Firstborn has decided that she's a kangaroo. This new identity first emerged yesterday teatime. Since then it has escalated rapidly.
I made the mistake of calling her by her name at bedtime.
"I'm a 'roo."
"That's nice sweetie"
"NO!" shouted, "I AM NOT A SWEETIE! I AM A 'ROO!"
"MUMMY! You have to call me Mr 'Roo."
"Oh, sorry, OK."
"Mummy. You're a silly sausage."
"Yes, sugar, I am."
"NOOOOO!!!!! MUMMY!!!! Mr 'ROO! NOT sugar!"
I wanted to suggest that kangaroos do not bellow at their mothers at the top of their voice and go red in the face with rage, but on balance, I decided that silence was the only possible option in the face of such bloody-mindedness.
Firstborn hopped all the way to nursery this afternoon. She would have hopped all the way home as well except that exhaustion overtook her. Then she insisted on us standing in the street for a full five minutes while we debated on the subject of kangaroos using buggy boards. My negotiation skills were sorely tested but the bribe of a handful of Smarties made her come to the conclusion that kangaroos do, on occasion, lower themselves to the use of buggy boards - but only when chocolate comes into the equation.
I have since discovered that it is impossible to bathe a three-year-old who insists on hopping around the bath tub. Bedtime is made immeasurably more difficult by the declaration that kangaroos hop while asleep. And hopping while eating dinner makes it even more messy than usual.
I have also discovered that the Small(er) One is very impressionable. Thank the heavens she can't hop yet, but the constant shouting of "Roo! Roo!" is starting to give me more than a headache.
I can't wait until Firstborn decides that she's a princess again. I'll take being forced to curtsey and call her "Your Highness" over the hopping, any day of the week.