Painting the Forth Bridge

Back in the late 80s my dad worked for a company that had the contract for painting the Forth bridge. The story goes that because the bridge is so large and every area has to be painted it takes four year to complete. Once it has been completed they need to start at the beginning again. So the phrase 'a bit like painting the Forth bridge' has stuck in our family. (My parents are on their 4th house since that time and even though they only stayed for 3 years in one they have all been redecorated completely decorated at least twice).

Today we have friends coming to visit - one of my BFF (I am lucky enough to have a few - though they all now live a great distance from me - the furthest in New Zealand - and don't necessarily get on with each other) and her husband and daughter (who I'm also 'supporting adult' for - the equivalent to God parent in a civil naming ceremony). Now I don't know about your friends but with mine there is always a bit of 'keeping up appearances' involved - I may have told her the whys and wherefores of why my life is currently falling apart but I still want my house to look nice.

However, with a 4 year old at home it's, well - a bit like painting the Forth bridge. As fast as I get one room clean he's trashed two. As I've said before, cleaning is not my thing and my occasional forays have proved that if I clean it will just be a mess 10 minutes later. So preparation for a 'visit' lasts at least a week. If I say I've picked up books, CDs, DVDs, cuddly toys and pants off the floor at least 10 times a day for the last week you might get the picture!

At his grandparents this aversion to a clean house is the complete opposite. There is nothing he likes better than to help grandma mop the kitchen floor or grandad to vacuum the carpet (my father never used to vacuum but there is currently a standoff about the carpet - mum doesn't like it and wants to replace it is is refusing to clean it! - it is bright red and shows up every speck of dirt, plus they have a white long-haired cat!). Perhaps the fact is that my mum's house is always clean whereas mine is always 'lived in' and he can't bear them to be different from that. When I asked him why he kept making a mess he first blamed his imaginary friends (a baby elephant and a Kangaroo) then he said 'because it makes you cross'. Sometimes parenting is 'a bit like painting the Forth bridge'.

Is there a Guinness World Record Entry for the Longest Tantrum?

If there isn't then my son may well make the first entry today!

I thought tantrums were the trademark of the 'terrible twos' not once a child reached four. His capacity to scream seems to outlive his ability to remember why he started in the first place.

After an afternoon with grandad he was reluctant to leave as he wanted to see grandma. So when I picked him up at 5pm he started to scream. Protestations that grandma was at work, that she'd got the day off tomorrow to spend the whole day with him and that she wouldn't be back until after bedtime went on deaf ears as he continued to howl.

The usual tactic of tickles raised a few smiles but the howling didn't stop - though a couple of times it subsided into deep heaving sobs. Eventually he was lulled by the motion of the car to sleep. However we all know a child that falls asleep before dinner is likely to wake at 2am having had a full rest and demand breakfast. Upon waking the howling started again - even before he opened his eyes. My mum rang to check he was okay after dad's report of the tantrum upon leaving their house - he was still inconsolable, couldn't hear her on the phone over his own sobs. Traumatised my mum jumped in the car for the 20 minute drive to my house. He just about calmed down to deep sobs again when she arrived and finally settled to eat his dinner. A 2 hour long tantrum (plus a sleep in the middle) has to be a record - OH has repaired to the pub, mum has gone safely home, kiddo is still running around upstairs and I've just consumed the biggest bowl of ice cream. Let's hope he doesn't make a habit of it.