It seems I’ve blinked and all of a sudden we have a mini toddler in our midst. A really nearly one-year-old. And she is just brilliant at this age; a complete and utter joy. I do a lot of looking at her, wondering where this tiny little constantly moving creature emerged from. She’s full of wonder at the world, and I still can’t quite get my head around the fact we get to keep her.
It’s been a significant few months; walking, kind of talking, starting nursery. It must be so difficult when your whole waking life you’ve had 100% mummy time all the time, but she’s getting used to it, and there’s only a few tears at drop-offs and she’s her normal smiley self at home.
She’s also all about her dad (dad, dada, dadad, and endless variations of). When she hears Alex come in from work she’ll start shouting ‘dada’ and leaps towards the door for a cuddle. I don’t want to descend into soppy sentimentally, but it makes my heart melt. Dada is also pretty much the catch-all word for most things too – the park, her books, the lady behind the counter in the supermarket. Although she is pretty stingy with her mamas, she has learned to point to my chest and say ‘baab’ or ‘babab’ when she wants milk; I can’t see me getting my boobs back any time soon.
And yes it’s the big things, the steps and the words, but it’s also the little things I love: batting away food she doesn’t fancy, her new favourite game of pushing the ducks in the bath, loving books, the ‘psschoo’ sound she makes when she’s thinking, putting her arms up when we say ‘arms up please’. And a swaying game she likes to play when sat on my lap that makes her laugh and laugh.
She’s pretty mischevious, and randomly figured out how to tap the TV box to turn channels over, always leaving it on an Irish religious radio station or British Forces FM – but only if we’re watching her do it. She loves crawling round the house clutching a sock (and she likes to pretend to help hang up the washing but is really looking to grab something she can make off with).
I want to freeze time, but obviously I can’t; and I guess this is my way of encapsulating her right now, as we are, teetering on the brink of her first whole number.