No means No

I am a big believer in the saying "No means No". However, recently I have been a little disheartened by the abuse of the word, often hearing it bandied about like hugs at a politicians pre-election campaign. The word itself is quite powerful. Just two letters and one syllable, no preamble - only a direct no nonsense message. Or so I thought...

Most toddlers go through the "Why?" stage, which I was fully prepared for being a think on my feet kinda gal. But nothing could have prepared me for the "No" stage! Blatant, defiant and antagonistic; I have heard this word in all its tones and this is usually before morning tea!

It is very frustrating until I started to think about the word in a different light. No longer does "No mean No". In my house, the word "No" is simply punctuation.

These boots were made for walking

I have a beautiful toddler, who in personality is very similar to me. I love her so much, but every so often - and mainly because we are so similar, we butt heads. I decided it would be a good idea to spend some mummy/daughter time, with my toddler... alone... just the two of us... to help combat our headbuttedness.

With the constant question asking and whiny voices, who couldn't think of a more enjoyable day out than going shopping together? Besides, if the sales people really started to shit me - I could always just set my toddler onto them. I'm pretty sure sales people and toddlers are one and the same, I say again - question asking and whiny voices.

Remember when you would get frocked up for a big night out - piecing together an outfit that made you feel omnipotent? This was me, getting ready to go into combat for the afternoon at the shops with my toddler. I pulled together the very fashionable skinny leg jeans, the black (dontcha be messin wit yo mumma) knit top, and a pair of big black high heeled boots! I was ready.

The first ten minutes shopping were terrific, but pretty soon I realised a toddlers will is stronger than my own. When a toddler doesn't want to shop - its not going to happen. By the time we made it back to the carpark, kicking and screaming - that was me, not her - everyones' patience was done for. In that brief second between unlocking the car door and packing my toddler into her seat, she had run off back through the carpark screaming at the top of her lungs!!

It was then that I realised. "It is bloody near impossible to run in high heeled boots"! I may have been dressed for combat, but my boots were made for walking... not chasing!!