“Now pay attention everyone, there’s a toilet situation.”
Raffie’s face is framed with earnest intentions while our lovely builder friend, who can turn his hand to everything, and I stop talking and start listening.
“It is broken Mummy. I think we need Mike to fix it. Is he Mike Flood?” “No Raffie he’s not from Fireman Sam, he’s our friend who is good at fixing things.”
“Oh. I’ll go and get my toolkit Mummy. What’s a cistern?”
And so, for once, we narrowly avoided making a drama out of crisis. With water pouring out of the loo it was a crisis which could have been disastrous if we’d have left the house on time for once.
But now Raffie has turned three, everything seems to be bigger, brighter and a lot bolder than ever before.
Not so long ago I lamented the arrival of Mr Why but it seems he has now left the building with Mr In-a-Minute. I imagine them having a quiet pint somewhere while I am left to argue with Mr NOW who cannot wait for anything.
He cannot wait for his porridge to cool down so narrowly avoids burning his mouth. He cannot wait for his wrap to be finished until he realises half way through he did actually want soft cheese in it after all. And no matter how many buttons you press a Wallace and Gromit DVD does really need a few moments to load.
As Raffie bellows that I have to come with him RIGHT NOW for the gagillionth time that morning, sometimes I see in his face that even he doesn’t know why he’s so cross. With hot tears never far away, the harsh injustice of waiting for a biscuit is just one which Raffie faces daily.
We have tried cuddles, we have tried looking out the window, we have tried singing songs. I may be protesting too much, but I am starting to realise that the season of the tantrum is well and truly upon us.
Although it’s not all bad.
This new found hyperbole means that when he’s in a good mood he is absolutely lovely. He loves giving his baby friends teddies and kisses, rubbing my back and looking out for his bigger friends and making sure they don’t run in the road.
Raffie loves music and movies and is learning how to do jigsaws by himself. These are some of the joyful things in life and when he’s happy, we’re all happy.
So now we have left the terrible twos behind perhaps my clever cousin was right when she warned me about the horror of three. But only time will tell whether these dramas really are a crisis, or like our broken toilet, just a flash in the pan.