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The piece this week is dedicated to all those who are currently reading it whilst having a two-year-old to contend with. Indeed, if they are managing to read at all, chances are the two-year-old has been bound hand and foot to a chair or else has been put into a locked room with a loud Barney video for company. Or, if parent is completely off her rocker, she is balancing a brightly coloured pretend teacup on her lap and simulating enjoyment of fresh air tea while pretending not to read the paper. The big problem with this strategy (humane though it is) is that two-year olds have an uncanny ability to sense faked fun. They know, through some highly developed ESP that mammy or daddy is trying to pull a fast one. They are aware that their company is not desired. Unlike adults who will slink off in embarrassment once they realise this, the two-year-old will refuse to believe that anything as highly riveting as the Tina Reilly column can possibly compete with their gummy grins and lispy speech. A campaign strategy will be immediately put into action. Two-year old will insist on playing more heavy-duty games like ‘pulling-all-the- soil-out-of-the-biggest-plant-in-the-house’. Or the ‘see-if-you- can-read-while-I-pretend-to-wash-your-hair’ game.
Of course, it’s not only reading that is restricted when a small toddler rules the house. ANYTHING that detracts from the two-year-olds sense of domination is a target.
Only last week, I found myself watching Coronation Street whilst having a bucket on my head. At the same time, I was forced to hold an opened Bear In The Big Blue House umbrella while my daughter sang ‘Rain Rain Go Away’ at the top of her voice.
I would be lying, however, if I said that I never get a chance to watch anything at all. There are times when she will play quite happily with her toys and let me enjoy my soaps. The problem with this is that I cannot, under any circumstances move while the programme is on. Even the slightest hint that I was going to change position on the chair is interpreted by my child as “Mammy is now bored with the stupid TV and wants instead to play with me.” A full scales exodus of teddies and dolls will accompany this thought until, buried under masses of toys, I give up on my soap and video it to watch sometime in the distant future.
So, parent of toddler, it’s best to declare defeat and save energy. Fold up that paper and vow instead to start living again once toddler has become a teenager. By then, with any luck, you will have been discarded along with the teddies and tea sets as something she’s too embarrassed to be seen with.