Note to child: I am not play equipment

CC photo credit: rosmary

In yet another in my series on summer and my poor adaptation to full-time mothering, I’ve reached a point of putting my foot down on the baby/11kg toddler crawling all over me every minute of the day and demanding to be carried all the time – which, all of sudden, seems to be pretty much all day).  I can’t take it anymore.

You see, Monkey, contrary to what you seem to think, my little cherub, I do not exist for the purpose of being crawled and climbed upon.  I am in fact, not playground equipment, or, as my South African mother would say, ‘a Jungle Gym’.

While I may call you Monkey, you are in fact not born of the jungle.  And so, not only am I not a Jungle Gym, you will find on closer inspection that my hair is not a collection of jungle vines on which to swing, (though I am very flattered that someone perceives my hair to be of greater body than the flimsy fairy floss it more closely represents).

Nor, Monkey, I think you will find, is my face made of play dough.  Whilst I don’t doubt it is immensely enjoyable to ram your little fingers in to my mouth and eyes and grab my nose, you’ll find that there is no change in shape or that is in any way malleable.  If my face were once play dough, you could say with certainty that at this point it has long ago been put in the kiln for setting and cannot be re-moulded.

My stomach, while perhaps a little softer than it should be, is not a durable, bouncy surface like a play gym floor into which you can dig in your little feet on your frequent climb up to the top of the  jungle vine covered, play dough faced, Jungle Gym play ground equipment that you perceive is your mother.  No it isn’t.  So enough! When you can play on the ground, you shall, when you can sit in your pram, you will (although I do agree to ply you with food, toys and funny faces in an attempt to keep you from wailing), and if you wouldn’t mind terribly learning to walk it would be VERY MUCH APPRECIATED.  Thank you darling.  That’s all. Now crawl over there far from my lap and play quietly.

That’s bound to get through to the little guy.

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