This series is where I indulgently fill up my pocket of the Internet with the virtual pebbles, receipts and loose change of memories I want to keep of my son.
He’s nearly three and we veer between total gorgeousness and utter chaos. I’m writing this today after he randomly and deliberately decided to upturn a large cup of tea onto the lounge carpet, throw a hard unidentifiable toy object at me in anger and then play ‘sandcastles’ with an almost-but-not-quite empty pot of yoghurt.
Yep, so obviously it’s not all roses and sparkles but actually quite a lot of it is – life is silly and fun and innocent and dramatic and the world hasn’t encroached on our bubble yet.
So my little ‘nearly three’ year old – there are at least 18 million things I think are rather snazzy about you, and they include:
The way you try to hear the sea in seashells, even when you are standing next to the sea
The way you look like the Statue of Liberty in your hair-washing hat (yes we have a hair-washing hat)
The way you enthusiastically introduce yourself to other children, and often adults, with your name, age and full address
Your continued fascination with coins, buttons, and your Swashbuckle jewels – you will play and sort them all into bags, bowls, cement mixers, lorries and buckets for hours
The way you repeatedly ‘hide’ your aforementioned Swashbuckle jewels in testing games of memory and frustration that ensure at least one is actually lost at all times
The way you wave one arm around really, really fast – like a windmill – when you want us to ‘come see’
The way you say things are low down and ‘high down’
Your love of motorbikes but fear of noisy ones
Your fascination with coffee machines despite us not having one and your detailed percolation of the bath water through a series of stacking cups when you make us ‘coffee’ in the bath
Your response to me saying that something/anything drives me up the wall… ‘Topsy & Tim drive you up the wall Mummy’
The way you make ‘jelly’ in your milk (and remind me of being little) by blowing extraordinarily impressive bubbles with your straw
Your love for preschool, your enthusiasm for your ‘preschool friends’ and your back facing me, hand in the air, over the shoulder goodbyes
Your beautiful statements that still take me by surprise of ‘Mummy?…I love you so much’
The way, when you’re recounting something, you say ‘it was a couple of weeks ago now’ or ‘a couple of years ago’ regardless of when ‘it’ actually was
Your go-with-the-flow toddler attitude to life that means you are always open to trying new things and new experiences – I’ve learnt to say ‘yes’ more thanks to you
The way you adore cricket and can reinact specific bowling actions you’ve seen and remember strange scoring rules:
‘how do you score five runs Mummy?’,
‘ummm’ as I try desperately to remember…
‘It’s when the ball hits someone’s hat Mummy.’
Your LOVE of bin lorries and bins – the way you tell us every day what all the different bins outside are; the way you will ‘sort’ toys/clothes/anything you can get your hands on into recycling, glass and ‘normal rubbish’; and the way you ARE a bin:
The random way lobsters feature a noticeable amount in your imaginative play scenarios
The way your ongoing love of clocks has expanded to bells
The way you’ve taken to calling us ‘Mummy Sir!’ and ‘Daddy Sir!’
Your success in your role as the midwife’s assistant; remembering which button to press on the doppler and searching until you find the swoosh: ‘that’s my baby’
The way I’m cherishing our one-on-one time together now and I’m realising that, while I’m sure I’ll learn a whole lot of new things with your sibling, I first learnt to be a Mother with you.