Conversations with my one year old

Scene 1 – shopping

[Enter me, walking, and one year old in pram]

Hey, that toy looks interesting and colourful. Give it to me!

No, you’re not getting the toy, we have places to go.

But I want it, it looks easy to break or at least smear something on.

Come on you, straining against the seat belt is not going to help.

I … can … just … about …reach … it …

Oh no you don’t, I’m going to move you away.

Don’t do that.

Over here for you.

I’m warning you, this will not end well. We’ve had this conversation before.

Just wait there while daddy pays for this.

If you want me to embarrass you in public, I will. Don’t think I’ll hold back just because there are people here.

[Dignified silence on my part]

Right. I warned you.

BOOM!

Scene 2 – the change table

[Enter me carrying one year old]

Come on dude, we’ll change those pants of yours. Here, you hold this while I change that nappy.

You’ve tried this before.

Go on. Grab it!

You try this every time. My goal here is to spread powder, cream and excrement as widely as possible. I’m going to scream and roll around and, no, some ditzy fluffy toy is not going to distract me from my task.

It’s so cute!

No it’s not! The factory worker that made that face was having an unfortunate reaction to flu medication and was hallucinating badly at the end of a 16 hour shift. It’s terrifying.

It’s a bear!

I can see that, dopey. Bears eat people. This one also appears to have eaten a small porcupine which is struggling to get back out again.

Well I’ll raspberry your tummy!

Don’t!

I’ll raspberry your tummy. You love that!

I’m full of milk and baby food.

Raspberry!

Don’t bend me in the middle like that. You’re down the business end. Don’t …

BOOM!

Scene three – the park

[Enter me with coffee and one year old.]

Now you go and play while dad has his coffee.

[sotto voce] Like that’s going to happen!

Hmmm?

Nothing dad. Enjoy your coffee.

What are you up to?

Climbing the slippery dip. It’s all wet too, so it’s really dangerous.

Come back down from there.

Not until you put your coffee down to get cold and lift me off.

There. Down. No, don’t go back up there.

Why not, your coffee still looks like it’s warm enough to be drinkable.

Dad is trying to drink his coffee here. You go down and run around.

I know what you’re trying to do. You’ve got Buckley’s.*

Now where are you off to

These rocks over here. I’m developed enough to climb them but my balance isn’t so good. I’m planning to climb just high enough that you can’t one-arm-from-behind lift me down.

You’re a cheeky man! Run around over that way.

Which way? The one near all the other children, where you can sit on the little wall for a bit, chat to that cute mum and drink your coffee? No. I’m thinking over that way towards the large dog with the uncertain temperament.

You come back here. You’re too cheeky!

You’ve got nothing. I’m going to run and laugh at the same time and there’s nothing you can do to me. I’m one. I’m cute. I’m laughing. You can’t smack me – especially not in front of all these people.

I’m going to put you back into the pram.

You know, it seems like a good idea but it’s just not. We came here for me to play.

In we go. Straps on.

You get me out of here! I’ll count to three!

There’s a good boy.

One. Two. Three. Right …

BOOM!

*Cultural reference: Australian slang "You've got Buckley's" is a short form of "You've got two chances, Buckley's and none" - meaning you've got no chance. The etymology is disputed but the one I like is that it's a pun on the name of an old Melbourne department store "Buckley's and Nunn"

Scene 4 – the cot

[Enter me carrying one year old with bottle of milk and dummy.]

Ok mate, time for sleep.

Gee, I wonder what you’re up to; putting me to bed early like this. Trying to get to mum before she’s tired are we?

Onto the pillow. Here’s the bottle. Here’s your little blankie.

Parents are so cute. You love your little routines, and your belief that milk and a blanket are organic tranquilisers is endearing.

I’ll put your little music thing on. It’s been a big day. Off to sleep.

Yeah, you think! Saying “it’s been a big day” won’t psych me into being tired. Look into my eyes. I am not getting sleepy!

Time to lie down dude.

No. I’m going to bounce up and down in the cot. At this age, I can still use the “I don’t understand words yet” defence. Look, I’ll even paint some pictures on the floor with the dregs of my milk.

Right. Here’s the pillow. Here’s the blanket and here’s your dummy. Lie down.

And here’s me saying “no”.

[Time passes]

I know you’ve been ignoring me hoping I’ll get bored and go to sleep and you think you’ve nearly won but you’re so wrong! Outsmarted by a toddler again! That’s got to hurt.  I’m just lying here on this pillow with my eyes open. I’ll give it thirty more seconds for you to get your hopes up and then I’ll stand up and laugh.

Come on dude. Sleep time now. You’ve had your bottle.

Ah, sweet. In about sixty seconds, he’s going to think that a second bottle of milk is a good idea. He falls for it every time.

OK mate. Here’s the other bottle but you have to sleep now.

And the things that will do to my tummy …

BOOM!

Scene 5 – my house with one year old and a visitor of a similar age whose father has come over for a beer.

[Enter both one year olds, who give one another the secret dribble exchange handshake]

I see you too are a Junior Mason.

I am. Are you prepared?

Of course.

Where are the dangerous chemicals kept?

In the cupboard under the sink.

Ah, so original these adults are. (Jedi, I am becoming). Child lock?

Not since they got sick of taking it off every time they needed the dish cloth.

Excellent. How about power points without the plastic protectors?

Master bedroom, behind the bedside table on dad’s side.

Furniture?

The dining room chairs are low enough to get a leg up on, then onto the table with the candles and the matches they think I can’t reach. There’s also a step on the side of the bath from which we can fall headfirst into the tub.

You truly are an expert.

But, wait there’s more!

Steak knives?

Nothing so predictable. My old brothers have left Lego pieces down the back of the couch – fit beautifully in the mouth. Then there’s the toilet door that doesn’t lock properly unless you really slam it: perfect for walking in mid-stream. Finally, I can get the fridge open. The beers are in the door, second shelf from the bottom and they fizz over everywhere then you drop them.

You are truly an artiste.

Why, thank you. How long should we give them?

Oh, let them get 2/3rds of the way down their first drink; just enough to be relaxed and under the illusion that they’re getting an uninterrupted hour. In the meanwhile, can I tempt you to a little suspicious silence?

[Exeunt omnes – laughing]

BOOM to follow.