Charlie turns 2

Charlie turned 2 on Saturday. He celebrated his big day with a chicken thigh and a bone shaped biscuit. The first didn’t have enough time to touch the bottom of his bowl before it hoovered up. The second was, of course, carried across to the shaggy rug and crunched into a 1000 tiny pieces. Many of which are no doubt still trapped amongst the fibers, invisible to the human eye and completely untouchable by the vacuum cleaner.

To mark his special day, my daughter was insistent that we bought him a present. She was taken along to the pet shop and came home with a teddy for him. The same teddy (a small furry dog with an immensely annoying slow squeak when bitten) that he had had as a puppy, and then somehow lost along the way.  The whereabouts of this first toy were always something of mystery to me. Perhaps it was dog-napped by next doors cat, and is still being held hostage in their garage. Perhaps it is buried out in the garden somewhere. More than likely it is wedged under one of the sofas, entombed in 4 inches of dust.

Being 8, my daughter was of course incredibly anxious that Charlie shouldn’t see his present before it was wrapped up and ready for the grand presentation. I tried to explain that he really wouldn’t care or even have a clue, but of course that didn’t cut it. I found her trying to sneak a new roll of wrapping paper into her bedroom. Needless to say that was taken off her and cheap art paper was substituted in it’s place. An hour, and a good roll of tape later, we all had to gather around Charlie so that the present and homemade card could be opened.

I’d like to say that he appreciated all the effort she had gone to, but I don’t think he really noticed how pretty it was, as he ripped into the present with his teeth and nearly choked on a ball of soggy paper and sellotape.

His new friend hasn’t been let out of his sight since. He has accompanied Charlie outside to bark at next doors cat, been dragged backwards and forwards through the dog flap, been taken to the bowl at dinner time and carried through to bed at night – where they both go to sleep next to the other teddy that he was given by Father Christmas.

I’m rather hoping that having all of these furry friends will keep him entertained, and perhaps get him out from under my feet for at least a few hours a day. For while I do love the company, and the warmth of his fur laid across my toes under the desk, it would be nice to get up from my  chair without repeatedly running over his tail.

It has to be said that a Spoodle is, without a doubt, the most emotionally needy of all dogs. I know that ours is anyway. If you move 2 foot across the room – he’s there. If you get up to make a tea – he’s there. If you go to the loo – he’s there.  And while it is very flattering to be so loved, it can also sometimes make you feel like you’re being stalked.

So if you’re choosing a dog and can’t decide on the breed, take into account the following. If you want a furry shadow and constant companionship, then a Spoodle is perfect for you. But if you don’t like being followed everywhere you go, you get easily agitated from overcrowding or you are prone to feeling somewhat claustrophobic when pinned into a chair by 4 feet and a wet nose, then perhaps a Spoodle is not the right dog for you.

If however you’re thinking of having a baby, and you’re not sure if the whole parent thing is for you, then fear not and look no further. Spoodles thrive on attention and love to be held, cuddled and stroked. They don’t like to be left alone, and can instantly guilt you out with sad puppy eyes. They have boundless energy and will let you know when they want to play. They can be both highly strung and as dopey and soft as they come.

A Spoodle is the human equivalent of a newborn baby. They are the perfect baby test run.

Battle of the baby sexes

Recently I was asked one of those questions that few people dare ask and even fewer wish to answer. A mother (of boys) asked me if it is true that parents of girls look down their noses at noisy little boys and believe them all to be badly behaved and completely undisciplined.

Why ask me? Having learnt that I had one of each, she obviously felt that I would be able to give an unbiased answer. Whether or not she expected an honest one I don’t know, but seeing as she was quite happy to ask a question that put me well and truly on the spot,  I thought she in turn turn deserved the truth.

And the truth is yes, for the most part they probably do.

This unspoken snobbery amongst parents of girls, whilst rarely admitted out loud has always been there. An assumption that their head to toe clad pink princess simply has to be cleaner, smarter, better behaved and without a shadow of a doubt a far nicer child than that unkempt little testosterone fueled terror on the other side of the playground. The one wearing his breakfast and trying to bury his head in the sand.

Deny it if you want all you mothers of Eve, but this is true. I know because up until the arrival of my own son, I also believed that many boys were the root of all undisciplined evil. I admit I could never understand why their parents didn’t just rein them in, shut them up and get them under some sort of control.

And then I had Sam. He learnt to walk, discovered his independence and only looked back when he was laughing at me. Finally it all became clear why girls and boys are so different, and surprisingly it had nothing to do with one being born with a halo and the other with a forked tail.

Little boys are like the Duracell Bunny, they are known for their unlimited energy and their love of running. Always in the opposite direction to an exhausted parent and often at breakneck speed towards a busy road. They tend to get dirtier faster and are often capable of ruining a complete outfit in 15 seconds flat, with nothing more than a piece of toast and a wet wipe in reaching distance.

They find sticking their hand into the toilet bowl and feeding the loo roll to the dog unbelievably funny. They have a strangely magnetic pull to the contents of every cupboard and drawer, particularly those containing knives, lighters and all deadly and poisonous cleaning fluids. They can take apart and lose the back of any TV remote in less time than it takes to cross the room and can scale any furniture like a seasoned mountaineer. They can increase their body weight to that of a baby elephant when they don’t want to be picked up and contort their limbs into a rigid banana when they don’t want to be pinned into their pram.

Girls on the other hand are often considered to be the quieter of the 2 sexes. Known to sit quietly on your hip and happily play with their toys. Known to help pick out their own clothes and even make an effort to keep them clean and tidy. Known to hold your hand when going out for a walk and if entrusted with a hand held whisk, regard it as a tool for mixing food with Mummy, not as a weapon with which to chase the cat and give it a perm.

Yes indeed, girls are known to be easier to deal with, easier on the ear drums, the energy levels and the nerves. But are they really all things sweetness and light? Does a pound of bacon really fly? Of course they aren’t.

Whether dealing with babies, toddlers or a child old enough to know better, girls and boys can be as bad as each other. Both can screech and scream just for the sake of making noise. Both can single handily depreciate the value of your home in 30 seconds and ruin the upholstery of your car inside of 5 minutes. Both can have such horrific tantrums in the middle of a crowded mall that you could quite easily stuff them head first in the nearest rubbish bin and walk away.

A child regardless of their sex is a complex individual, sometimes believed to be put there purely to test a parent’s sanity and to stretch all boundaries of socially acceptable behaviour. Some are sweet, loving and caring, some are bolshy, stubborn and incredibly sulky. All are a blank canvass, ready to be shaped into the person they will become and to be defined by what they are taught, what they observe and what they experience in the environment in which they grow.

So if all little babies are created and born equal, why are boys so quickly labelled as the nightmare sex and why is society so very quick to to re-enforce these misguided preconceptions?

You only have to look at any range of baby clothes to see that these stereotypes are ingrained into the minds of parents, and no doubt the child as well, from the moment they wear their first outfit.

Buying clothes for little girls is easy. There are always plenty to choose from and they’re always pretty, pink and covered in fairies, flowers and butterflies. Every top, t-shirt or babygro is labelled ‘Princess’, ‘Angel’, ‘Cutie Pie’ or ‘Fairy’.

Now move over to the boys section. Keep going, right to the back of the store, that’s it, those last few rails over there in the corner. The clothes here range from the ever so attractive sludge green to the ever so practical dirty brown. All tops, t-shirt or babygros here are covered in tyre tracks and muddy footprints and are inevitably labelled ‘Rascal’, ‘Trouble’, ‘Little Monkey’ or ‘Monster’.

Now aside from the obvious fact that most little girls I know could easily be described as Rascal, Trouble, Monkey or Monster, does it not seem slightly unfair to encourage and enforce this type of gender pigeon holing at such a young age?

Granted my son is generally always a little bit grubby, usually looking for mischief and always a tad on the destructive side, but it might be nice to occasionally be able to put him in a top that read ‘Well mannered and loves a good book’ or ‘Enjoys vegetables and always kind to animals’.

Babies are babies and children are children and they can all be a royal pain in the backside at some time or other (generally in my experience between 4-6pm). This labelling system seems to me to be an unrealistic and unfair generalisation, After all, very few little girls remain angels by the time their hormones kick in and most little boys have decided to cut worms from their diet and stop rolling in mud by the time they buy their first razor.

If babies are to be branded, then perhaps it’s time that the clothing companies came up with some more more realistic future personality and character traits.

I’ve come up with a few to get the ball rolling…

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