Angus is 18-months old. He’s a messy kid, as all are. He has fun making mess. It doesn’t matter if it is dinner, toys or chicken feed. He likes drawing lines with pen or crayon on paper, his legs and our legs.
Mummy, look what I found
He wants things he can’t have, like my phone, the remote controls or beer bottles. He opens cupboards to get at the contents. He can turn a tidy, clean house with mopped floors into a ramshackle wreck in about ten minutes.
The backyard is littered with balls and bikes. If he’s in the garage he wants the hammer, drill or pliers. He can play pool, but prefers throwing the balls instead of using a cue.
Angus is a lot of fun most of the time. He’s mastered a few words now, mummy, daddy and car. He can also say Roo, which is important for future football purposes.
Last week I showed him how to cover drive. Angus wanted the cricket bat then showed me how to hit things like the BBQ table and the poles supporting the house. His best golf shot was actually a throw at close range. The golf ball hit me in the face.
He loves our phones, so Kristine charged her old phone and gave it to him. The decoy phone worked for about three minutes, but it would come in handy a few days later.
Angus is fond of standing on our feet and grinding his heel into our toes. It is annoying when I’m cooking or using a sharp knife. It is worse if I’m watching the footy. Telling him to stop doesn’t work. I usually pick him up and put him in another room. Ten seconds later he is back and aiming for my feet.
A few days ago I was folding washing. Angus was pretending to use Kristine’s old phone while trying to stand on my feet. I kept moving away so he threw the phone and bounced it off my left foot.
It didn’t tickle. I picked him up and put him among his toys. He cried. Kristine picked him up and told him to give me a cuddle, to say sorry.
No way.
His grief lasted about a minute. The next day I was eating pepperoni and cheese at the kitchen table. Angus had a piece of cheese then stood on my right foot. I put my feet under the table. He reached under the table, trying to get to my feet.
I gave him a piece of cheese and put him on my lap. He grabbed the knife, a slender, sharp silver utensil.
Kids learn by observation, but I can honestly say I have never stepped on Kristine’s feet, pulled her hair or slapped her face.
Angus must’ve learned those things from Kristine…
Like most kids, Angus learned to say oh oh early, because he copied his parents. Whenever he spilled his water, dinner or dropped a heavy toy on the floor, we’d say oh oh.
It’s cute listening to a toddler say oh oh… Kristine and I can’t help but laugh. It isn’t that cute when he watches us clean the mess.
Two days ago the simple utterance of oh oh stunned me.
I was folding washing, again. Angus was playing with cars at the front of the house. The bathmat wasn’t completely dry so I hung it over the child gate at the back door so I wouldn’t forget to take it downstairs and hang it out again.
I filled a beer mug with water and ice and left it on the kitchen table then went back to the washing. A few minutes later I was in the bedroom, putting clothes away when Angus hustled in.
He looked worried. Oh oh, he said and pointed.
‘Oh oh,’ I said. ‘Show me oh oh.’
Angus trotted out from the bedroom. I followed him to the kitchen. There was water on the table and the floor. The bathmat was on the floor too, in a crumpled mess among the water.
He stood by my side, looking up at me with wide, blue eyes. I looked down at him with wide, blue eyes. There was silence. He was frowning. I was in disbelief.
I knelt down and used the bathmat to soak up the water. Angus pointed at the residue. I gave him a tea towel and he bent over and wiped the floor. I used the bathmat to dry the table then hung it on the child gate.
The mess had been cleaned in less than a minute. I scooped him up. ‘Whenever you go oh oh you come and get daddy,’ I said. I kissed his cheek. A few minutes later, when he was standing at the front door looking at the chickens, I cuddled him from behind and kissed his cheek.
‘You’re a good boy for getting Daddy,’ I said. He smiled.
Leaving a mug of water on the kitchen table in reach of Angus was my fault. That he tried to clean the mess amazed me. I could not believe he went to the back door and pulled the bathmat off the child gate. He must’ve come to get me because the bathmat was too heavy for a little boy and the mess was too big.
If I was in the kitchen when Angus grabbed the mug of water, I would’ve said no and moved it away. I probably would’ve moved him out of the kitchen.
He would’ve looked at me with confused eyes. Maybe he would’ve cried for a moment, and it would’ve been my fault.
Instead, I didn’t see it happen.
He came to get me after trying to clean up the water and was rewarded with kisses and cuddles. His honesty was astounding. It made me evaluate my reaction to mess, which, like all parents, occasionally involves frustration.
Frustration over spilled water is pointless. Kisses and cuddles are much better.
Angus is always learning from his parents. He has learned, somewhat, to clean up his mess.
As parents, by our child we are being taught…
