Friday, January 20, 2012

Some Stern Bedtime Parenting and An Unfortunate Decomposing Lizard

Ivy has been upping the ante on bedtime shenanigans lately. The last three nights she has found reason after reason to emerge from her room and beg for time off her sleeping sentence. There's been a lot of 'I'm hot', some 'I'm hungry' and one heartfelt 'you need to understand, I'm just not up for it.'

Two nights she has pulled 'My eardrum hurts.' Now, Ivy is a seasoned theatrical actress. It's not her first time around the boards. She's been honing her craft since her early pre-verbal head-banging performances. By age five, she has developed a subtle style. Both Keith and I have fallen for the sickness at dinner-time ploy (and once memorably, refused to be fooled. 'Nope!' I insisted one night. 'Your tummy does not hurt! You will sit there until you finish your vegetables!' Sit there she did. Until she vomited with the beginnings of a gastro bug.)

You cannot sneakily pass a quick hand over Ivy's forehead to check for fever. She clocks it. And she knows, then, that she has found a chink in your armour. I went along with possible-ear-infection for a while but I knew Ivy was acting when she forgot which ear was hurting. 'Wasn't it the other ear before?' I asked as she held a cold washer to her face. 'It's....moving!' she said quickly. 'I think it's moving around.'

Teddy had been quietly watching this medical drama unfold. 'My regg!' he suddenly wailed. 'My regg is hurting!' Ivy looked at him with horror and then back at me. 'That's not real!' she shouted. 'It's not even real!' Ah yes, I thought. The day has come for the student to betray the teacher.

'My regg!' Teddy moaned, waving both legs in the air.

'That's it from both of you,' I said. 'No more banana work. Go to sleep.'

Last night, Ivy didn't go near the ears. Instead, she complained about the smell in her room. I went in to check. 'Oh, it's fine', I told her. But it did actually stink. 'Go to sleep.'

I went out to ask Keith if he'd noticed a smell in the kids room.

'What does it smell like?' he asked. I thought about it. 'Sort of like a cross between Dencorub and shit,' I said. 'Well, I did put Dencorub on Ivy's foot earlier...' he said. 'So it's just shit then,' we agreed. And we laughed. Like the evil parents we are.

The crying continued. 'It really stinks!' Ivy sobbed. ' I can't sleep in this smell!' Both Keith and I went in and turned the light on. We inspected the room but there was no obvious stains. We questioned Teddy but he denied poo crime.

'I think it's my foot,' she whimpered. Keith smelt her feet. 'Well, Ivy,' he said - always the meticulous scientist - 'you seem to have a small amount of foot odour but that's not the big stink.' I laughed. I couldn't help it. Poor Ivy was infuriated. Eventually she went off to sleep. This morning Keith found a rotting lizard in a bucket outside her bedroom window.

Ms McIntosh, this is your fifteen year call. Ms McIntosh, the Oscars stage in fifteen years.

9 comments:

  1. SUCH A LAUGH! Thanks for that. Kellie xx

    ReplyDelete
  2. I've just come back to tell you that I've laughed out loud, on my own, three times thinking about this today. And when I told Shane the story, we laughed so hard we cried. Bloody bloody funny. Kellie xx PS Shane did wonder about the dencorub on the foot though???

    ReplyDelete
  3. Pleasure to be of service Kell...I laugh too every time I think of the horror on Ivy's face when Teddy ruined the subtlety of her carefully constructed sick-scene with his vaudevillian stylings. Re Doncorub, who knows? Ivy loves Doncorub. She probably told Keith sher had a broken ankle.

    ReplyDelete
  4. hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Chris)

    ReplyDelete
  5. I'm trying very hard not to wake Rosie with laughter as I'm reading this on my phone. I just texted Chris - in the other room - to tell him to read this post and I can hear him snorting and giggling. Bloody unreal Rach. It's just written too well to even comment accordingly. x

    ReplyDelete
  6. O yes. The theatre of bed time... I know it all too well.

    ReplyDelete
  7. And that is one stench I am yet to smell myself...thankfully!

    ReplyDelete
  8. LOL! I think my fave line is 'you need to understand, I'm just not up for it'! Thanks for Rewinding.

    ReplyDelete

Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.