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When do they exit the toddler stage? 

I still describe my little monster as a toddler and this feels hugely wrong; he doesn’t toddle! He is fully capable of normal upright non falling over walking right now. He’s a proper pigmy version of a teenage boy, answers me back, willy obsessed, has a ‘girlfriend’, would rather be out on his scooter than inside entertaining me! What’s the next stage? 

So far in parenting there have always been stages and phases. The statement ‘its a phase’ is a life safer in the hard times, and you pray that the good times aren’t phases! I’m fully aware there will always be phases right through adulthood too, but stages feel like wishing him to grow up too quickly, cross one off and start on the next. Crawling, tick! Walking, tick! Climbing stairs, tick! Riding a bike…err! 

Our stage this week is the ‘I’m my own person; sod you, your rules and my own safety!’ stage, a delightful one you’ll all agree. If he wants to ride his scooter on the arm of the sofa he bloody well will do! If he wants to feed the fish regurgitated carrot from his mouth then he will do that too! Why drink apple juice when you can pour it onto your lap and the chair? Literally pour me a glass of wine right this second and make it be bedtime, I can’t take it! 

Admissions Of A Working Mother


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Admissions Of A Working Mother
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12 thoughts on “When do they exit the toddler stage? 

  1. I hear ya! Thank goodness for wine and blogging, eh?! How will we ever cope when they are actual teenagers? And don’t talk to me about spillages… Visiting from #chucklemums

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  2. I love the saying “it’s a phase” the amount of times a naughty day has been attributed to that. My god, I gotta be honest though, the terrible 2’s nearly broke me on more than one occasion! #stayclassy

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    1. I got duped big time yesterday. It ended with a stand off in a soggy car park. The request I made was ‘hold my hand walking through the car park or you might get run over’. A simple safety conscious request I thought. ‘No! I got on naughty step! (Hands shoved up his sleeves and folded across his chest – wtf?!?!)’ I actually considered sitting him on the soaking wet cold dirty Tarmac just to show I would go through with it. Bad mum? X

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