The Art of saying "No"

I've often heard my mummy telling her friends how difficult she finds it to say "no" to people. At such times my jaw literally hits the floor and drool flows freely from my mouth as I try to count on the few digits God gave me, the number of "no's" I endure on a daily basis. Climbing up the stair gate to jump over? No Judah! Emptying the cutlery drawer onto the kitchen floor to make music with the awaiting pots and pans? No Judah! Eating a mushroom I've found in the grass? No Judah! Ok fine, just let me clean the loo with your toothbrush...that's a no then. Humph. Seems to come easy by my reckoning!

But this week I was witness to an event unlike any other in my 2 short years. There we were relaxing in the house after mummy completed her chores (she's on a new daily cleaning fad - let's see how long it lasts...) when mummy spotted a ladder leaning against the wall next door. Ladder...hmm..she thought. Next thing she jumped up. "It's the window cleaner! We need to get dressed and outta here Judah!" 

You see, mummy had all but blown her remaining budget for the month after failing to amend her online groceries shop and getting two of everything.  Window cleaning was a luxury she wasn't eager to stretch herself for now. Not when it was raining anyway...

She didn't want to tell the guy no though. She felt bad. So she decided to do a runner. That way he wouldn't clean the windows because she wasn't home. I've never seen her dress so efficiently and clothe me with such military timing. We flew out of the front door undetected and mummy felt triumphant. She drove to my sisters school. we killed time listening to some classical music to calm mum down as she searched for a comb or anything resembling such in the car. Yes her hair was a tangled mess. She found an Afro comb which was a godsend under the circumstances. She found a way to make it work. We picked MH and drove home confident the window man was gone. And indeed he was, not a ladder in sight. 

Mummy opened the front door triumphantly only to spot a white envelope on the floor. She hoped in vain it was a winning cheque from postcode lottery, but ofcourse it wasn't. A lovely stamp across the front emblazoned with the cleaning company's name confirmed her worst fears. Inside was a lovely invoice for the window cleaning letting her know that payment would be gratefully received.  

Moral of the story: just say no. Mummy is now training herself to say no by picturing me standing atop my high chair about to perform a stunt each time she needs to say no. She's calling it picture-your-toddler-doing-something-dumb-and-just-say-no therapy. We are working on a patent and courses should be available online and hopefully we'll be able to whittle down the competing publishers by using the method and have a book out in time for Christmas. 

Right, I'm off to try something new. Gotta give mummy fresh material & all that.

Ciao,

Judah