A year ago today I wrote this post about my little guy. He wasn’t even two yet, and it was so nice to go and relive the memories from the year before. And also see how much he has changed. Hopefully I can remember to write a post like this every year, just collecting my absolute favourite things so I’ll never forget. So here’s Things I Love About You #2…
I love how your hair is always a mess. Your granny will brush it down, but every time you’re back with me I ruffle it up again. It’s hardly long hair but you go for a nap and you wake up with a bird’s nest every time. For me, you don’t look like you without messy hair.
I love how animals are your life. Not in the veterinary sense. But in the I-have-an-obsession-with-plastic-animals sense. You go through phases and favourites. You pick a selection to take around with you every day and it’s a very exact process, God forbid I chuck an extra cow in.
And to this end, while it makes my brain bleed, I do kind of love that your favourite song is Old MacDonald Had a Farm. E-I-E-I-bloody-O.
I also recognise a singing voice there Bill. I love that. It excites me.
I love this weird excited voice that you and Mark do together. It’s not even something I can put into words, but it’s the way you get each other giddy over things: “Shall-we-go-the-park, yeaahhhhhhhh?!” Always ends with a “yeaaaahhhh” and also with me cracking up at you both.
I love how every time you do a wee in the toilet or the potty it’s a “big one”.
I love how able you are. You stroll up to the toilet, pull out your step, lift up the seat, go and flush the toilet. You fetch me milk or other items from the fridge. You stir mixing bowls. Match socks. It’s not just having a little helper which rocks, it’s just that awe-inspiring moment when you realise that your child is doing it. On his own.
I love your profile. I always will. You’re gorgeous to me. But when you’re concentrating – I just melt. Shiny bright blue eyes. Slightly pouted lips. A furrowed brow. You are just lovely.
I love how you tell me off. How you tell everyone off. It’s always: “That’s not fair!” “I don’t like *enter word here* ANYMORE!” “No Mama, you is a naughty-cheeky girl.” “Mama, you go in the naughty corner!” We don’t even use the naughty corner in our house. I’m not even sure where that’s come from!?
I love how you learn how I do. I recognise that. We both have scarily accurate memories. And we are both great with words and expression. And terrible at numbers. Number four doesn’t really exist in our house.
To that end, I love it when we get out Balloonia or Zebedee’s Zoo, and you can pretty much recite every page from memory. Mark and I get so giddy and our pride shines out of our faces in our big smiles.
I love your fondness for your red wellies.
I love how, every time you go to the shops with your grandparents, you convince them to buy the cats some ‘kitty-cat treats” (that’s what you call them, so now, so do we).
I love that you always want to do things with me. “Mama, will you play with me?” “Mama, can I help?”
I love how, every time I serve dinner, Mark has taught you to say thank you. And you’ll both rub your tummies and go on about how yummy it is. Even when it’s leftovers from the freezer because I forgot to order our food shop.
I love how, when I ask you if you want to do something or not, you invariably answer with “or not.” Cheeky.
I love how mayonnaise is ‘naynaise’.
I admit, I really do love it when you tell me I’m “so pwetty”, all of your own will. It makes me feel it. And blush.
I love that, just like last year, you are still the clumsiest individual I know, next to myself.
I love how, every time we hug, you go: “Mmm, huggy-huggy my mama!”
I love how you like to know our thoughts on things. You now know that my favourite animal is a penguin. And Mark’s is a dog. And that Mark likes peppers best. And I like broccoli best. And that yes, Bill, everyone likes cake.
I love how you truly believe that cucumbers are like toast and that they have crusts, which you won’t eat. No matter how many times Mark demonstrates him eating the whole thing.
I love Teddy, just as much as you do. And I love how much he means to you too. And how sometimes you’ll call him “Teddy Boy” because I do.
I love how hilarious you are. You are really something else. Like the High Five Cat incident from last weekend.
I love that you’ve got a thing about rules. You’re quite good at picking up right and wrong, and while you push boundaries, you’re incredibly conscientious.
I love that, when I catch you doing something naughty, like trying to open the back door in the conservatory, you jump, drop the keys, and rush over and go: “Oh hi Mama! Oh I love you Mama!” When I’m hearing in undertones is: “Shit! She caught me. Please don’t tell me off.” You bugger. It bloody works!
You know something Bill? You aren’t perfect. But, one thing you have taught me is that it probably makes me love you more, because I accept that you will never stop hiding my things, or ripping up packaging like a dog. It’s part of who you are.
And to be honest, I wish there were more people like you. Except that’s impossible. You’re truly one-of-a-kind.