24 June 2012: baby update - new words

Oh sweet baby. How quickly you are growing and learning.

You are walking now. I've just noticed it today. You are very well balanced. I miss your wobbly toddle. But I'm very happy you are developing your physical skills.

Your capacity to learn is awe-inspiring. You learned many new words this weekend, possibly just today!

Car,
Bottle,
Cockerel,
Crap,
Shit,

You learned 'teeth' the other week, but I didn't note when.

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How you manage to time your demands on me is extraordinary. Just at the moment I begin to take my first bite of breakfast, or at the moment I begin to take my last bite of my meal - you demand my attention. Extraordinary. It's been this way since you were born. When you grow out of this phase, will I miss it? I don't know.

I want to help you. I want you to be able to become independent. I'd like you to stop making a mess please.

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In any case, I enjoyed watching you 'cook'. I watch in wonderment. You know the correct way to hold the spice shaker to shake it into your cooking! You have been very observant, or else daycare has taught you very well.

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I'd like to have the pleasure of teaching you cooking skills. My current idea is involving you in baking, or pancake making, each week. Something easy. Right now, I'm thinking Mini Gingerbread Cakes - makes 24 and you can take it to daycare to share. The most time consuming bit of this recipe is getting rid of the lumps in the batter but not over mixing.

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Why do you continue to want to eat off my plate? It's the exact same food as on yours, though we have very carefully and lovingly cut up the pasta into bite-sized pieces for you. Yet you insist on pinching one long spaghetti from my plate and stuffing it into your mouth. If it wasn't so impolite, it would be adorable. It's very hard not to snicker at the messy spectacle. Dada is no help at maintaining a stern disapproving face.

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You can be greedy, can't you? Or else I have forgotten the thinking processes of being a kid. You stuff your gob full of food, fill your right hand with food, fill your left hand with food, and nonchalantly slip off your chair to make a perimeter walk of the house. Oh no you don't. New rule for this growing baby: food belongs in the dining room.

Ugh! Such a ruckus and rumpus! Gnashing of teeth! Food falling every which way in your despair.

Curiously, perhaps thankfully, you have mainly exhibited anguished wailing to relieve your frustration. The next milestone I ought to expect is angry tantrums, yeah?

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I think Dad and Mum now understand why their parents keep coming up with new rules for kids.