So once a month my husband lovingly and without complaint, colours my hair for me.
It was Friday after work, which is normally a chilled evening for our family. The children are allowed to watch TV and we generally do as little as possible! So with sandwiches and milk in hand, the 2 children, who automatically turn in to zombies once the TV is on, are plonked down in front of it devouring everything it offers.
Awesome! Now we can colour my hair in peace!
So about half way through the process, we hear the 3 year old calling. “Mommy! Mommy!” (I am not sure how many times I have asked them to lift their bottoms and come and find one of us, but I digress.)
That in mind, we ignore her – thinking she would naturally get the point and get up to find us. Not only does this not happen, but when she realises we are not responding she decides to use every dialect of ‘parent’ she can think of!
“Mom” “Dad”, “Mamma”, Pappa” and her favourite “Mommy-yaa”.
Still we ignore her until we hear her open the door to the dressing room. VICTORY! The child has learnt!
We look over to her. Pants down round her ankles, and she says, “Please will you wipe my bum? I called and called you!”