SpiderGirl VS A Dancer

Matt and I have been having tussles with Tiny lately.

If it's not about her wanting to be nuded up all the time, or the fact that she won't go to bed, or that once we do manage to wrangle her body into clothes - she only wants to wear a skirt or dress, then it's about attacking the Doctor, or splashing the entire bathroom in water as though she's a human mini-tsunami. Or just getting into general mischief.

I've said it once, and I will say it again, Tiny is a firework.

This morning was a small victory when I asked Tiny if she'd like to go to preschool as SpiderGirl.

SpiderGirl is Tiny's interpretation of Spiderman - she loves wearing the Doctor's old dress ups.

Of course she said YES! And she put those clothes on and did not remove them.

Be amazed because usually she takes everything off within one minute. I'm not lying.

So off SpiderGirl went to preschool.

But silly, silly me. When I got home, I asked her how SpiderGirl went and she told me something very vague - which led me to believe that the childcare worker at preschool made her take off her outfit and change.

I asked Matt, and he said he got the feeling that the preschool was not entirely at one with the idea of SpiderGirl.

This made me fume. On a couple of levels. Three to be more precise:

1) Tiny's using her imagination. That's SO important to me. You spend a long time in life conforming and trying to 'fit in' so why not embrace that imagination, let it thrive;

2) The day before she wore a tutu - and she wasn't asked to change her outfit;

3) Today is International Women's Day - I wonder if that SpiderGirl outfit would have been taken off a boy (if he was Spiderman)

I never knew there really was SpiderGirl. Daughter of Spiderman. Rad.

Possibly The Best Invention Ever

This week, not only was I hemmed in by the red dust storm that landed upon Sydney, I thought we'd 'get out' by going fruit and veg shopping. Strapped Tiny in, went around to strap the Doctor in, and then I saw it, just above Tiny's head. A very non-tiny huntsman. In my mind probably as big as my hand (in reality probably half that). In my mind as hirsute as a Greek man's back (in reality probably correcto mondo). And so there ended any outings for that day. The spider went missing and I could not possibly go into the car for the rest of the day. Or night for that matter.

And tonight, I saw a huntsman hunting around near the smalls bedrooms. Usually I run the opposite way, but I was feeling unusually brave and grabbed the Doctor's favourite gadget. The Spider Catcher. I can catch the hairy blighters, keep them at arms length, and toss them outside. No harm done.

Have I blogged about this before? Well maybe, I don't know, tonight I'm too lazy to check. But given I have a hunch 'tis the season for hairy spiders, I thought I'd report back and let you know, the Spider Catcher comes highly recommended. Tell 'em PottyMouthMama sent you.