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).  Read more...