Developmental progress check.

The boys went for their developmental check the other day. In the main, they did us proud. It’s never nice to be poked and prodded that way but they stood still while the doctor measured their height and although Fat Chops moaned a little bit, Monkey Boy was stoic and didn’t as much as whimper. He did however; glare suspiciously at the doctor for the duration.

There passed all the tests with flying colours but even after over two years, there is little to separate them. They are both exactly the same weight [13kg] but Monkey Boy is 88.5cm tall while Fat Chops is a mere 88.2cm. That should help people tell them apart in future, Monkey Boy is the tall one!!!!

Anyway, regardless of what the Doctor said, the real development milestone was hit last week. I was feeding Fat Chops when he let a little fart. I was trying to distract him while I shovelled food into his mouth so I went for the theatrical “Oh my goodness!! You let a rudie!!!” and laughed a little bit. FC was impressed that he had solicited such a reaction so he pushed another one out. Firstly, I’m slightly juvenile. Secondly, farts and people falling over are always funny. Thirdly, he gave me a really earnest look seeking my approval so I had cracked up laughing. He giggled too and I shoved another spoonful into his mouth. Obviously with toddlers, if something is funny once, it will be funny the next thirty four times. They can squeeze every drop out of anything that amuses them. Speaking of squeezing every drop, he clenched and pushed out a little more gas, then again, and again, and again! He milked it until the well ran dry and he was left straining, grunting and a little red faced. I was also red faced and had tears running down my face.

You can say what you like about his vocabulary and physical attributes but to me the important part is that laughing at farts brings him closer to being a man.

Dog Day Afternoons

I’ve intentionally mangled the title of a Dustin Hoffman movie because this post is about the method acting skills of my heirs. It’s tempting to leave it at that and pretend that I am a big fan of that classic movie and I spend my time watching worthy movies like that, The Godfather Trilogy or something off the list of Academy Best Movies. Truth is, I was going to watch it but then I decided that I didn’t want to deal with something that serious so I watched The Commitments instead.

Anyway, time to carry on towards my point. The boys have been dabbling with a little bit of thespianism. Nothing major, they still can’t read and to be frank most of their conversation is unintelligible so they won’t be performing in the panto any time soon, never mind the works of Shakespeare.

What they can do, and in fact are very good at, is barking. Yup, they are acting as dogs these days. Not just an odd bark here and there, the whole enchilada. They crawl around, not just in a babyish way, but bringing both legs forward together like a dog would. When not barking or howling they pant constantly, tongue out and they are really living the role. For long periods of time they will stay in character [Fat Fido and Monkey Pup???] and play fetch, roll over and look to have their belly scratched.

All well and good in the comfort of your own home and I am sure there are stranger things happening behind closed doors all over the world but they decided to take the show on tour over the Christmas. The debut performance was in Uncle Cheddar Terry’s house when we met up with a group of friends to exchange Chris kindle presents. One minute they were cheerfully dismantling UCT’s house*, the next they were crawling down the hallway with drool covered Christmas decorations in their mouths. I was sitting in the corner of the living room and half hoping to get away with it by keeping them out in the hallway but it wasn’t long before everyone noticed and collapsed into laughter. Still, these were my closest friends and the people that have witnessed most of my “finest” moments so treating my children as household pets was just another entry in the long list of embarrassing moments.

On Christmas Eve we called into our former next door neighbours. It’s not that I don’t feel comfortable being myself in front of our neighbours, they are great friends and we’ve got to know them quite well but I’ve been cultivating a public persona in our area. I am involved in the community basketball team so I try to appear respectable. Needless to say, we were in their house for all of ten minutes when Monkey Boy noticed a stray ball of wrapping paper that had fallen on the floor. I saw him look at it and could almost see the gears moving even as I implored him not to do it. I looked around for a distraction and I’m sure there were plenty [it doesn’t take much to amuse them, they wanted to play fetch for goodness sake!] but panic had started to set in and I couldn’t think clearly. Then Monkey Boy dropped the ball in my lap and started panting.

Loudly.

Everyone turned around.

I’ve always believed that if you are in for a penny you should go in for a pound so I threw the ball and scratched him behind the ears when he returned it. There are worse things than letting your neighbours know that you play fetch with your children – like writing a blog about it for anyone and everyone** to read.

*I am strongly considering offering the boys services to new and expecting parents. For a not so small fee we could bring the boys to your home and they would go from room to room highlighting what parts need to be childproofed. Candles on the coffee table, photos on a low shelf, delicate ornaments on the fireplace and the like are a veritable magnet for their exploring hands.

**Everyone meaning family members, friends and one or two friends of the aforementioned.