The Big Talk

Recently, BallFiend has become increasingly curious about bodies, specifically his and his peers (as is completely normal for his age). He wants to see how bodies are anatomically the same or different and to know all about they function.

A few weeks ago, when BallFiend had a friend was over for a play, things went a step further, beyond looking to touching. Just slightly freaked out, I decided I had to be a bit more proactive about educating him. I rang Parentline for some advice and, amongst other things, they recommended Talk Soon. Talk Often. A guide for parents talking to their kids about sex (published by the Department of Health in Western Australia) and a book Everybody's got a bottom by Tess Rowley.

Over the next few weeks, we had a few conversations about touching being OK if he does it to himself, but not OK if he is touching someone else. And I continued to answer many questions about bodies. At the library, when I went to pick up Everybody's got a bottom, I also found "So That's where I came from" by Gina Dawson.

Both books proved to be great hits with BallFiend. He absolutely loved "Everybody's got a bottom" - mainly the page where the two-year old sister has a nudie-run (sound familiar Thumper?). Initially I had thought that So That's where I came from would be too advanced for him as it is quite detailed. But he insisted that we read it. So I sat down and did as I was told. I didn't read it word for word, as a lot of the wording was too advanced. I paraphrased it and we talked about the pictures, which worked really well.

I have to say, despite perceiving myself as being quite open about sex, it was still a bit scary doing "The Talk" - and I mean the whole thing from start to end, not just bits and pieces in response to specific questions. But now that it's done, I have realised that BallFiend is a good age for it. He really does seem to only think about it in quite 'scientific' terms. It's not icky or weird or strange... yet.

I realise we are going to have to do The Talk many more times, but now that I have done it once, I know it will be easier to do again. And after reading Mummy how are babies made? in The Age today, I am now feeling really glad that BallFiend already has the basics at age 5, so I don't end up explaining it for the first time over dinner at a restaurant. (Although, no doubt, I will end up answering many other more-embarassing questions instead. Just hopefully nothing like the situation Catherine Deveny describes in her book Free to a Good Home where she tells of her son asking her at the family dinner table if she masturbates (p.155 if you want to read it for yourself! It's very funny reading that will make you squirm).

Postscript: 
One thing that I have become increasingly annoyed about when trying to find suitable books/resources on the topic for BallFiend is the lack of things suitable for pre-school aged kids. This is in fact exactly why Everybody's got a bottom was published. But so far I haven't found anything else that is both age appropriate. (So That's where I came from is really aimed at kids aged about 9 years or older.) There are plently of non-fiction books for young kids that explain how human bodies work, usually structured with a page per body system. They happily explain respiration, circulation, digestion, skin, senses, bones, muscles and even the urinary system, but not a single one has a page on the reproductive system. This contradicts the advice given in resources like Talk soon. Talk often. which recommends that parents normalise genitals by talking about them as just another part of the body.
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Nobody's knocking

In the midst of another round of joke-telling (at BallFiend's insistence), I came up with this one. It was completely spontaneous: I didn't think it up before telling it... the words just poured out of my mouth:

"Knock Knock. Who's There? Nobody. That's why I'm telling this joke myself."

DeepSpice and BallFiend both loved it. I have to admit that I even made myself laugh!
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Who's there?

Several times over the past week...

BallFiend: Knock Knock
DeepSpice/Me: Who's there?
BF: Boo!
DS/Me: Boo who?
BF: Don't cry, there's nothing to cry about.

Then today...

Thumper: Knock knock. Don't cry. Knock knock. What are you crying about? Don't cry. Knock knock. Don't cry about it.

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Can we fix it? Probably.

Thumper: Barb the boolder, can we fix it? Barb the boolder yes we can, no we can't.

BallFiend: Thumper, it's Bob the builder.

Thumper: Barb the boolder, can we fix it? Barb the boolder yes we can, no we can't.

BallFiend: Thumper, sing "Bob the builder"!

Thumper: Barb the boolder we can fix it.

BallFiend: No, sing "Bob. The. Builder."

Thumper: Barb the boolder no we can't.

BallFiend: Thumper!! Say "Bob".

Thumper: Bob.

BallFiend: Now sing "the"

Thumper: Boolder

BallFiend: No! Say "the"

Thumper: The.

BallFiend: Builder. Yes we can.

Thumper: No we can't.

BallFiend: No! It's "yes we can"!

Thumper:  Bob the builder, yes we can.

Both kids then continued to sing together... sort of.

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To state the obvious...

Thumper: "Miki makya bog!"
DeepSpice: "Miki makya bog?"
Thumper: "I'm playing a silly game, not talking to you!"
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Surprise delivery

Thumper, for the record: at ripe of age 2 years, 4 months, and 10 days, you did your first (proper) poo in the potty.

You were playing around out the back (having a quick 'nudie run' before bedtime), busily clipping pegs onto the side of the peg basket, when you suddenly called out saying you had a wee. So I called out to DeepSpice to get the potty! You sat on it for a few seconds and then stood up. "A wee, a wee!" you proudly declared, showing me the empty potty. I duly congratulated you for your efforts and went back to cleaning up after dinner.

About 5 minutes later, you called out again, so DeepSpice went to see what was up. "A wee on my bike" you helpfully informed him. So after your little ride-on toy was cleaned up, we again left you playing happily outside.

Ten minutes later and we were once again summoned - this time you were carrying your potty to the back door. "A poo! A poo in the potty!" I have to admit that I was skeptical. But sure enough, this time, you had delivered - there was indeed a poo in the potty. My first concern was where else there might be poo. But thankfully your feet were clean and that meant the surrounding area was (most likely) clear too.

Just between you and me, at this point in time, I am so completely over nappies and I can't wait till you no longer need them. So congratulations and keep up the good work!
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Opposable thumbs

BallFiend has done important research today and has established that the Octonauts could in fact play mini golf, on account of them having opposable thumbs but could not hold a marble between their fingers, on account of all their fingers being joined into one.

The back story: BallFiend decided this morning that the Octonauts are coming to visit us today, but when they hadn't arrived by 10 am, he went out to check the letterbox as he had decided they must have sent him a letter. By lunchtime, he had decided the Octonauts will be coming to his birthday party (which will be a mini-golf party), but when I questioned their ability to hold a mini golf club, he got out the Octonauts DVD to check their picture.

I also found out that Captain Barnacles is his favourite Octonaut because 'he is in charge'. Make of that what you will.
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Cushion-y protection

BallFiend, sitting on the couch, building a cushion-fort around himself: "I need to put these here so hands can't get in and tickle my toes."

(Thanks to DeepSpice for noting this down while I was at work.)
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Really?

"Dad, you're being sarcasm."

-- BallFiend

Secret birthday business

Having just emerged from the post-celebration haze of DeepSpice's birthday week, I am now taking a moment recount the events of the past week...

DeepSpice celebrated his personal new year in early January. Typically, it is a very inconvenient time to have a birthday since:
a) I am always too exhausted after all the xmas shopping to be organised enough to get him a birthday present;
b) any plans of taking him out to a fancy restuarant are thwarted by the fact that just about everything is closed during early January; and
c) it is usually so bloody hot, all either of us can manage to do is lie around in front of a fan with a wet cloth on our foreheads, while eating mangoes.

But this year, several weeks before xmas, I had already acquired DeepSpice's birthday present (a scarf), arranged babysitting with Gran and GrandPaul for Saturday night and, as luck would have it, the weather turned out to be mild throughout the entire week surrounding DeepSpice's birthday.

Cheese!

So on the night of his actual birthday, I held a fondue party, straight out of the 1970s fondue pot that had belonged to my parents. (Highly appropriate since DeepSpice is a child of the 70s!)

DeepSpice demonstrates sword-swallowing during his Cheese-Fondue birthday dinner.

I consulted with VolubleK, conveniently now a fondue expert since her move to France, and on her advice selected a good white wine (since apparently red wine and cheese fondue are not a good mix):  a 2001 Rosevears Estate Sauvignon Blanc (which had matured nicely in our cellar since our trip to Tassie back in around 2002 or 2003). Fresh ciabatta from the Mediterranean Wholesalers and Gruyere cheese from the local deli, plus an assortment of other items to dip into melted cheese sauce rounded out the meal and we (DeepSpice, me, Gran, GrandPaul, BallFiend and Thumper) all ate ourselves to oblivion. The hardest part of the whole event was shopping for the supplies with two small children underfoot. As I commented on Facebook:

"The worst of it when I was at the deli, busy talking to the deli-girl about what I wanted to buy. BallFiend gave the trolley (which contained Thumper) a shove, straight towards the shelf stacked with eggs. The only thing between the trolley and a scrambled-egg disaster was a pensioner on a walking frame."

Trifle!

Then, instead of a birthday cake, DeepSpice got a trifle, partly because I know how much he loves them (whereas I can't stand them! Whoever thought of mixing jelly and custard? Urgh!) and partly because I had cake crumbs to use up (a result of my dropping a lemon sour cream cake I had made a few days earlier for the new year's eve party at RedJo's house). Unfortunately my first ever attempt at trifle-making did not equal my first-ever attempt at cheese fondue making. The cake was a bit dry, the jelly didn't quite set properly and the custard was too runny. But DeepSpice, Gran and GrandPaul were polite enough to eat a bit anyway.

Surprise!

On the weekend after DeepSpice's actual birthday, I successfully pulled off the big surprise (despite GrandPaul nearly giving too much away a few days before): a night away on Mt Dandenong at a Sassafrass B&B, with dinner at a local restaurant, most importantly, sans-kids! In the weeks leading up to his birthday, I had asked DeepSpice what he wanted to do and he had suggested a picnic at the Melbourne botanical gardens. So instead, I took him to William Ricketts Sanctuary and the Alfred Nicholas Memorial Gardens. I had plans to fit in at least one more garden, but a very rainy Sunday morning saw us stay in and enjoy a long and leisurely delicious breakfast instead.

Scones!

We finished off our weekend away with devonshire tea in Olinda (which was overpriced, and came with very average service, but the surroundings were lovely and peaceful) and returned home to collect our little darlings.

Sleep-over!


Thumper fared well on her first-ever night away from both DeepSpice and I. And of course BallFiend loved his 'holiday' with Gran and GrandPaul. Unfortunately, Gran and GrandPaul didn't fare so well, both having taken their child-caring responsibities extremely seriously meant they got very little sleep overnight. But they still functioned well enough to bake a chocolate cake, even with the help of two kids...!


Now that birthday celebrations are done with for this year, I will have to start planning for next year. And even more importantly for the big 4-0 in two years time, when DeepSpice and I will be visiting VolubleK and family in France, perhaps for an authentic French fondue. Yum!
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Overheard...

"Hello man, yes man. I'm going to Zumba, man. I'm going shopping. Hello Gran, I'm going to Zumba, see you later. Bye. I love you. Hello Gran. I'm going shopping - you want some milk?

- Thumper, on the car phone.

Don't interrupt: toddler at work

"Stop 'terrupting me!"
- Thumper, whenever she's not getting her own way.

NYE 2011

Ever since BallFiend came on the scene, my night-time social life has been somewhat curtailed. (Actually, I can't really blame BallFiend... I'd stopped being a party animal soon after I finished uni and got a full time job). Anyway, I can't actually remember the last time I went to a New Year's Eve party. That might be because I had such a good time. But more likely it is because it was so long ago. 

So I was very exciting to receive an invitation from RedJo and CT:

Hi Everyone,

To save (us) finding a babysitter, We are going to have a NYE party at our place this year. We'll start with a kid-friendly BBQ and red cordial at say 5 or 6, then put progressively more exotic animals on the BBQ and less water in the cordial until we all fall over.

Hope you can come!

CT and RedJo 

The party was heaps of fun... just like those all-nighters we used to do when I was in my teens and 20s, except:
a) the grog was soooooo much better quality,
b) we had proper (and yummy!) food, not just packets of Twisties, and
c) we had to leave by 12.15 pm with our very over-tired children (but I was super-impressed that they managed to stay awake until midnight! By 10.30 pm, Thumper was walking like she was drunk.)

Once home, I became a whirlwind of activity and had the kids into PJs, teeth brushed and into bed within 10 minutes! I have never done this before, even when completely sober, so I have no idea how it happened this time.  Even more amazing: I achieved it all on my own, with no help from DeepSpice (who, he told me later, was simply looking on in amazement and trying to stay out of my way).

It was a fantastic way to usher in the new year, and 2012 could have only got better if Thumper hadn't decided to wake us up at 6.45 am.

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