Ivy made a terrible discovery today... that if she just lies down in the street, there's nothing I can do. The classic Toddler Goes Limp manouvre. When you're desperately trying to keep a grip on a baby, a handbag and the final shreds of sanity/dignity, picking a sack of potatoes up off the floor is no mean feat. The bandage on my wrist tonight will attest to that.
It took us 40 minutes to make it 2 blocks through town today; what with the rolling on the grass, the pacing of the stairs, the inspecting of the bins and the street-reclining. It was like walking a dog you're not allowed to kick. Miserable, miserable. I finally had to give in and carry them both to the carpark. When we finally made it back to the car, I saw I'd left the back door open and my heart sank. 'If that battery is dead,' I said to Ivy, 'Mummy is going to cry.' Luckily it wasn't. But Ivy chanted 'Mummy's a-donna cry' for the next three hours, as she subtly wore away my will to live.
The drama actually started at 6.30 this morning, when Ivy drove me out of bed with the force of her whinging. Then she spent an hour shouting 'No!' at every suggestion I made....and the day contined in that vein until I finally got her to bed tonight. All day she has begged to watch 'The Lady' - a YouTube video she has developed an obsession with. 'Please, Mummy, play-a lady...on-a puter, please Mummy, please a-lady...' We have to discuss, re-enact and watch it several times a day. Here it is:
As I tried to convince her to eat her dinner with a running commentary of how nice it was, Ivy looked at me with disdain and said 'Blah, blah, blah.' Her final power play took place in my greatest place of solace: the bath, where she laid a turd the size of a small dog. I stand defeated.