La-Lo, and why I don't blog often

Woody came down the hallway, shouting at me.  It's the language that he speaks.  When I emerged, he saw me and started screaming and pointing towards the kitchen, squatting low for emphasis.  It sounded urgent.

Buzz had not taken his toys away, and Jessie had not smothered him with cuddles. In order to tell me what had happened, Woody led me to the kitchen bench.  I saw that he had pushed Jessie's chair up to the bench (!) and was now climbing up to where the kettle was (!) while gesturing towards the Milo tin and and screaming desperately, "La-Lo!  La-Lo!"

He wanted Milo, and had found that he couldn't make it himself, the poor little dear.  That was what was causing him such distress.

I was happy for him to have a drink of warm Milo, but to reinforce that I am the Milo-getter, I took the chair and child away, and hit the button on the kettle.

It took three seconds to boil.

Meaning it has been very recently boiled.

My 20 month old baby boiled the kettle to make himself some Milo.

Now this, I thought once my heart rate had returned to normal, was a bloggable moment.  But I hesitated to blog it, because a common fear had arisen.  "People are going to criticise me," I thought, "for allowing a universe in which Woody could push a chair up to a bench and access a kettle, even though he's never given any indication that he would think about it."

And this is why my blogging has been so patchy recently.  You can hardly fail to have noticed that I don't post as often, and I can pretty confidently say it is because of the horrible people out there on the Internet.  I have no fear of people wanting to find out our identities and hunt us down, but I do fear the thing that can never hurt me - words.

I've seen some ghastly things said about other bloggers, and I've had some dodgy things said to me on my blog.  All of it slices through me and leaves me wanting to retreat.

For instance I recently re-read an old post where baby Woody had been bitten by Jessie during a fight between Jessie and Buzz which took place in Woody's cot.  In response to the fact that something bad happened this one day that Buzz and Jessie climbed into the cot, some dastardly anonymous commenter had written, and I am not kidding,

"And what are you going to do to stop them climbing into his cot again?"

I know you're finding it hard to believe.  It's true.  Someone truly thought it appropriate to indicate that the whole thing would not have happened if I had somehow secured the area properly (true but outrageous) and that I should have foreseen all of this even though they always played so nicely together before (absolute lunacy.)

I don't know how someone so foolish even came to my blog.  I don't usually attract that element.  I usually get sound, sensible people like you.

And here we are with another domestic absurdity.  What will people say about this, I wonder?  That perhaps I should have foreseen the possibility that Woody would one day use that heavy chair to get to that bench to switch on that kettle? And perhaps I should have taken steps like:
► putting that specific chair into storage?
► selling my kettle?
► never allowing him to watch me make Milo?
► binding his legs together so he wasn't mobile?

Well, just in case you're wondering, that's exactly what I've done.  The chair and the kettle have gone and whatwasIgoingtousethemforanyway, and I have a blindfold near the bench so he can't ever see me doing anything.  I also have some strong ropes handy.  Just in case.

I only mention this in case anyone reading is thinking of blasting me because Woody tried to make himself a warm Milo.

(Seriously, would I be safe to blog more? I would love to, but fear a 'Killing A Fly Without Pity' site popping up somewhere.)


(Which, incidentally, is exactly how I kill flies.  Without Pity.)