slumpage.

On Sunday, this child of mine engaged in the following pursuits:
– stole his brother’s breakfast, took off with it to the bathroom, locked himself in the bathroom and ate it all.
– insisted on trying out new shoes by walking around outside the shop on the dirty rough ground as opposed to the soft carpeted space in the shop
– screamed. A lot.
– announced in a department store that a wee was coming then walked into the womens change room in what was clearly a physical display that the arrival was imminent.
– got into the tubes of paint and bottle of fluid that make the paints suitable for application to fabric and proceeded to paint the outside of the house and the pathway. (I was at the shops at this stage. The third trip to purchase things for the bigger boys to take to camp, this time the final hope for finding shorts. No one has shorts in store any more. I mean, it’s only MARCH FOR GOD’S SAKE. WHERE HAVE ALL THE SHORTS GONE???)
– screamed. A lot.
– Left Bobo (his soft toy that is a necessary requirement to lessen the amount of screaming AND to go to bed) at the shop where we were trying on shoes that he kept running away wearing. This was, of course, not realised until during one of the later screaming sessions and driven home at bedtime.

– tipped the box we use to transport guinea pigs out all over the floor. Which means hay, guinea pig poo, food and other detritus were spread from here to kingdom come. 
– Opened my new toothbrush and painted the bathroom floor with toothpaste with it (although I’m not convinced it was a painting exercise but just many failed attempts to get the toothpaste on the toothbrush) 
– screamed some more
– had a monumental fuss about going to bed which culminated in him smashing Chef’s bedside light. I would have mustered up even more outrage had a) I not been so broken in spirit by his behaviour all day b)the lamp come from somewhere more exclusive than Ikea and c) had I not broken my matching bedside lamp a few weeks ago in a bizarre fit of cleaning.
– finally fell asleep half on his bed half off it at around 9.30pm

– screamed ‘no, GO AWAY’ in his sleep about an hour later only to then come and collapse asleep in our bed
– did a wee in our bed

This kid, this kid that did all of that in one day, but then has a day like yesterday and today when he is just totally endearing. Motoring around telling funny little stories, running off to the toilet then coming back for help to put his pants back on saying each and every time, ‘did a wee mum, on the pot, good job, high five’.

Ahhh two and a half. Can’t wait to see the back of you.