Dear Little R,
You are at a delightful age. Somehow, you've gone from being able to say "Head cold, hat on please." at the start of the year, to holding complex conversations with us, inventing your own songs, and telling us stories. Your imagination runs wild and every trip round the village is filled with discussion of the things we can see, as well as warnings about all the friendly bears and monsters who are watching us from the hedgerows or chasing us. They're always friendly. And if they're not, a quick cuddle soon sorts them out. Some of our stories have mean characters in. Like Ten-Tonne-Tom, the tiger shark in 'Little Stinker'. He comes swimming in, keen to gobble up the farting little fish. Your solution to the problem is simple. "I will give 'im a BIIIIG cuddle. 'e is 'appy now."
On this rainy afternoon in July you said "Can I put my anorak and my welly boots on a p'ay in the rain?" And why the heck not?! I ADORE that you like rainy days as much as sunny ones. What a great attitude. Us grown-ups should be more like toddlers sometimes.
You're still struggling physically with your initial letters. Most words which should start with "t", start with "f". Thus "train" is "fain" and "tractor" is "fracta". That can be a little alarming. Worse though, is your difficulty in putting an "s" at the start of a word. You can probably imagine how "stick" ends up sounding. So imagine my consternation when you declare loudly on a walk round the village that you have a big one. Say no more! We'll work on it. You practice diligently when we demonstrate how to build the word sounds. We say "t-t-t-TRain". You say "t-t-t-FRain!". Adorable.
Another little quirk you have at the moment is with your grammar. You say "I do don't like that." Usually when discussing an item on your plate that you haven't even licked.
This evening, we were lying on your bed (as we do while you're drifting off to sleep) and you asked me to tell you a story, so I told you one about a day at the beach (since we'd just spent a gorgeous day at Southwold with our good friend Chris). Then we had this intriguing conversation.
I did go to sleep in your tummy when I was small, Mummy.
You did. You even dreamed when you were in my tummy. I wonder what you dreamed about.
... Thomas der kank engine!
Did you?!
Yes. And der was a monshter!
There was a monster?
Yes. It said "Go 'way!" and Thomas said "No!"
He didn't go away?
No.
What happened then?
Der monshter in a little hole.
He hid in a hole? Was Thomas safe then?
Yes 'e was... and den der was a bootiful bear!
Harvesting potatoes. You insisted on wearing "my guvs". (Your Gruffalo gardening gloves)
Yes, it is a delightful age. Even if you have also developed the seriously annoying habit of wailing at a brain-shattering pitch for a REALLY long time when you're tired and want something. You really persevere. This happens several times a day.
You can't watch "somesing on der tewebision"? Wailing.
You're not allowed a "nana lollipop" for lunch? Wailing.
Despite the fact that I NEVER stop the car en route so you can have a comfort feed to go to sleep, you kept the wailing up for about 30 minutes solidly this afternoon. Baby O joined in as well towards the end of the journey, so that Chris and I had shattered nerves and bleeding eardrums by the time we got home. Not the greatest journey ever!
I'm hoping that this persistence will translate in future years to you being a very determined and diligent learner with a great ability to persevere. Willfulness is good if it is well directed!
You reply to "I love you, Little R." with "I love you too." And usually a squishy cuddle.
We do do love you, Little R.
xxx