Those are my three favourite words at the moment.
I say “favourite” – what I actually mean is “most used”.
Frog’s started moving, you see, opening up a whole world of trouble. After spending the last five months bemoaning the laziness of my child and her refusal to shift, I now realise I should have basked in her lack of mobility while I could.
All those cups of tea I could go off and make while she lay happily under her baby gym, all those solitary toilet trips I could enjoy without having to worry what was going on in the next room.
Visits to the toilet are no longer enjoyable. I now find myself shooting a jet stream down the toilet so fast it could do the job of a pressure hose on a dirty pavement. God knows I haven’t got time to meander anymore.
The thing is, we’ve decided not to “baby proof”. I know, I know, shoot me now. Instead, we’re going by the “let her find out for herself that it really isn’t that interesting” method.
Inevitably, this means the bottom shelf of the TV cabinet still houses easily reachable computer paraphernalia like X-Tendo’s and Wi-Boxes which, clearly, I have no interest in. The same can’t be said of Frog though.
Anything with a button and a flashing light is the baby holy grail as far as she’s concerned. And because of our “let her find out for herself that it really isn’t that interesting” approach, I seem to spend most of my day running around after her attempting to limit the path of destruction she is intent on wreaking throughout the house.
“No interest”, my arse.
But the thing that really gets her going – the thing that beats even flashing lights and buttons – is, yes you guessed it, baby wipes. Any kind will do, she’s not fussy.
I’m sure you can guess what’s coming next. This is what greeted me after a lightning speed jet stream visit to the toilet earlier today:
Oh. Not again.