From The Randoms

Child Safety Kits Are Out to Get Us

So, you have children, they start moving around, you childproof the house, everyone goes about their business in safely padded bliss, right? Right? Wrong.

Child safety fittings are out to get us. Child safety fittings are frankly dangerous. I have evidence.

 
1. Drawer latches

You know, the ones that let the drawer open just enough for the children to trap their little fingers in them. Repeatedly. Because they don’t learn.* You see, they believe the next time will be the time they get the drawer open and don’t just trap their fingers. They have faith. They have determination. They don’t have common sense. Or any survival instinct.

Still, at least they can’t get anything out of the drawer, right? Right. As long as everything in the drawer is at the very back of the drawer. Ridiculously, The Toddler and The Baby like to prise open the living room drawer as far as the latch will allow, fish around as far as they can reach, and pull out…the spare child safety latches that were left in the drawer.

(*Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking that if children get hurt doing something silly, they’ll learn and won’t do it again. They won’t learn. They will do it again.)

 
2. Child gates

In fairness, these have worked pretty well so far. Once places they would actually fit were identified. And the entire house had been remodelled to make the places they would actually fit useful places to have child gates. And the error of having a gate with a death trap/step over bar at the top of the stairs had been rectified.

It should, however, be noted that child gates are at their most effective for containment of grandparents, not children.

3. Padding for furniture corners and edges

Unless you bubble wrap all of your furniture, there will be parts left unpadded. Those are the parts children bang their heads on.

As for the places where there are pads? Removing those pads is the single-minded relentless goal of any toddler. And it will be achieved. Ultimately, those ‘protective’ pads will not prevent damage to little heads, but they will cause damage to furniture when forcibly removed by little hands.

Plus, of course, the children will take themselves out on the coffee table having tripped whilst tearing towards the coffee table because they have spotted padding to remove.

4. Fridge latches

Fridge latches can withstand five attempts to open the fridge without undoing the latch because you have forgotten there is a latch. Then they fall off.

5. Plug covers

There appears to be some contention as to whether plug covers are necessary or even should be used. They are effective at stopping children getting to the plug sockets, however. They stop adults getting to the plug sockets too. Have you ever tried to remove one of those things? If you need to use a plug socket you have put a cover into, I suggest you install a new set of sockets. It’s easier.

Furthermore, plug covers seem to deal with a largely unnecessary issue. Children are not that interested in empty plug sockets. Children are interested in plug sockets with plugs in them. Playing with empty sockets is much less disruptive to the functioning of the house than randomly unplugging every household appliance. And you just can’t superglue your plugs into sockets, you know. Apparently, it’s not safe.

6. The items that are never included

Fully stocked with these impractical/hazardous ‘safety’ solutions, I have noticed that the safety kits never have anything to improve the safety of two of the most dangerous household objects.

Cushions. Cushions are very dangerous. Children use them to climb. This is not sensible. Cushions make for precarious step ladders. Furthermore, children believe cushions make throwing themselves on the floor from a height safer. That’s true, actually. They also believe they will land on the cushions. Less true. What ingenious solution do child safety kits offer for dealing with the hazards posed by these deadly household items? Nothing, that’s what. How have they all missed this gap in the child safety market?

Nor do they address the threat children pose to one another. Children are very dangerous to each other. They never look where they’re going. But do these kits ever supply padding to stick on the children? No, they do not. Never mind the corners of tables, what about when The Toddler collides with the hard edge of The Baby’s forehead?

 
 
Therein lies the problem, if you ask me. We are trying to childproof houses. We should be childproofing children. My innovative new child safety kits will include mittens, superglue for feet, and forehead padding.

Toddler Towers: Are All Toddlers Basil Fawlty?

Following the slightly disturbing realisation that toddlers behave a lot like the children in Lord of the Flies, I give you the somewhat less disturbing suggestion that living with toddlers is also a lot like an episode of Fawlty Towers. (If you don’t know Fawlty Towers, it’s one of those programmes people used to watch in the days before there was only Peppa Pig. You may have heard rumours about those days. Everything you heard was true.)

You recall the basic tenets of Fawlty Towers: extreme tantrums, silly walks, bossiness, grumpiness, unreasonable behaviour, ridiculous misunderstandings, unintelligible English, and hitting things with sticks. Now, if you would just like to consider the last half an hour or so with your toddler…

Or allow me to present the evidence.

 
1. Public Relations

Much like Basil Fawlty, your average toddler will occasionally decide a random person is the most important* person ever. This person will be fawned over. Everybody else will be ignored. However, this will not last. By the end of the day, both Basil and the toddler will be found screaming at, and probably trying to kick, the previously beloved person.**

*Meaning rich and influential in Basil’s case, and probably in possession of raisins in the toddler’s case.
**Because they turn out to be a conman (Basil), or because they turn out to be a poohead (toddler).

 
2. Taking instruction

Basil and toddlers are prone to ignoring instructions (from their bossy wives/mummies); relentlessly repeating the same bad behaviour (hiring unreliable builders who put doors in the wrong place/knocking over baby siblings); and denying all knowledge (of how the door ended up in the wrong place/the baby sibling ended up in tears).

3. Ducks

There is an episode of Fawlty Towers in which the new chef only works with duck, all the dishes are duck based, and a significant amount of time is spent searching for duck. By some fluke in the space-time continuum, I believe this episode is actually based on my one year old, who talks almost exclusively about ‘duck’. The pursuit of duck is her main purpose in life. At this very moment, and though she can say ‘cat’, she is following the cat around yelling, ‘Duck!’ It is unclear whether she has decided to assign the cat to the role of duck, or expects the cat to locate a duck for her.

4. Food

The Toddler approach to food is modelled almost exactly on Fawlty Towers: complain that you don’t like what you are given only after happily eating half of it; and offer other people bizarre, made up combinations of food. (Ritz salad a la Basil, anyone? It’s like a Waldorf salad, but not. No? My two year old can offer you egg tea, if you prefer?) Toddlers further admire Basil’s willingness to shout at a chef who is not in fact there, though they see no reason to limit such shouting to imaginary chefs: the world is literally full of imaginary people at whom you could be yelling.

5. Questions

Que? This one is quite self explanatory. In fact, I believe Manuel’s record for the most prolific use of the word ‘what’ in a 30 minute period was recently broken by two year old Roland from Weston Super Mare.

6. Misunderstandings

Now, I don’t recommend turning to toddlers for your hammer supply needs. However, if you do, you will find yourself discussing ham sandwiches and hamsters, with someone who doesn’t fully grasp the English language. It happened to Basil, it will happen to you.

7. Stuffed Animals

The Major may have been somewhat surprised to discover a stuffed moose that was both talking and naughty, but for a toddler, of course, this is just another day at the office. Indeed, up to 70% of a toddler’s time can be spent informing stuffed animals (who may or may not be talking back) that they have been naughty.

8. Causing Offence

Like Basil, toddlers are inclined to say absolutely anything that you would really prefer they do not say. Never mind Basil’s inadvertent mentions of the war to the Germans, Toddler Basil would have unashamedly informed them: ‘You did do the war, didn’t you? You are a naughty wolf!’

 
So: conclusive proof (‘ooh I know’) that toddlers are living out Fawlty Towers on a daily basis. (Now, just don’t mention Peppa Pig. I mentioned it once, but I think I got away with it…)

The Sound of Poppins

The Toddler is singing:
‘Supercalifragilistic*mumble mumble*docious
Even though The Sound of Music…’
Yes, she has created a Mary Poppins/Sound of Music mash up. The hair dye has not fooled her: Julie Andrews is Julie Andrews, no need for separate songs around here.

I have been hoping she will continue on with the original lyrics of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious:
‘Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Even though The Sound of Music is something quite atrocious…’
Accurate, no?

Thus far, The Toddler has not obliged. I have therefore kindly completed the verse on her behalf. I expect that Julie Andrews will be wanting to use my new song, and she is very welcome.
‘Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Even though The Sound of Music is something quite atrocious
If you watch Mary Poppins long enough, you always will forgive me
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.’

Obviously, following this triumph, I was feeling a little bit pleased with myself, and I have therefore taken the whole thing too far. Oh, yes, I have come up with further Mary Poppins/Sound of Music mashups.

Introducing The Sound of Poppins, in which flying nanny nuns ward off marauding Nazis and amorous chimney sweeps in fairly equal measure. Featuring an award winning soundtrack*, including:

    1. Sister Maria Suffragette
    2. ‘A spoonful of sugar helps the anschluss go down
    The anschuss go down
    The anschluss go down
    Just a spoonful of sugar helps the anschluss go down
    In the most delightful way’
    3. My Carpet Bag Things
    4. Let’s Go Fly a Swastika
    5. Goose Step in Time
    (‘It’s the Fuhrer, step in time
    It’s the Fuhrer, step in time’)

Actually, they could have used Mary Poppins in The Sound of Music. She’d have got those troublesome Nazis under control. Practically Perfect people don’t stand for invasions of Poland. Of course, then who would have stopped those bloody awful children caterwauling? (People claim the Nazis did nothing for the arts. No one ever remembers that they got the Von Trapps off the stage. Credit where it’s due, I say.)

(*Someone is surely going to award me Daftest Blog Post of the Week, right?)

The Cat in the Is That a HAT?*

(* Or: What on Earth is Happening in The Cat in the Hat?)

 

As we sat all alone
In our house for the day,
We wondered was it legal
For our mother to leave us this way?

We are after all only four and a half.
Social Services would not like it.
Not one little bit.

We did not roll in jam
Or paint on the wall.
Despite being left unattended at four,
Quite inexplicably we did nothing at all.

Then a cat came on in.
(Was that cat wearing a hat?)
Did our mother even lock the door?
Seems like bad parenting, that.

Our fish was upset
But his priorities were wrong.
Never mind the cat in the house:
Where had our mother gone?

Undeterred by the lack of an opposable thumb,
The cat began juggling with…
Is that a rake? Where did that come from?

Then our fish was dropped into a pot.
Did the lack of oxygen stop him from moaning?
Why, no, it did not.

So our fish could not breathe,
But still kept on telling
That cat he must leave.

The cat would not leave, he put up a fight.
Perhaps he’s a squatter.
It would serve our mother right.

No, the cat would not go
(Seriously, was that a hat),
And he brought out two Things.
Well, just fancy that.

What the hell were those Things?
No, really: animal, plant or mineral?
And how did they fly those kites in the house
Where there’s no wind at all?

Then our fish saw our mother on her way home.
So we had to capture those Things and throw out the cat.
Tidy the house and…
Why was he wearing a hat?

Luckily, it took our mother some time from window to door.
We were able to remove the cat (and his hat)
With no sign at all.

Our mother came in, opening the door with a creak.
She asked us, ‘Did you have fun?’
What a cheek!
What a cheek!
What a cheek!

Child abandonment.
A cat with a hat.
And those Things were quite strange,
We’re sure about that.

Should we report her?
What should we do?
Does this story really
Seem normal to you?

Not Little Red Riding Toddler

Once upon a time, there was a little toddler, who did not live in a village by a forest. She never wore a red riding cloak (though she sometimes wore a bumble bee outfit), and no one called her Little Red Riding Toddler.

One day, Not Little Red Riding Toddler said, ‘I’m going to see my grandma.’ So she packed an imaginary picnic to take to Grandma’s house, and didn’t put on a red cloak. Silly Mummy warned her not to dawdle on her way: dangerous babies lurked in the living room.

So Not Little Red Riding Toddler set out to visit Grandma. On her journey, she came across some beautiful pull along turtles and a tea set. She promptly forgot Silly Mummy’s warning, and stopped to sniff the turtles and pick a few tea cups. She did not notice when a shadowy Silly Daddy approached and snuck onto the sofa.

Silly Daddy was not interested in the slightest to hear that Not Little Red Riding Toddler was going to see her grandma. He gobbled up something more likely to fall into the category of ‘leftovers’ than ‘Grandma’, before making minimal (no) effort to dress as Grandma.

Not Little Red Riding Toddler arrived in front of Silly Daddy. Silly Daddy continued to devote his best efforts to not looking like Grandma. Without needing to question Silly Daddy’s eyes, ears or teeth, Not Little Red Riding Toddler declared, ‘You’re not Grandma!’

Not Little Red Riding Toddler was nothing if not persistent. She was visiting Grandma. She had not visited Grandma. She announced again, ‘I’m going to see my grandma.’

Presently, Not Little Red Riding Toddler reappeared in front of Silly Daddy, who was still showing remarkably little interest in pretending to be Grandma. Not Little Red Riding Toddler was once again able to see right through Silly Daddy’s complete lack of disguise: ‘You’re not Grandma!’ Not Little Red Riding Toddler knew who Silly Daddy was really: ‘You’re the big bad wolf. Roar!’

So, in something of a role reversal, Not Little Red Riding Toddler roared at the big bad wolf, who disappointingly failed to either chase or attempt to eat anyone. Nonetheless, The Baby Woodcutter appeared at that moment, brandishing a toy remote control at the Silly Daddy Wolf, just in case. The Silly Daddy Wolf situation under control, Not Little Red Riding Goldfish Toddler announced, yet again, ‘I’m going to see my grandma!’

Later, Not Little Red Riding Toddler returned to Silly Mummy, where she declared that she was actually Peppa Pig (of course), and was just…off to see her grandma.

And they all lived repetitively ever after.

Name the Children: Your Chance to Get Involved!

It has come to my attention (through keen powers of observing that The Baby had a birthday), that The Baby is no longer really a baby. As such, renaming of The Toddler and The Baby would appear to be due.

I have decided to open up the options I have been considering for public discussion/voting. *

(*I reserve the right to entirely ignore the publicly favoured option, if it is the one I do not want to use.)

 
 
Without further ado, I give you the shortlist of new names for my now pair of toddlers (oh, yes, I am fully committed to overplaying the excitement level of this post – prepare to be underwhelmed and totally disinterested).

1. The Toddler and The Artist Formerly Known as The Baby
Not really. Just kidding.

2. Toddler the First and Toddler the Second
I like the Lemony Snicketness of this, but wonder if it would fail to be a significant enough distinction, and thus be confusing.

3. The Littlun and The Bigun
A Lord of the Flies reference, so there would be a link to a favourite post of mine. (I know, right, how clever. Perhaps Silly Mummy should also be renamed? Clever Mummy. No? No. It wasn’t even my idea. Thanks, Dad!)

4. Toddler the Elder and Toddler the Younger (to be shortened to The Elder and The Younger)
As in the Pitts (William, not Brad and Angelina). A highbrow political reference. We are very highbrow around here (what is that laughing, stop that right now).

5. The Toddler and The Baby
For those who just don’t like change.

 
 
Which do you prefer? Or do you have suggestions of your own? (Yes, there is a small risk of this leading to further votes to deal with additional suggestions, and the eventual decision to just call them Toddler One and Toddler Two taken on the eve of The Artist Formerly Known as The Baby’s first day in secondary school…)

Eight Times Having a Toddler Was Like Lord of the Flies

Hands up who’s read Lord of the Flies? (Hand down, Dad, I read your school copy of the book: just two pages out of the entire book were annotated.) Those who did read the whole book: have any of you noticed your house has gone just a little bit Lord of the Flies since having a toddler? (If you have never read Lord of the Flies, but still want to know if this applies to you: essentially, if your life has started to occasionally resemble a dystopian chaos run by toddlers, this applies to you.)

Here are eight times having a toddler was like Lord of the Flies.

1. Mummydaddy
Remember the twins in Lord of the Flies? Sam and Eric. The boys on the island stopped treating them as individuals, and referred to them both as Samneric. Does anyone else’s toddler refer to them as ‘Mummydaddy’ (or ‘Daddymummy’)? Or even just use ‘mummy’ and ‘daddy’ completely interchangeably? You are parents, not people, and don’t you forget it.

2. Overreact and destroy things
The children in Lord of the Flies become paranoid that a beast is living on the island. When a dead parachutist lands in a tree, they believe that it is the beast. Simon, the lone voice of reason, discovers it is just a man and tries to tell the group. In an hysterical frenzy, they kill him for his troubles. Meanwhile, your average toddler may, on any given day, decide that this banana they asked for mere seconds ago is rather suspicious, is not at all what they wanted, and may in fact not be a banana. Furthermore, this, this right here, this table, minding its own business, sitting exactly where it always does, is an interloper and deeply offensive. It must leave. Now. A Lord of the Flies-esque hysterical frenzy will ensue. Voice of reason Mummydaddy will be battered with screeches of ‘go away’ for attempting to defend the table. See the similarity? Be afraid. Be very afraid. (Oh wait, sorry, that’s The Fly, isn’t it? Wrong fly reference.) Much like in Lord of the Flies, should the toddler form a group, they will become much more dangerous. The group mentality can be summarised as ‘destructive’. Things will be thrown. Chanting and ritual dancing may occur.

3. When you’ve been naughty, cry
You recall what the boys in Lord of the Flies do when they are finally found by adults in their filthy, unkempt, may have murdered a couple of people state? They cry. What does your toddler do when found by an adult, covered in sudocrem, totally naked, and surrounded by the strewn corpses of the toilet roll? Probably cry.

4. Offerings to the beast
The boys in Lord of the Flies offer up a pig’s head on a stick to appease the ‘beast’. Presumably, similar thinking is what leads toddlers to present the cat with a piece of Lego, an Iggle Piggle and half a plastic egg.

5. Piggy’s glasses
Much like Piggy’s glasses in Lord of the Flies, any glasses wearing parent of a toddler will know that glasses get confiscated and taken back to the lair.

6. Pig chant
Like the ‘choir’ in Lord of the Flies, many toddlers have taken to chanting relentlessly about a pig. Admittedly, they are unlikely to advocate killing Peppa Pig or slitting her throat. Nonetheless, the reasonless, barbaric obsession with hunting down the pig in Lord of the Flies has its parallel in the toddler’s relentless pursuit of more Peppa Pig.

7. The conch
Remember the conch? The all important object that had to be held in order to speak in Lord of the Flies? Toddlers love an object that must be held at all times, will be fought over by other children, and confers great importance upon the possessor. In fact, the average toddler is grasping at least seven such objects at any given time. Six of these belong to Mummydaddy. Five are breakable.

8. The bad influence
Remember Jack? The boy who gradually leads all the others into savagery in Lord of the Flies? Your toddler is really very sweet-natured, actually quite well behaved, knows the rules, right? There’s always a Jack. Every parent knows there is always one other toddler leading your really quite well behaved child astray. There is always a Jack. If you don’t know this, and are wondering what on earth I’m talking about, you’re Jack’s parent. Sorry you had to find out this way.

 
So, there you have it. Your toddler starts the day in an orderly house, excited about the opportunities ahead of them. By lunchtime, said toddler is naked, crying, inexplicably dirty, and surrounded by the debris of what were once toys. It’s Lord of the Flies. (Don’t worry, this is not a cause for significant concern. If you are able to relate to eight times having a toddler was like A Clockwork Orange, however…)

Muppet Babies v Sarah and Duck

I’m conducting a comparative study of children’s TV programmes in the eighties and children’s TV programmes today. Impressive, non? Non. It’s a posh way of saying I’m trying to decide whether the children’s TV I watched was more or less utterly ridiculous than that which The Toddler now watches. In order to answer this all important question, I am comparing Muppet Babies with Sarah and Duck in five scientific* categories. Each of these categories has been meticulously formulated** to assess the relative levels of ridiculousness between these two shows. Once the outcomes of the five categories are combined, I will be in possession of clear, indisputable evidence conclusively proving*** which generation watched the more ridiculous TV Programmes.

(*Stupid. **Not at all. I made them up on a whim. ***Not even slightly.)

 
Category 1: Random Animals

Sarah’s best friend is a duck. Due to the complete absence of parents/guardians/responsible adults around to set her right (see below), she appears to believe this is normal.

Of course, at least half of the Muppet Babies were random animals and, frankly, who on earth knows what the rest of them were.

Still, ill-advised as it may be to put a baby bear and a baby pig in the same nursery, Sarah takes a duck to the library. And the doctors. We all know the saying. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…it is not suitable company for a child at the doctors. Because it’s a duck.

Sarah and Duck is the most ridiculous programme in the random animals category.

Category 2: Random Animals Aside, What on Earth is Going on with the Characters?

Okay, so The Muppets, as babies or otherwise, have always been a little on the weird side.

However, let us just take a moment to consider a few of the characters featured in Sarah and Duck: a seven year old girl; a duck; a rainbow; a wool wrapped lady with a talking bag; a talking bag; a donkey; a cake; a flamingo; a girl with a plate; an umbrella that is scared of rain; and some shallots.

I think we can all agree no more needs to be said. Sarah and Duck is the clear winner here, too.

Category 3: Parents and Guardians

The whereabouts of the Muppet Babies’ parents was never addressed. However, the Muppet Babies were being cared for by Nanny. Nanny had her weaknesses. She was just a torso and a pair of legs. That seemed a little odd. Mary Poppins would certainly have frowned upon that sort of thing in the nannying world. But, in all fairness to that torso, it was there for those muppet kids. It was a torso and a pair of legs more than is supervising Sarah and that duck.

Yes, Sarah and Duck are wandering around town without a single parent or guardian in sight. To make matters worse, the one adult who appears at all is Scarf Lady. Hardly the epitome of a responsible adult. She’s called Scarf Lady; has a pet donkey; and her talking knitting bag helps her when she gets confused. Though evidently not when she got confused and thought a donkey was an appropriate pet.

Sarah and Duck is once again most ridiculous.

Category 4: Stupid Names

Sarah and Duck has Scarf Lady, Ribbon Sisters, Plate Girl, Scooter Boy. Yes, you don’t want to be called Plate when you have to go to school (not that anyone in this programme has any parents to send them to school) but, to be fair, these names are accurate descriptions. It therefore just doesn’t seem quite justified to call them stupid names. Stupid characters, perhaps. But with pertinent names.

Over to Muppet Babies: Fozzie, Rowlf, Gonzo, Animal, Beaker.

Muppet Babies takes this one.

(Interestingly, both programmes have a Scooter. Scooter is a cross-generational daft name.)

Category 5: Plot (or What Are They Doing?)

The Muppet Babies lived in a nursery and went on imaginary adventures, with songs, before returning to Nanny and reality. They played hide and seek, tried to cure fear of the dark, performed Snow White, and avoided the dentist. Actually, this is all relatively normal behaviour for young children (or young whatever they were).

Sarah and Duck also go on adventures. Not imaginary. Surreal, but not imaginary. They go to the zoo because Duck wants to be a penguin (of course he does). They photograph birds (yes, that’s a duck photographing birds). They learn to bobsleigh (Cool Runnings 2: The Child and The Duck). Their bus gets diverted and makes some underwater stops. They make soufflé (a seven year old and a duck, weirdest Come Dine with Me ever). Imaginative? Yes. Different? Yes. Ridiculous? Absolutely.

Obviously, Sarah and Duck wins in this category.

 
 
By four categories to one, children’s programmes of today are declared more ridiculous than those of the eighties. So, there you have it. Children of the eighties may have believed nannies didn’t have heads, and to this day think the word ‘beaker’ is hilarious, but at least we weren’t asking our parents for pet ducks. Or, indeed, ignoring the very existence of any such thing as a parent, and making a soufflé with a small aquatic bird of the anatidae family (i.e. a duck).

 
Tune in next week for the epic smack down that is Rentaghost v Mr Tumble.*

(*This is not happening. Do not buy foam fingers.)