1. Farts are funny.
Once, before Zac was born, I was bathing Aidan. He was in the tub and contentedly playing with his toys, quietly and without screeching that he had no space or that his toy was being snatched.

Oh wait. Of course he was contented and quiet. This was BEFORE LITTLE THUG BROTHER WAS BORN.

Anyway, so there he was. Suddenly, the water started bubbling around his ass.

“What was that?” I demanded. “Was that a fart?”

He giggled, before declaring in glee, “I fart!”

Since then, the farts have been hilariously funny in this household. Just last week, I was nursing Zac before bedtime. This little person can really twist and turn his body WHILE NURSING (oh my boobies). He somehow flipped himself onto his belly and THERE IT WAS.

POOOOOOOOOT.

“Zac farted!” Aidan pointed out helpfully. Zac giggled.

And there begins my future.

2. Appendage pinching
These two, they love tugging on their penises. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHY?! We keep reminding them that it’s going to hurt but they absolutely refuse to listen to us.

Tug, tug, tug.

3. TRUCKS! BUSES! CEMENT MIXERS! TRAINS!
We thought it was a fluke that Aidan was obsessed with vehicles as a toddler. (He still is, though not as madly as before.) See, we never really steered him in that direction. He’s got pink swimming floats and stuffed toys and kitchen sets and wooden vegetables and Dora stickers.

But he naturally gravitated towards cars and trains and buses. He loves them. LOVES them. So much so that he could spot a plane in the sky from such a distance that the plane is nothing but a pinprick.

“Air plane kai (sky)!” he’d scream from the car seat and we’d both be squinting and looking around furtively.

“Yes, yes airplane,” we’d chorus, even though we see absolutely NOTHING.

And now, little brother is exactly the same. He can’t talk yet but he is certainly not lacking in the expressiveness section.

“EHH! EHH! EHHHHH!” he’d exclaim as a cement mixer/double decker bus/sports car/truck/MRT trundle past us.

Maybe in future, I’d just plonk them at the bus stop and tell them to count the number of buses that pass by. Free entertainment.

4. Ants in pants
Once, I went out with some friends for coffee. I was about 16 weeks or so pregnant and Aidan was not yet two. One of my friends had a little girl around Aidan’s age and throughout our time together, she was sitting quietly in my friend’s lap. No fussing. No whining. No complaining. Just sitting there.

Meanwhile, my child was like a tornado dressed in lamb’s clothing. He only wanted to eat my fries, demanded to be let down from the high chair and refused to sit still. When he was bored, he made sure that everyone knew it.

Today, the preschooler is slightly better at keeping still. He can quietly sit down and read a book or play with Lego. But not for long. And guess what?

ZAC IS 100000000000000x WORSE.

That one. Oh man. Both sets of grandparents have commented more than once that he is a really busy (body) boy. At the rate that he traverses in the house, my HDB cheap ass homogenous tiles would be worn out soon. Even when we are at the TCM clinic, waiting for our medicine, he’s zipping behind the counter, taking the bottles of the meds out, closing the drawer, to the amusement of the receptionist.

“This boy is very busy hor,” she noted.

YOU DON’T SAY.

5. Everyday is a Royal Rumble
Have two, they say. They will entertain each other, they say. They will be each other’s companion, they say.

What they don’t say is: siblings FIGHT. They scream and they push and they shove and they hit and they cry and they scream and they…where was I?

Every evening, it takes every ounce of my patience to not scream at them. Some days, I lose it completely. Like last week. I was exhausted. Zac was ill and cranky and whiny. Aidan was not eating dinner and acting like the world’s biggest asshole. They were both standing by my chair as I was scarfing down my dinner, complaining.

“ENOUGH!” I shouted. “I do not want to hear any more from you and you. Enough with the whining. And you, enough with the tantrum. Stop it this instance.”

Their faces crumpled and they burst into tears. I went back to my meal calmly and carried on eating like nothing happened. Seeing that they had nothing on me, they decided that it was, indeed, time to stop being little jerks and went off to play on their own.

Two minutes later…

“Mummy! Zac take my train! No! No! No!” BONK. Sounds of crying.

PS Look I know that this is totally gender stereotyping. Of course girls can behave this way too. Humour me, okay, since I don’t have ANY GIRL CHILD in this household (unless you count my cats).

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