Not A Box. Or a Birthday. Or Dry Trousers

Reading this great book together didnt really work too well. She was all excitable this evening (and oddly convinced it is her birthday.) So I was trying to read this to her whilst fielding questions about where her presents were. I told her it wasnt her birthday, that she didnt have any presents but – oh – confusingly she did have presents… the book I was reading to her was a present, but not a birthday present. This did NOT go over at all well. Not sure whether it was the fact it was a book I was reading (therefore reading her gift/ having opened her gift?) or that this book was not an acceptable birthday gift or that no presents was not acceptable on this most special of non-birthdays, who knows. Having eaten a bit of fruit cake, which she announced was her (non) birthday-cake and played with the box (containing no gifts) I rescued for her to play with whilst reading her (non-birthday) book gift, she eventually calmed down a bit, but the whole birthday vibe was quite quite wierd and lasted about 30 minutes. No, no idea either.

There then followed more oddness. She decided that my (dry) trousers were wet and that she would help me dry them. With baby wipes. Which are of course wet. No amount of persuasion worked until she came and dried my (dry) trousers with a (wet) wipe. “There you are mummy. Trousers are dry.” Thank you darling. Nice dry (wet) trousers.

So the book about a box that isnt a box for the bunny (it’s a rocket, a boat, a crow’s nest, a basket for a balloon) seems ideal on a day when it is(n’t) your birthday and dry trousers are wet. But whenever I tried to explain that the box was not a box but rocket, she looked at me with a white-coated clinical stare and corrected me without sentiment “no, it’s a box.”

I just know one of us is very very confused and I’m hoping it isn’t me.



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