Trying to make imaginary eggs with a toddler

This is an insight into the crazy, and usually baffling world, of imaginative play with a toddler!

If you do not currently own, or have never owned your own toddler, then you may be totally unaware of the crazy shit that goes on behind closed doors in the spirit of encouraging imaginative play. Here is a glimpse into a fairly normal Saturday morning at home…

So I was in the living room, when my daughter Sophie asked me, “You want to play with me and my kitchen Daddy?”

“Yes of course I do my Princess, what are we doing in the kitchen today?”

“Do you want eggs?” she asked.

When playing with a toddler its just best to go along with whatever they suggest. They are in control so just be enthusiastic, take their lead, and say things like – Yes of course! – or Wow! – or That’s amazing! – And you should be fine.

“Yes of course I want some eggs!” I said, and then “Wow, that’s amazing!” I added. – Sometimes just stick them all together in the same sentence and do a big stupid grin for added effect. They are too young and stupid to know that you don’t really mean it.

“I can’t find my pan” she said.

Ok, first problem encountered in the making of imaginary eggs. Where’s the bloody pan?

“Ok my sweetheart, lets find your pan shall we…” I said – Still grinning.

Looking through her toy drawers I found a small wooden pan pretty much straight away – Bingo!

“Here you go my darling, here’s a pan” I offered.

“No.” She answered straight away. “Not that one. That one is too small!”

What? Too small? How can it be too small for imaginary eggs, they don’t even exist. Just imagine them bloody smaller!

“Ok my angel, let’s find a bigger pan shall we?” I continued, still with a big dumb grin on my face… and soon found a slightly bigger wooden pan. “Here you go, here’s a bigger pan” I offered, with slightly less enthusiasm than before.

“No” she answered again, this time like it was me that was being a pain in the arse and she just couldn’t get the staff these days. “Not that one. That one is for baby’s breakfast and baby is sleeping now.”

What?? Ok, I’m not even getting in to that shit now… I’m not getting in to why a wooden bloody toy pan can’t be used to cook imaginary eggs that don’t exist, because its needed at some point in the future to cook an also imaginary breakfast for a nonexistent baby that is apparently currently asleep. You need to know when to pick your battles and that is not one any adult has a chance of winning, so I continued on my search for a suitable pan with my big stupid grin fading fast…

“Ah here’s an even bigger pan” I said, wondering why she seems to have more fucking pans than we do. “Is this one ok my sweetheart?”

“Yes” she finally said. At last, we finally have a sodding pan. “Thank you Daddy.” She added, and my frustration was immediately evaporated by her adorableness… “Now you sit down and I’ll make your eggs” she said, “Ask me for eggs Daddy, ask me for eggs.”

So I sat on the couch and did as I was told… “Can I have some eggs please Sophie?” I asked, with my big stupid grin firmly back in place.

“No” She said. “I have to clean my thing first.”

By ‘thing’ she means her wooden kitchen, and so proceeded to start cleaning her kitchen with a dry sponge that she’s got for some reason, while I just sat there. I say cleaning, she rubbed it vigorously, possibly even taking some of the paint off it, but I wasn’t getting involved – I just kept my mouth shut and waited patiently.

I think she clocked that I was waiting patiently for her to finish cleaning her thing, and so without saying anything she just wandered over to a box of toys, and returned to me with a wind-up chicken.

“You keep the chicken while I clean my thing.” she said, offering me the small wind-up chicken she’s had since Easter.

“Wow! Thanks, that’s amazing!” I replied – See how it works. “Should I wind the chicken up?” I asked, getting a bit ahead of myself – Schoolboy error…

“No!” She responded, with a tone of authority way beyond her not quite three years on this planet. “Don’t wind the chicken up, or the chicken will go! And then you won’t have chicken with your eggs!” – And with that she just walked off, evidently disgusted with me, and left the room, just leaving me sat there holding a wind-up chicken.

Moments later though, and she returned into the room, all smiles and adorableness again, like I hadn’t just offended her somehow with my talk of winding the chicken up.

“Are you waiting for eggs Daddy?” she asked with a genuine care and interest to her tone – and like we hadn’t just gone through any of that shit with the pans and the chicken, and she had just heard that I might be waiting for eggs from somebody else in a different room…

“Yes I am.” I said, holding up the wind-up chicken for her to see, and forcing the big stupid grin back on to my face.

“Oh” she said, and with that, just turned around and left the room again, this time never to return.

I just sat there with the wind-up chicken for a bit.

Kids eh.

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