Just only one
well, one or two …
there is so much she says and does that makes me brim over with happiness … of course there is the odd, very odd, time that a stroppy paddy or extreme dawdling has caused me to sigh but, 99.99999% of the time she makes me content, happy, joyful and overwhelmed with love … yup, I know I’ve become a sentimental fool, but I make no bones about it; I am and I constantly feel so very blessed.
Where was I? Ahh yes, things she says and does … generally reflective of her increased self awareness and exuberant confidence, and now, so so often I hear thing she says and flinch or smile thinking, “whoops she sounds like me” or just hearing myself or my words coming back from her.
Sometimes funny, other times very assertive and frequently reflective and showing great empathy here are a few of the Hopeisms that have touched me over recent weeks;
“wait, Mummy, wait second, don’t move there, back in some second”
“still Mummy, don’t move a croissant” when she wanted me to stand still so she could sneak up and hug me and meant “don’t move a muscle”
When I offer her a raspberry / prawn / piece of cheese / slice of ham / yoghurt, carrot etc “Just only one Mummy, just only one”
When I asked her who she played with that afternoon, “Just only me and Bella, Mummy just only us three, Hope and Bella”
When I tell her we have to go out or it’s time for lunch, “no, you stay there, I’m busy”, “Wait a second dhaaling” (I blame her Godmother for the latter)
She calls my iPad her “HaPaaah” and knows how to do things on it that baffle me (and she only plays with it once every few weeks)
She calls her elbow her “hobo”
When we had some Indian food the other night she announced she wanted more “crocadile” and pointed at the tarka dal
On the climbing frame in the park after she climbed the wobbily ladder she went to walk across the steel and wood bridge structure, she jumped up and down, there was no ‘bounce’, she looked perplexed and explained to her Daddy that the bridge was “Not wobbily, batteries ran out”
She goes to little dance classes and loves them. She practises little routines to “Wind the Bobbin Up” infront of her music DVD, and rehearses her dance class skip with her head up and her hands on her hips just like her teacher.
She is determined to hop on one foot and holds onto legs, tables, chairs and tries and tries … just yesterday she managed 4 hops unaided and you should have seen the glee.
She has superb hand eye co-ordination, and can aim and throw a ball well, from time to time catches if a ball is bounced or thrown to her and loves acting like a small Harlem Globetrotter and dribbling her Micky Mouse ball up and down the corridor.
We’re not really potty training, just seeing how we go:
Me: “have you done a poo?”,
Her: “yes Mummy”
Me: “ok shall we go and change your nappy?”
Her: “no Mummy, don’t worry Mummy, it’s just only a poo, only just one small poo”
and in early September we had the first poo in a potty which had to be examined minutely and proudly shown to Granby … there have been a few since but as I say, having seen children on timers being swept away from playgroup to rush and poo or wee every 15 minutes and seen the upset and consternation they felt, I don’t want that for Hope … maybe in time if our more toddler-led approach fails but for now some days it works and other days she just isn’t in the mood and happily insists on wearing a nappy.
She’s shown tremendous empathy of late, taking care of her Granby when she’s been under the weather and since she saw me having an injection in hospital the other week she’s been using the syringe the Consultant gave to her (minus needle clearly) on me if I ever say my knee hurts or I am tired, “to make it all better Mummy”
We’re still breastfeeding, lots in the morning and lots at bed time and on and off at night and from time to time during the day, especially if she hurts herself or is upset, she finds such comfort and delight in her “milky moments”.
We saw a dead pigeon the other day, under the hedge on a walk, she looked at it and wondered what was wrong:
Her: “Pigeon sick Mummy?”
Me: “no bunny, it’s very sad, the pigeon is dead”
Her: “poor pigeon. Give it milky Mummy, milky make it all better”, lifting my top, “Mummy quick give it milky”
Me: “Oh dear Bunny …” followed by explanation about nature of death and the general inability of a pigeon to breastfeed …
I love how highly she holds the healing powers of breast milk!
and finally … on the subject of breast milk, we were having a lazy loll the other week and she was playing with her favourite toys and blowing raspberries on my tummy and then pretending they were blowing raspberries on my tummy too, then she dived on me and had a huge great slurp of milky, she gave her toys a turn at having some milky and then looked at me, “have some milky Mummy? You want some?”, before I could answer she said, “open wide”, took another great slurp and before I knew what was happening I had a whole mouth full of my finest breast milk and a fair old bit of drool, “there you go Mummy, milky for you, yummy, and she carried on her game.
So … there you have it, no just one, not even, as she would say, “only just one” story but lots … things have been busy of late and I haven’t had time to write much, but I’ve been storing them all up, and the joy it gives me just looking back at some of this now when it’s still fresh in my mind is great, so many things I’d already forgotten, it’ll be wonderful to share it all with her when she’s older, and for me to look back on.
… and the .000001% of the time when she didn’t make me smile, she reminds me of the little girl, with the little curl, right in the middle of her forehead … apparently I was like that too … when I was bad I was horrid … not that I really think a child of 2 3/4 really can be bad, but she’s had a few episodes of pushing friends or hitting me … which she always reflects on, tells somebody about, and then comes to discuss with me. So even then, she still makes my heart sing, and the urge to calm her and ease her angst is all the greater.
Right then, a mountain of washing to be done, a dishwasher to load and unload, a burnt pan to scrub and a paperwork mountain to get through before I can creep in to bed.