Whilst soothing David to sleep:
“Oh, sleepy baby, sleepy boy, sleepy baby…”
“No! I dot baby!”
“What are you, then?”
“Cat!”
Darling, darling David,
You’ll turn fourteen months old at 3.14pm today, and this month you are definitely Toddler, rather than Baby. I love this stage, and I can’t say I miss the baby as much as I thought I would.
You started this month walking a little more than you were crawling. You ended it running everywhere. You’re a joy to follow, and a nightmare to catch up with: you certainly keep everyone on their toes! You love walking because you can carry things, especially Tiger, who now comes everywhere with us. You are also a minature escape artist: you’re learning to operate doors. We’re screwed.
You’ve spent a lot of time with Grandma and Grandpa over the last few days, as I’ve been first in bed and then in hospital. (I’m mostly better now, although I won’t be if you keep playing that blinking xylophone.) I think you’ve missed me: you certainly seemed to. I’m happy, though, that you’ve had a lovely weekend with your grandparents and a day with Daddy today, even though I’m a little sad that you completely managed without me. You’ve been lovely and snuggly, though.
You’ve also been horribly ill this month, of course. It started with a runny nose, and moved onto an ear infection and conjunctivitis (well, if you will rub snot in your eyes…), followed by a really nasty case of tonsilitis, followed by a sickness bug which gave you the nastiest nappies in the world, ever. You were sick over two cafes, countless baby changing rooms, and the kitchen and bathroom more times than I care to count. It’s the first time I’ve ever put you in a disposable nappy and not felt bad about it, although I’m now regretting buying those disgusting Huggies pullups. You look much better in a Bitti Brite.
You’ve developed a love of music, both with That Blinking Xylophone, your Mozart cube, and the piano. You ask for “PAN-O!” all the time, I lift you onto the stool, and stand behind to make sure you don’t fall off. You like the twelve-bar blues, and you can make high and low and loud and quiet sounds if I ask you.
You’ve also decided that you like to look at books, thank goodness: I was beginning to worry that you were swapped at birth! Your favourite “book” is the Green Baby AW2010 trade catalogue, and you’ll sit and look at it for hours. I’m glad we’re branching away from “That’s Not My…” now, although you still like That’s Not My Dinosaur and That’s Not My Monkey. Your speech is coming on in leaps and bounds alongside the reading, and you’ve learned so many new words I can’t write them all down here. Wily has been renamed “Dog”, Snowball is “Bo-baw”, and Eric is still “EH-RH!”
Food! Food has been so, so much better. You eat pretty much everything unless it’s slimy, and we’re still having a bit of a vegetable battle. You managed to bring yourself to put baby spaghetti hoops in your mouth the other night, and you have a new favourite food: pizza! A couple of months ago you wouldn’t have touched melted cheese, never mind wolfing down an entire M&S kids’ pizza. You get excited if I get one out of the freezer and cross when I put it in the oven. You also love grapes, and yoghurt-coated raisins, and garlic bread, of course. Oh, and Daddy’s beer.
You’ve developed a cheeky streak this month, and a love of flushing things down the toilet. These things have included pens, Duplo people, and toilet roll! You grin when we dare to tell you off, and it’s so, so hard to keep a straight face unless you’ve done something like bite somebody. (Yeah, please can we quit that?)
That’s it from me this month, I think.
I love you, toddler-boy. Stay like this, please?
Love,
Mummy (and the evil Daddy who puts you in disgusting disposable nappies, but he’ll still cry when he reads this.)
Have you entered the View From The Window competition yet? I’m giving 50p for every entry to charities working with earthquake victims in Haiti, and you could win a £20 Snapfish voucher for prints and photo gifts. The competition closes tomorrow (2oth January) so hurry up!
“David, would you like a chocolate button?”
“Yes!”
“What do you say?”
“Button?”
“Pardon?”
“BUTTON! BUTTON! BUTTON!”
“Button please?”
“Thanks!”
I know that David is only twelve (nearly thirteen) months, but he’s talking well and he’s bright enough to start learning to say please and thank you now. Chocolate buttons are a brilliant bribe.
