I Want Your Eyes

You know when you become a parent and straight away people start telling you how wonderful them being babies are and how you need to cherish every moment, because they grow up fast and when they hit two their whole personality changes?

Yeah, that piece of information is kind of important and you should listen.

When Doodlesaurus reached two I was so relieved, she did not change a single bit. People had told me that it happens over night. I won’t lie, I was a little bit smug thinking, ‘ha, ha, ha, my daughter is different, she’s not turned into this evil incarnation of herself.’ She is two and a half now and my smugness only lasted four months because not long ago, she woke up one day and had become the stuff of nightmares.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love this little devil with all of my heart and she is, for the most part, a delightful, caring and compassionate little girl. She is funny, intelligent and inquisitive. She is also ripe for the picking when they make the next Grudge movie and need a new child star, she wont need any training!

I am actually torn today with what to share with you, do I talk about the tantrums that have no basis in reality? The concerning comments akin to a serial killer? Perhaps I should go down the route of the general creepiness my daughter exhibits at times? Let’s take the serial killer route, the documentaries are currently all the rage and Doodlesaurus’s most recent exploits are along this route.

I woke up, as usual roughly half an hour before the little one and sat on the sofa with my energy drink waiting for her sweet little ‘Mummy, where are you?’

Doodlesaurus comes running in, happy as can be, big smile on her face and jumps on my lap.

Lovely start to the day…

Cuddles, smiles and I love yous. Then it happens.

My little ray of sometimes sunshine, turns to me, looks me dead in the eyes, smiles, takes her hands and gently places one either side of my face and says…

“Mummy, I want your eyes!”

Erm, excuse me, what the hell did you just say? “Pardon darling?”

“Mummy, I want your eyes!”

My eyes? Who says that? Why would she say that? Where is this going? “My eyes?”

“Yes!” with a vigorous nod and a wide beaming smile.

Serial killer? Cannibal? Collector or strange and disgusting items? “Why’s that then?”

“Soooo pretty!”

Take it as a compliment, thank her, move on, maybe she’ll grow out of it and not start asking for spoons or sporks for her birthdays and Christmas.

That was in the morning. We then went out for a birthday party and a spot of shopping. Doodle is in the pushchair, it’s baltic out there so hats, gloves, big massive coat and a blanket. I’m retucking the blanket around said child, (they never stay on, it’s like during Winter a mother’s job is just difficult enough trying to get anywhere as the bastard blanket repeatedly slips off and goes under the wheels, through the wheels, in puddles and who knows what else!)

So, I am tucking her in and chatting, she turns to me again, (looking slightly up, her eyes at the top looking through some strands of hair, the wind blowing)…

“Mummy, take my legs off!”

“Sorry sweetheart?”

“Take my legs off please!”

Take her legs, off? Maybe she means boots? “Oh it’s too cold to take your boots off, we’re going to the shop.”

“No Mummy! Take my legs off! Please!”

I wont go into the various ways in which I tried to discover if she in fact meant something else. As it turns out she didn’t. She wasn’t in pain, she just decided that she no longer wanted her legs!

My friend turns to Doodlesaurus and says “You want your legs off Doodle? Well, then you’ll be crawling around on your hands and knees!”

That is where I shall leave it.

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