I have noticed that there comes a time in every boy's life when mummy is cast aside in favour of fresher fancies. No, I don't mean when they are teenagers, I mean the terrible twos. With each of my sons I have encountered a phase just after their second birthday when I am no longer what his heart desires.
With the oldest two, the only woman for them was my mum. I would put out my arms for my offspring and they would bat me away, whipping round to cling to my mum for dear life. If she had to prise them off her they would writhe away from me, screaming for their beloved grandma. In fact the only thing that reminded them that they had a mother was when they hurt themselves, at which point poor old granny was instantly cast aside in favour of their first love.
Thankfully, for me at least, these phases were short lived, and I only had to endure being spurned for a month or two, before they returned to my arms with renewed adoration. But I will admit that this kind of rejection was hard to take. I guess it is the price I pay for being a working mum, as they always transferred their affections to whoever looked after them while I was tied to a hot keyboard.
This time around the twins have fallen head over heels for their lovely nanny. I can't say I can blame them as she is tall, blonde and beautiful, as well as having a heart of gold. But I will admit to a pang or two when my two-year old howls with despair when his nanny says it's time for her to go home, yelling 'No mummy' at the top of his voice when she tries to hand him back to me.
The only way she was able to escape yesterday was when he banged his head, and the shock reminded him that mummy wasn't so bad after all. I am just glad I have been through this twice before, so these actions have lost their sting.
I also see a certain logic to their choices as both my mum and my nanny are much nicer than me. They try to please the boys, providing them with whatever their hearts desire and generally pampering them royally. On the other hand their mother spends most of her time distractedly drumming into them that independence is a virtue, particularly when it comes to entertaining themselves while I fiddle around on my iPhone or empty the washing machine. Perhaps it should come as more of a surprise that they are ever won back round to mummy.