The one thing that protects our washing machine from countless Baby Z bashing is our robot hoover. Its a round thing the hubby bought one day thinking it was an amazing little invention. It is quite cool to sit on the sofa and watch it do its little hoovering thing. It bounces off the walls and does a sort of choreographed sweeping dance all around the room. We OOoooh’d and AAAhhh’d the very first time. Then we got quickly bored of it and went about getting distracted by something else shiney whilst it did its thing.
Once we realised Baby Z was a bit nervous of it, it got promoted to Guard Dog status. A new relationship flourished between the washing machine and hoover from these foundations (mostly one of silence and standing still in one place) and laundry peace was restored.
Baby Z mostly hovered around the protector and protected whilst he calculated his next move. Fear of the dust sucking appliance was the only thing coming between him and his washing machine friend. How would he now open the door constantly? Or press all the buttons? Or pull all the clothes out? Or simply have a chat with it? The fear stopped him. But the fear of this dust sucking appliance was his Everest.
Not knowing how to get out of this quandary he studied. And thought. And calculated. Planning. Plotting. Waiting…
Then one day…(last week), this…
Oh bloody hell. His new obsession is now the poor Guard Dog. He can spend hours just switching it on and then laughing as it bounces into walls as it warily and obediently carries on hoovering. His fear is no more. He will even mock it by mimicking it. Nooooooo! We need something he is scared of to guard our appliances.
Then it came to me.
In Baby Z’s world, my (almost) 3 year old niece is like the Godfather. He is in awe of her, completely respects anything she does and can’t really understand what she is saying. She is his mentor and the one he wants to be like. In return she will praise him with a loud “Goog BOY Baby Jaja!!” when he does something good and loves him because he is family. He would follow around till the end of any mission (usually nap time) and she will provide pieces of golden wisdom including “eat properly Jaja!!”. It’s the perfect balance of love, protection and, most importantly, obedience.
I wonder if my brother will let me borrow her to protect stuff in our kitchen.
And the Hoover? The Guard Dog is now in a protection programme which mostly consists of sitting on the window sill.