Wednesday, October 12, 2016

My Sunshine


I'm savouring these last days together while it's just the two of us, before the (gorgeous) craziness of life with a newborn and (gulp) three other kids hits.

You are, as you have been since you were born, my delight and my joy.

You make me laugh and smile a dozen times a day - more- and it is impossible to resist giving you big hugs and a plentitude of kisses.

You are also incredibly cheeky, and stubborn, and you have very clear ideas about just about everything. Shoes should be on. As should hats. Doors should be shut. Playgrounds are the best thing ever and should never be passed without stopping. Baths are infinitely superior to showers. But a shower beats no water at all.

You still spend a lot of your day in water - you start the day with a shower with your daddy (after we go through the shower vs bath conversation) then a shower with me (again, after the shower vs bath convo) sometime during the day you generally cover yourself in something so you have a bath, and then you have a bath in the evening with your big sister. Despite all this, you are generally covered in pen as you have an uncanny knack for finding them and covering yourself in 'art.' Since you started dragging chairs around nothing is safe.

You still aren't talking a lot - your sentences tend to lack the joining words. "No, Mama! Stay! Bath. Swim. Shoo!" Is you telling me you don't want to get out of the bath, you want to stay in the bath and swim. Begone, evil removalist from glorious water.

You loll and float and giggle in the bath with delight and no trace of fear. You also love making big splashes by standing up and then throwing yourself down again. You would stay in the bath most of the day if I let you.

Your sister taught you your first 'proper sentence' this week. "I did it."

And it's true, if we're talking about smearing the window with sunscreen, covering the wall/ones person with nutella, tipping shampoo over your sister's bed, you did do it. However, I suspect your sister of nefarious designs to get you to admit to wrongdoings that are not your own... Much as you adore your big sister now, I have worries about your future relationship...

And it is a delight to see how much you love your big sister and how much she loves you. Your face lights up with sheer joy when I tell you that it's time to go get May-May - which is your name for her - and you run to the front door. You greet each other with a big hug and throughout the day you swap hugs and kisses. You look mournfully out the window, calling for her plaintively, when she leaves to play with the other kids in the street.

Your joy, in general is enchanting. You are enthusiastic about so much. Yesterday I gave you some celery and the way you said "Oh! Wow!" as if it were a magic wand made me smile so much.
Seriously, celery? I like it, but I've never thought of it as 'o, wow!' material.

But you show the same delight about putting on your shoes, or a hat, or finding a leaf or a rock or the perfect stick.

You aren't clingy with your daddy or I, but if you see that we're going out you always come over with your arms outstretched demanding a hug, and then you wave and say 'bye', and go back to what you were doing. When you see us again you always come running, yelling 'mummy, mummy' or 'daddy, daddy' with extravagant joy, again with outstretched arms, knowing you'll be swept up for another big hug.

You and our dog spend a large part of the day together, and he is incredibly patient. You fall off the couch on to him and he looks vaguely puzzled. You curl up together. You run around the garden together. I entice you home to see 'Woo-Woo' and you worry about him if we're away from home too long. If we're in the supermarket you remind me to get 'Woo-woo' his food. You're not so happy when he runs off with all your teddies and dolls and takes them to his domain in the back garden, but you've learnt to cleverly entice him out and then slide the back door shut if you want to play with your toys in the living room without him pilfering them.

You love the idea of 'helping' and I can't try to sweep without you firmly taking the broom from me saying  'Help'. Nor can I cook, without you dragging a chair over to 'help.' It takes four times as long, but... it's still nice to have you close.

You're still nursing (and not at all keen on the idea of sharing the milk with your soon-to-be-born-sister) but you keep forgetting how sharp your teeth are and I keep ending up with teeth marks. I am hoping your little sister will feed less painfully. You are not quite as bad about trying to turn summersaults while feeding as your brother and sister were...

You adore the weed veggie patch and could sit in it for hours, transferring dirt from one container to the other. You also like to sneak containers of dirt into the house - because dirt, what could be more fun?

You seem to have been designed in every way to be adorable. (Possibly to distract from your inventive destructiveness...) From the enthusiasm in your voice, the intonation as you say 'O yeah',  to the way you put your arms around our neck, press your cheek to ours, want to swap kiss after kiss.

I might be a little distracted in the coming weeks, but you will always be my joy and my delight. May you always be so joyful, so enthusiastic, so loving, so bold and brave and determined. 

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