Bruiser and the Fire Extinguisher
Bruiser’s personality is developing nicely. He finds most things quite hilarious, especially if it’s something he’s done.
Once a week we take Diva to a gym class in a local hall. The session lasts an hour. Bruiser and I sit out in the large entrance hall with the other mums and their children. Some of them don’t have any other children. They get to read a book. They get to read a book for a whole uninterrupted hour. Sometimes I get to read something on a cereal box for a whole 30 seconds.
I usually come equipped with a variety of books, colouring implements, plastic animals, cars and chocolate. For the first forty minutes of the session, Bruiser and I play with each of these things for two minutes at a time. Then, Bruiser starts to make friends.
He makes friends by running around in a circle until another child joins in. They then run around together until it becomes chasing. Next they run up and down the hall as if in a race. Occasionally they hide under a table. Then they run again. There is very little oral communication, so I presume this is part of the two year old telepathic powers no one warned me about.
Last week, they discovered the fire extinguisher. It was big and red and had buttons. I told Bruiser he was not to play with it as it was dangerous and could hurt him. I explained that it was to help put out fires and that there were currently no fires in the near vicinity. He dutifully nodded and stepped away. He then waited for me to return to my seat, locked eyes with me, and began to approach the fire extinguisher… slowly…with an outstretched hand. I stared back, and shook my head in slow motion. Bruiser continued his approach whilst grinning. I waggled my finger and mouthed, ‘no’. Bruiser took another step and slowly nodded his head. He then paused, his fingers millimetres away from the prize.
We stared at each other, frozen, waiting for the next move.
The next move was his friend running up to the fire extinguisher and giving it a big shake. Bruiser immediately wagged his finger, shook his head and said, ‘No, it dangus! No fire. No touch.’ He then folded his arms, proudly looked my way and grinned.