The Wiggles Ball

Thursday

I kept Ella off nursery today because there's a tummy bug (or a "gastro" as the Aussies call it) doing the rounds and I don't want her to catch it before we fly to Brisbane. The nursery are very good at communicating with the parents. They sent an e-mail about it earlier in the week and they've had loads more cases since. Imagine a sicky, poo-ey toddler on a plane. Anyway, there goes my child-free day this week and there goes my blogmeet with Tokyogirldownunder, who's blog I regularly enjoy. And there's another day we've paid for childcare we aren't using.

Still, we're on the flightpath again. The view from the living room is a non-stop Qantas fly-past, the 747s gliding gracefully across our window towards Botany Bay. I'll never tire of this. I come running from all over the flat when I hear the slow rumble of a jumbo jet and I'm always a bit disappointed if it's United Airlines or Singapore instead of the flying kangaroo. I'd tell you which runway they're using but I haven't had a reception on the sodding short-wave radio for the past three months.

I think Ella is turning into a teenager because not only has she developed an aversion to having a bath, she's become manipulative as well. If only she'd lie in bed all morning, we'd have it made.

Yesterday she climbed up into one of those little car rides you have to put money in. "It's stuck" she said.

"Oh dear" I replied, "It's broken".

"No, no. Mummy just put some dollies in"

She means dollars. It made me laugh so much that I went fishing for a $2 coin and found one. She'll probably remember this for next time as well. Last night she was watching her Wiggles DVD. Darren turned it off because it was bathtime. She looked up at him with the biggest possible puppy eyes and said

"No switch Wiggles off. Make Ella sad".

As I've said previously, it's my own stupid fault for talking to her so much. Her longest sentence so far is "baby got top on with ducks on it" (in reference to her doll). And now she's learned to say "and". She can string as many sentences together as she likes so she can keep your attention.

This morning we went to the playgroup NSW group in Coogee. There are loads of playgroups NSW across Sydney. They run every morning from 10-12am. You turn up with a piece of fruit and pay $4 for entry. I haven't been there for ages but the girl who runs it recognised me so I finally had to cough up the $32 joining fee as well. They're having a fundraising event this week. I don't know what the cause is but they're selling lamingtons by the weight. They're going like, well, hotcakes. I just don't understand it.

The mums who go to playgroup are a pretty varied bunch. Most of them are okay but there's always one who looks desperate to make friends and smiles at anyone who looks at her without ever venturing forward to start a conversation. And there's always one mother who's child is behaving like a thug completely unchecked. Ella's at the stage she wants to "share" everything, which roughly means "oi, get off, that's mine" so she tried to monopolise every piece of equipment. It's pretty exhausting for her policing the trampoline and the slide and the bikes, a bit like spinning plates. She barely manages it and starts crying anytime one of the other children gets on something she's claimed as hers.

There are lots of tears and tantrums. Then someone walks away with the ball. It's a Wiggles ball. Ella thinks the Wiggles belong to her alone, she doesn't realise she has competition. The Wiggles ball is the last straw, she collapses onto a gym mat kicking her legs. I bundle her up and take her home.