The past two- three weeks have been awesome and no lie will i tell. Busy good and busy, well, not so good.
I will go with the not so good first, look out for busy bees 2 for what else i’m busy doing.
Kids are work.
Terrible, terrible work. Don’t have them. In fact i will go as far as to admonish you to never look at your husband with lust in your eyes. No coitus. No cuddles. Just holding hands and adopting the odd puppy.
No i am not with child nor have i given birth to a little drunk archer. I have a little cousin sharing our abode (As well as her brothers and sister) for the past odd week or so. She is the pointy point of the needle that keeps pricking. She is a three year old.
“Funmi, go to bed.”
“Funmi, do your assignment.”
“Funmi, eat your food”
“Funmi, wear your nightie”
“Funmi, brush your teeth.”
“Funmi, time for bathe”
“Noooooooo”, she cries while screaming and running away in terror.
“Funmi, hold the railings”
It. Is. Tiring.
But i have found the answer. Threats. For example:
“Funmi, hold the railings or you will fall down break your teeth and have to drink only water for the rest of your life.”
Funmi, holds railings immediately. SIMPLE!
Another thing is letting her cry. Crying never hurt no one. Except your neighbours, your dog (who might love to howl in time with the crying) and hearing the television.
“Funmi, it’s time for bed, come and get your nightie on”
Funmi breaks down into tears and wailings like she is been flogged to death. Waaaaaaaaaaah waaaaaahhh waaaaaaaah ( for the next 10 minutes)
The ten minutes i spend productively, putting away her play things, laying the bed and completely ignoring her. After all that crying had befuddled her head and confused her, she started to hiccup apologies; “aunty, Tai.. Hic hic wo.. Hic hic… I’m … Hic hic… Sor.. Hic hic…ry”
I did laugh… Not to her red wailing face oh… More of a muffled giggle to the wall. It was too funny to hear. Don’t judge me 😐.
And guess what, she stopped crying. All by her little lonesome self AND i got her nighty on AND she went to bed.
I think another thing is to let her hurt herself. I mean if you see her about to jump in a tub of acid, stop her. Don’t be a demon( Though you probably are since you have a tub of acid in your home). I mean the kinda hurt that instills fear immediately.
Funmi tries to put hand in the flame of the cooker.
“Funmi, stop it. Go away.” (Pushes her away gently)
“No.” (Manueveres away and again, tries to put hand in the flame of the cooker.)
“Funmi, stop it. Go away.” (Pushes her away gently, again)
“No.” (Manueveres away and again, tries to put hand in the flame of the cooker and succeeds)
“OUCH!!!!! FIRE FIRE FIRE!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥” (runs away screaming)
I indulge In a good old laugh which doesn’t last long as 5 minutes later, whilst putting a kettle on the cooker, the little fire-loving she-goat appears. I light a match and light the cooker.
“Funmi,” i say kindly, “d’you wanna touch it?”
“Nooooooooo,” she whines, rubbing her hand on her dress in what must be remembered pain, and tells me “it is hot.” And i nod wisely and stick out my tongue. 😛
But when i come in from anywhere. The way she runs over to hug me and scream about how much she missed me… Yeah, that makes me feel seven shades of special.