I'm funky

Car journeys are often the time when G enlightens me on a variety of topics...who hit who today,  what she ate for lunch, and the secrets daddy told her to keep (yes daddy I know you both ate scrambled egg in the lounge this morning!). Sometimes she asks me the bigger questions in life, such as where babies come from - sadly mummy's tummy was not sufficient enough answer for her and she wanted the ins and outs (no birds and bees here!). And other times she surprises me with quite frankly, random comments. 

Today I was left guessing what 'I'm funky' means. Without further elaboration I've since decided it could mean 1 of 3 things: 1-Her interesting combo of clothing and footwear has caught the attention of others.
2-That beautiful, wild hair of hers is getting her a reputation.
3-Her constant stream of stinky trumps have otherwise been labelled as funky. 
The above being said, she may just as well have overheard another preschooler saying the word funky, and gone in to parrot mode.... Mental Note, don't let G overhear anything that you don't want half the town to know by the end of the week!

Toddler tantrums
Is G still a toddler? She's behaving like a teenager at the moment. I adore her but my oh my can she could shatter windows with her scream.
The novelty of the 3 minute sand timer we purchased has worn off quickly - after several bouts of 3 minutes on the naughty step,  yesterday's response was 'send it back to the Internet mummy because I don't like it anymore'.
On the note of the naughty step, she may have her wish for no naughty step as Nanny could be moving in to a bungalow.  Hmm I think that news is possibly not public yet. Actually, G has known for the past 3 weeks so you probably already knew...

Let's play lunchboxes
What an amazing game I hear you say, I want to play. Be my guest.
You're ordered to sit on the floor with the 'other children',  wait to be handed one of an array of lunchboxes that G has packed with yummy dolls house furniture, told to open it, eat it, shut it, and put it away. And repeat.  And repeat.  And repeat. 
Dare you get up, open your lunch box without permission or ask to go and cook the dinner, then you're in for a whole new level of tantruming. 
Who's up for a play date tomorrow?? Bad luck Soph :)

Caravan crazy
We've recently returned from another long weekend at G's favourite caravan site. G goes crazy for caravans. The weather was incredible,  and so were G's tantrums (spot a theme?)! Still, we had an amazing time, especially so as many of the Chappo clan joined us. G and her cousin were thick as thieves by the end of the holiday. Myself and prosecco were pretty well acquainted too!

We are on the countdown to half term, no tantrums about getting up and rushing out of the door for 7:15 am.  No tantrums about packing her lunch box. No tantrums about me needing to cook dinner after work. I'm not expecting a week of no tantrums because a week out of routine will in itself cause tantrums. However we're both excited about a whole week with Daddy, and the chance to be a little more free.

P.s. We definitely have no more appointments until June, but then we have 4. Bleugh.