WHY TODDLERS ARE LIKE ROYALS

Madeleine Thompson - 18 Jan 15

Breakfast time this morning was the usual affair, cornflakes for toddler and baby, milk, banana, Me drinking strong coffee. News channel in background. Murky and dark outside as we meander through January.

Nothing unusual about that. Except recently my little lady toddler has fully embraced what it means to be a “terrible two”. With almost admirable quality, she is well versed in the art of tantrums, saying no very strongly, directing us all as if we are in her stage show, and my personal favourite, sitting down on the floor when we are in a public place and she doesn’t want to comply anymore. (We had this recently in a toy shop in town. My husband and I didn’t mind, we stood with her whilst she sat in the queue but the people behind us didn’t taken too kindly to her actions when their toddler joined in. It was a strange sort of toy shop peaceful protest).

In fact I am a little bit in awe of the way in which my daughter has morphed in a toddler. Such determination, perseverance, and focus are qualities we always say we want later in life – but for some reason we find hard to cope with when they come in the form of a pint sized was-baby but not quite a child. Those of you who grew up watching nineties British TV will remember the moment Kevin of Kevin and Perry became a teenager at thirteen and it was a dramatic and sudden transformation. This feels a bit like that.

Anyway, I digress. Back to breakfast. So there we were, with baby son eating his cornflakes quite happily, and toddler lady on the opposite site if the table giving me various instructions. “I want to swap chairs, feed me mummy, not that plate, feed me mummy, where is my Peppa Pig cup? I want my Peppa Pig cup, FEED ME MUMMY!”

And as I sat there being quite obliging and unfailingly polite, I began to think that she would do well as a Royal, to be in charge of lots of people and have lots of people do things for her. A bit like this.

Royal Aisha “I want my Peppa Pig cup”
Butler mum “yes Ma’am of course, and would you like me to feed you next whilst you swap chair?”

Life for royal Aisha would be similar in lots of ways:

• Her private butler (me/dad) would dress her after a long and involved discussion about all of the things she doesn’t want to wear.

• She would call for random food stuffs at mealtimes, which the kitchen staff (me/dad) would prepare – only to feel perfectly in her rights to refuse them point blank.

• She would be ferried around in the back of the car driven by her chauffeur (me/dad), and later, when her legs are tired, she would demand to be carried.

• She would veto all snack choices until we present one suitably laced with sugar.

• She would reserve the right to be endlessly picky.

• She would demand unlimited episodes of her favourite shows on telly.

• When we present her with her itinerary for the day she would be able to say no to everything.

• If at any point we didn’t listen, she would take her clothes off to show us she is serious.

• She would happily act privileged the next day, and the next…

Sigh.

I know I will look back in a few years, when I’m faced with an entirely new set of challenges, and think this was easy street compared. For now though, I think I will indulge in my little royal charade whilst we play musical chairs and swap the cups. Even if it does make me feel like a butler instead of a mum.

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Madeleine Thompson

I am mum to my little chicks, Aisha, 6 and Abel, 4. Originally from Yorkshire, UK, I now live in a little town in the North West. By day, I work for myself as a freelance PA. By night, I indulge my passion for writing.

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