Writing -- Baby Talk: Early Bird

The following article featured in a weekly column on parenting in the Women on Wednesday supplement of The Evening Echo, one of Ireland's leading regional daily newspapers. It appeared in the 01 December 2004 issue.

When you're up at daft o'clock in the morning there are certain rules that you adhere to. Most of these have to do with noise: just because you're up doesn't mean the rest of the house has to be too. You don't, for example, put on heavy boots and stomp around the kitchen sorting out your breakfast. You don't sing at the top of your voice in the shower. You don't put the radio or TV on full blast….

Rules, though, are all for naught when there's a toddler involved. Ours was awake at 5:30 this morning. I stumbled into her room and was greeted by a bundle of boundless energy. I knew instantly that there would be no going back to bed for her… or me, for that matter.

Calming an overexcited toddler is a tricky business, and trying to do it in silence is impossible. She was happy to be up, and wanted to let the world know it. She gurgled, laughed, shouted and sang with gusto all the way to the kitchen. My appeals for hush had the opposite effect and sent her into fits of noisy giggles. This wasn't going to plan.

So, time for plan B… breakfast, that is!

With breakfast in front of her, I surmised, she would be too busy eating to make much of a din. I put her down to get the cereal and the milk. It was like releasing one of those wind-up toys. As soon as her legs hit terra firma she was off, toddling at breakneck speed in the direction she was facing - which just happened to be out of the door and back towards the bedrooms. She started shouting her sisters' names for all she was worth. I intercepted her outside the bathroom. The last thing I needed now was the twins up and about. Before 6am, I can only deal with one lunatic at a time!

We headed back for the kitchen, where I plonked her in her high chair and put some cereal in front of her. That normally does the trick… but this morning she seemed to be making an almighty racket between mouthfulls. At that time of the morning there's hardly any background noise, so the slightest sound seems amplified. Never mind her sisters, I was convinced she'd wake the neighbours at this rate.

After she'd eaten we adjourned to the living room: it's the furthest point from the bedrooms in our house. I was hoping to buy myself a bit of time by getting her to play quietly with her toys. Her fisher-price farm complete with its managerie of animals seemed like a good candidate.

As soon as she was absorbed with her game I stood up quietly and headed for the kitchen to make a much needed cup of coffee. I was about half-way to the door when my left leg was attacked from behind. She'd grabbed me in a rugby-tackle around the knee and was hanging on for dear life.

It's a peculiar trait in toddlers: when you want them to sit still, say to dress them or to feed them, they always try to run away and yet the minute you need a bit of freedom they attach themselves to you like limpets. You practically need a crowbar to dislodge them and the minute you do they burst into tears.

I unclasped her hands and liberated my leg. She screamed at the top of her lungs…and the twins woke up!