The One with Ta

I've never been a fan of Ta. Before I had the boy I could never understand why parents encouraged the use of it over just going straight to the proper thank you. 


Naive fool that I was!


Of course now I see that thank you is far too many syllables for a one year old to manage and you're teaching manners rather than the correct words. Thank you will come in time and lets face it, even as adults, how many of us still say Ta to each other when you've been passed the salt, butter or depending on how rough your day has been, white wine or valium! 


It's just it used to grate on my nerves!


But sap that I am, now the boy says it all the time I love it! It's so cute! I must be losing my edge with this motherhood lark!


I've been trying to encourage passing things back to Mummy when you've finished with them, rather than just throwing them with zeal half way across the floor. This could be bowls, plastic plates, cutlery, bits of banana or a handful of Cheerios! So far it's working quite well and the random throwing seems to have abated, for a while at least. So with each finished or disregarded item the boy accompanies the action with a Ta.


However the aforementioned Cheerios are another matter. You don't get a Ta with Cheerios. With that particular breakfast cereal you get "the dance of the Cheerios"! This is where the boy shakes the bowl with such vigour they fly over the floor, onto Oscar's head as he scurries past, across the dining room table and even on one occasion down my bra. Now I realise my bra's are a pretty big target area, but that kind of accuracy is impressive. I'm hoping with the boys projected adult height and the size of his hands, that if he can slam dunk a Cheerio down my top the NBA will be a piece of cake!


The trouble is he seems to think that saying Ta will exonerate him for any fall out for a wrong doing. So it's ok to chuck your breakfast across the dining room as long as you hand Mummy back the empty bowl and say , Ta!


And my trouble is I laugh. Or at least have to stifle a laugh and turn away because it's just so damn funny. However tired, or fraught I am about all the mess, I have to appreciate the natural comic timing of my son. It's genius. Pure comedy gold. 


The best one came one teatime when I gave him crumpets with Marmite. He picked up the crumpet, eyed it suspiciously, had a taste then proceeded to lick off all the Marmite. Once it was clean he handed it back to me with a smile and a look that conveyed, "I've finished with this now Mummy, what's next?" accompanied with the obligatory, Ta! 


So after all these years of hating Ta I now find it has comedic properties and it brightens my day.


But maybe that's because if the boy doesn't grow up to be a rich basketball player he may just turn out to be another Eric Morecambe!