My daughter has always been a bit of a fanatic. At two years old she has many obsessions; some last days, some last months and some are over in minutes. She loves what she loves and hates what she hates. She gives objects of love and hate equal energy. It’s tiring.
First it was shoes:
Then it was hats:
Then it was ketchup, Mr Tumble, pasta, swings, chocolate, ketchup again, books, crayons and Mr Bloom.
Those were all the things she loved. Loves.
But now she is a little older she has started letting us know (in no uncertain terms) what she DOESN’T love. Namely, what she “DON’T LIKE MUMMY!” At the moment this list consists of willies, lawn mowers, Grandpa in My Pocket, bedtime, not being allowed to sit in puddles and anything that isn’t yoghurt.
When Frog gets her mind set on something it’s like the inevitable trickle of water towards a waterfall. There’s no distraction. It’s from nought to sixty in a second. The rage is all consuming and That. Is. It.
Of all the obsessions that have tested my patience the most, it’s one song. She’s been through Gangnam Style and out the other side. The Wheels on the Bus is history. Even Carly Rae Jepsen has been crossed off the list.
But those bloody monkeys… They’ve been in our life for at least six months now and they’re showing no sign of going anywhere.
Meet my child’s Obsession Number One. Five Little (very annoying) Monkeys. Kill me now.