Well, you’re two. You were two two weeks ago, and you’ve been twenty-two and twenty-three months, but you so rarely let me get on the computer to write that I haven’t written you a newsletter. Bad mummy.
Anyway… You talk. It’s amazing. You have more than 600 words at the last count (a few weeks ago, and Daddy and I have stopped counting!). You tell me about boats that go on the sea and cars that go broom! and beep! and how slow drivers in front of us need to “get out way!”. You told Daddy and I “I ride bee an’ go see pa an’ pa!” (I’ll ride the bee to go and see Grandma and Grandpa!”). You know your colours and shapes, you can count to five if the mood takes you (which is rarely, but I know you can do it now) and you are very good at getting your point across. Your favourite word is currently “Mine!” and it mostly applies to things that aren’t- “Mine pone!” is actually mummy’s, “mine car!” is, guess what, actually Mummy’s car, and “mine BIG bed!” is actually mine, too.
You like food! This is a recent breakthrough. You’ve gone from being icky about textures and
very selective about what you’ll eat to being willing to try everything (including pasta! I nearly cried…). You seem to be growing out of the cows’ milk allergy too and can now tolerate cheese; however, we haven’t dared try you on raw cows’ milk and I doubt you’d drink it anyway, goats’ milk is so much nicer! You like clementines and grapes and broccoli and mushrooms and raisins and nuts, you like beans, you like chilli, you like hummous. You don’t mind getting messy and you seem to enjoy feeding yourself now- something you haven’t done in a very, very long time. Your capacity to learn new things terrifies me. You’ve been working the DVD player and TV for quite some time now- you also know how to find CBeebies (on our TV, and on Nana and Grandads’ too), find Shaun The Sheep, Thomas, and Postman Pat on my iPhone. You haven’t yet figured out the iPad, but that’s because I haven’t let you near it for long enough. I give it five minutes after you get your sticky fingers on it…
You can run, you can jump, you can climb. You hurl yourself around with aplomb. We know you’ve actually hurt yourself if you cry when you fall over, and you’ve sustained some fantastic black eyes.
You like to be cuddled to sleep, or feed to sleep, or fall asleep in your bed- it depends on how the mood takes you. Tonight you told me “Goodnight mum, I sleep bed now!”, but I know that tomorrow or the next day you’ll crash out on me after five minutes. (As far as I know it’s five minutes, I like these sleepy cuddles and I fall asleep before you…)
Did you show off any of the fantastic things you can do at your (belated) two-year check this morning? Did you? That would be a NO! You said about ten words, refused to do colours or numbers, used ONE three-word phrase, and didn’t stand still for long enough to have your height measured, you monkey.
So… happy belated birthday, stinky. We love you.
Mum and Dad (because Mummy and Daddy are *so* for babies)
