Here’s my post for this week’s Gallery at Sticky Fingers.
Nature is amazing, isn’t it?
Now, I freely admit that this picture makes my skin crawl. I have a very strong dislike of bugs. But somehow I still find it amazing that creatures of that size can work together in the way that they do.
Maybe humans have something to learn from it.
Dearest David,
You’re now nineteen months old. Woah.
Let’s talk about sleep. OHMYWORDYOU’RESOMUCHBETTERPLEASESTAYLIKETHISFOREVER. You toddle off to your cot, kiss the soft toys goodnight and tuck them in, then ask to be tucked in. You demand a kiss, then tell me to go away. You turn over, you fall asleep. What’s not to like? You sleep anywhere, you’ll fall asleep in the sling and stay asleep there, I can put you down when you’re asleep and know you’ll stay that way for at least a little while. On Saturday you stayed asleep on the grass in Hyde Park- you’d never have done that before!
When you’re not sleeping, you’re incredibly active. You climb, you jump, you throw yourself around, and you are utterly fearless. One of your favourite games is to stand on the sofa until Daddy says “Ready, steady, go!” and then bellyflop onto the sofa. You can climb to the top of the tall slide in the park, and you throw yourself down at breakneck speed. Please don’t break anything!
Now that you’re sleeping better, you’re eating better, too. You ate an apple with the skin on today! You can demolish half a punnet of grapes. You love scrambled egg, and omelette, and toast. You’re prepared to try new things, and you’re getting increasingly better at feeding yourself with your spoon and fork. You march to the fridge and demand “Juice!” or “cheese!” or “grapes!”, and when you can’t open it by yourself you get so frustrated until we open it for you. When the fridge is open you grab whatever you wanted and march into the kitchen, looking pleased with yourself.
You talk almost constantly around Daddy and I. You’re quieter around people you don’t know as well, but aren’t we all? This is slightly annoying, however, when I’ve been showing off about how well you speak and you refuse to say anything at all, apart from “Bye!” as you’re running away. You can name every single mode of transport we pass on the road, and several in the sky. You and I often speak French at home when Daddy isn’t around to laugh at us, and your French is improving at the same rate as mine- rapidly! You adore your Didou DVD almost as much as Postman Pat, and I find myself thinking in French more often, something I haven’t done since I had to write essays- it’s strange and wonderful at the same time.
So, darling boy, I’ll wind up now (especially as you’re on your second episode of Postman Pat so that I can get this finished.) I love you, you little monster, and I’m enjoying being your mummy even more than ever.
Love,
Mummy (and Daddy, who’ll cry as usual.)
Dearest David,
Today you turn nineteen months old. Because I’m is a bit rubbish and didn’t realise this until last night, here’s a photo of you asleep on Nana’s shoulder, and I’ll write you a proper newsletter over the weekend. Promise.
Love,
Mummy
