My life is changed by becoming a mother (and not just in those stereotypical ways: baby talk, talking about poo–although I try only to talk to Ludo about that–having no time to myself (not even five minutes for a bath), going more than a bit crazy day changing diaper after diaper, more…). But, I actually find myself doing things I never would have imagined myself doing. For example, sometimes when we are walking down the street and a vehicle with a siren goes by we shout (Johnny and I) at the top of our lungs: “Pammmm ponnnn! Pammmm ponnnn! Pammmmm ponnnn!” Mimicking the sound of the siren. Fun. But not exactly an image I had of myself.
Last week, Johnny came home from crèche one day imitating a crocodile. I think they may have sung a song about one as he was also making a crocodile mouth with his arms. He stood in the kitchen: “‘Garde Mummy! ‘Garde” as he snapped his arms closed. “Cro-co-dile! Cro-co-dile!”
Then, last weekend at his grandparents, he saw some real crocodiles on the television. I don’t actually know when he became aware that crocodiles were actually kind of scary things but yesterday, everybody was downstairs in the carnotzet (we had a wine tasting) and Johnny left on his own for a minute. He came back in with a sad-kind-of-worried face. “Cro-co-dile Maman. Cro-co-dile” and he pointed out the door.
“Oh. Did you see a crocodile, Johnny?” I asked. A bit surprised.
“Yes.” He nodded in confirmation.
“Oh. Well. There are no crocodiles here at Grandpapas’s, Johnny. You don’t have to worry.”
But he still had a worried face and kept telling everybody that he had seen a crocodile.
I decided I would just tell that mean old crocodile to go away. I left the carnotzet and said in a really loud, commanding voice: “Va t’en crocodile. Va t’en.” And then I went back in and told Johnny I had told him to go away.
Johnny got really excited: “Cro-co-dile parti, Maman? Cro-codile parti?” and I felt like a hero. He started telling everybody: “Maman. Crocodile. Parti. ” Which, in his world means that Mummy told the mean old crocodile to go away! And he didn’t have to worry anymore.
When? When? When was the last time I was talking to an imaginary crocodile? And how come this hero moment wiped away all those endless days of changing poopy diapers?
Fawn
Ah yes. Sometimes, motherhood really is pure magic.