“Dad said, “Wherever you may be, I am the Lord of the Dance Settee, and I’ll need you all, wherever you may be, and I’ll need you all on the Dance Settee.”
So, to make up for taking so long to get another one of these done, I’m going to share some ‘Oscarisms’ with you. There have been more than a few just lately, and it seems unfair to keep them to myself. That first one was from today. It seems likely they are learning about the Easter story at school, I’ve heard a few versions of it in the last few weeks. I asked Oscar why he thought we had eggs for Easter, I wasn’t necessarily expecting him to know about them being symbolic of new life, I half expected him to say, “because chocolate tastes nice.” I wasn’t expecting, “because that’s what Jesus ate at the Last Supper, and then he died, and when he came back to life, he did a big trump and blew the coffin open so that he could escape, and that’s why trumps sometimes smell of eggs.” What do you say to that? This is one of many reasons I’m not a teacher, I would happily let him believe that for the rest of his life, but I suppose he will be told the real story soon enough.
It’s been a very interesting few weeks. When professor Hawking died, Oscar was watching the news on my bed and shouted me to come quick,
“There’s a transformer on TV, I think he’s died.”
I laughed to myself and said, “That’s professor Hawking, he was a very clever scientist.”
Oscar thought for a bit and said, “Do you think he knew Optimus Prime?”
Oscar’s electric toothbrush ran out this week, so we went to get a new one, but I had to get him a plain old manual one, his reaction – “What? You mean I have to actually do it myself?” that’s a level of laziness that can’t be taught. I’m not sure I’ve ever been prouder of him to be honest.
Oscar has struggled a bit with his handwriting, and it made me very sad to hear him say, “I’m not very good at writing, mummy.” I don’t believe any child should dismiss their abilities, ever, let alone at 5 years old. So, I told him he just needed a bit more practise. We went to the shop and he got a new Ninja Turtles pen and note pad, with the idea that he would get excited about writing, or drawing, and just get the hang of using pens. His problem is that he has been using both left and right hands for everything, and has only recently decided he’s right handed. This means that the muscles in his hands used for writing, are not as well developed as a child who has had a favoured hand right from the start. It’s nothing we can’t work out, but I know that he won’t want to if he has already given up. (Sometimes, I can be a thoughtful, kind mummy. It’s rare, but it does happen). So, he’s sat drawing in his book, he’s writing me a comic. I’m admiring how he plots the story before he puts pen to paper, and then I hear, “and then Raph bounces the hypnotiser off him, and it goes all the way up to Jesus, and then Jesus dies.” So, look out for that one on the best-seller lists!
Being a mum to a boy is the best thing I ever did, but it’s not without its challenges. I remember sitting downstairs one morning and Oscar coming bounding down shouting, “Look mummy, I can make my willy grow.” There was a similar instance when I was in the bath and he came in to use the toilet. I quickly pulled the shower curtain around me (he doesn’t need the mental scars that come with seeing me naked!) so he could have a tiddle. He weed for a while, then as if deep in thought, he said, “Mum, when boys need wees, their willies get big, look, mine’s got red lines and everything!” I didn’t look, and we had another chat about private parts.
I hope they made you chuckle as much as they did me. I have so many of these, I could easily fill a book. They are the moments that make being a mummy awesome, the moments that are just mine and Oscar’s (and everyone I tell). I’m very lucky that I have such a hilarious little monster as a child. He is a little git though, don’t think I’ve forgotten that! Some days I am driven to tears in the sheer frustration of having a miniature version of myself completely disregarding every-fucking-thing I say. Like now, for instance, bedtime was an hour-and-a-half ago, and he’s still dicking about, right now he’s decided he needs a poo-poo, because apparently, if you call it a ‘poo-poo’, it doesn’t matter that it’s 8:30pm and you’re being a dick. When he finishes that, he’s going to want to find his teddy that he’s ‘lost’. I’m pretty sure he plants it, so he has an excuse to get up, this happens most nights. Then, he won’t be able to sleep without yet another kiss and cuddle. After the kiss and cuddle, he will want a hand-shake. Then, when all else fails, he will play the sympathy card and ask to speak about his dad. His dad doesn’t speak to him anymore, and hasn’t for a couple of years now (long story, far too depressing and infuriating to tell on a light-hearted blog), and the only time he ever brings him up is about 2 hours after he was supposed to be asleep. I always tell him we can talk about his dad in the morning if he still wants to…he never has yet.
And that’s all for now. I promise I will get a proper update done in the next week. 😊