Rarely a day goes by without worrying about my parenting skills. But Raffie’s cry of “don’t forget the wine Mummy!” pretty much confirmed my lack of abilities to the parliament of pensioners in the supermarket queue.
Unfortunately we go there regularly, but Raffie loves the supermarket and spends a lot of time writing out his shopping list beforehand with due care and attention. And after all, he is only being helpful. Raffie’s shopping list usually consists of the following:
Butter, toast, milk, toast, yoghurt, orange juice, eggs, butter, chocolate bourbon biscuits, wine for Mummy, beer for Daddy.
As you can see, he is a boy whose favourite meal is breakfast and who remembers the important things in life, although can’t remember to shut the fridge door or that no-one really likes shouting, ever.
Writing and drawing are two very different things in Raffie’s, the former being a careful row of vertical lines or bunched up spidery squiggles on lined paper. The
latter appearing on a number of inappropriate surfaces around the house, not least the fridge door.
Raffie has had a tough week. He has been suffering with a perfect storm of ailments which has made him sick, grouchy and thoroughly miserable. But being helpful around the house is something which takes his mind off it. He likes to mop the kitchen floor with the hand towel, clean down the hearth with his wipes, help with the washing up by hurling items into the bowl, and pours flour on the floor so that he can sweep it back up with his toy broom and dustpan and brush.
Outside, he has been picking up individual leaf after leaf between his finger and thumb and escorting each one to the bin and back, along with any blades of grass he has taken issue with.
Another favourite is using an old sponge to clean the glass in the back doors with water from his sand and water table. I would say though his laundry skills are improving, now handing me laundry to hang up on the washing line rather than pulling it all off the clothes horse.
The end results are often far from perfect, but his enthusiasm and pleasure in helping is a joyful contrast to the crying and distressed toddler we have had to try and soothe day and night this week.
To me, shopping both a sour reminder of the cost of living and how I wish I bit the bullet and just did it online more. But to Raffie, carrying a basket or sitting in a trolley at the supermarket is often one of life’s great pleasures. And it’s comforting to know that as I struggle up and down the aisles with a pushchair while people tut at me, thanks to Raffie at least I’ll never come home without the wine. And for that, I am truly grateful.
I find parenting a daily steep learning curve whether or not Raffie is yelling in the supermarket. Learner Mother’s blog is a slice of family life from sunny Cardiff and features lots of lovely photos too. You can find out more here http://learnermother.co.uk