I love the different phases toddlers go through. Where once Postman Pat was in his every thought and he simply couldn't get through the morning without his fix from Greendale, now Zingzillas are the big favourite (shame, I miss Pat). His love of books, once voracious and all-consuming, has dwindled too replaced with an obsession with music and musical instruments. Trumpets, bassoons, timpani, you name it, he knows it. My son can spend a good twenty minutes happily marching around playing a clothes peg like a tiny flute, loudly tooting away and holding it in the right position and everything.
The latest craze is hide and seek and I'm not talking the simple delights of peekaboo (which still gets a good laugh after all this time), this is full-on hiding objects, useful everyday objects, wherever he can snaffle them away.
After a day of play and with the little man tucked up in bed, probably dreaming about Zingzillas, I always carry out a fast and efficient sweep of the living room, clearing away kiddy things and transforming it into a grown ups-only haven for the evening. His daddy and I take great pleasure in heaving aside the footstool and reaching far under the sofa to see what treasures have been secreted away. If we want to turn on the telly, we don't reach over to the coffee table for the remote, we go on all fours and retrieve it from under the armchair.
Yesterday, while the little man was busy pretending to play the oboe with a plastic clip I usually use for keeping opened bags of nuts and whatnot fresh, I made the mistake of lying flat on the carpet next to him, just for a quick rest (these little ones can be tiring you know). Before I knew it, I felt a little hand gently pushing a rather hard and uncomfortable object in the small gap between my back and the floor. Pretty soon, I was providing a pretty effective hiding place for one plastic clip, a couple of small wooden shapes and the stereo remote control.
Since becoming a mum, I have been many things - an expert nappy changer, the only comfort for a grazed knee, a substitute horsey for riding around on, and now it seems I am the perfect hiding place. Serves me right for lying down on the job.
Must go, got a pile of wet washing that needs sorting. Now, where are all my clothes pegs?