One of the biggest changes that have occurred in the last X months, other than my little fella turning into a big boy before my very eyes, is that he’s started talking. He can now hold a conversation, particularly if it involves the ‘n-word’, for example:

Archer: *Grunt, grunt*
Me: Archer, is there a poo in your nappy?
A: No…*Grunt*
Me: Are you sure?
A:………No.

and,

Me: Are you ready to get out of the bath?
A: No.
Me: You want to stay in a bit longer?
A: No. *Megawatt smile*

and my favourite,

Me: Would you like a banana Archie?
A: No.
Me: An apple?
A: No.
Me: An Iced VoVo?
A: *Megawatt smile*

The fact that Archer has neither seen, nor heard of an Iced VoVo doesn’t matter, because he has a radar in his brain that detects sugar in foods or in the names of foods.

All this talking business is more fun than I could have thought, with him popping out new words just about every day. Although I have a vague recollection of someone telling me that having a strong little personality verbally asserting his opinions all day long poses certain… new challenges? I can’t imagine what they could possibly have meant…

Everyone tells you how fast it goes by. One minute you think you’ve got a newborn and sleep deprivation forever and the next minute they are up and walking, and running away from you when it’s time for ‘nigh nighs’ or a nappy change.

Milla woke at 6am this morning which is unusual since I have been lucky enough to get some 8am sleep-ins and when I asked her if it was because she got cold in her bed she replied, “No, hot!” and she pretended to cool herself down by blowing on her tummy like we blow on her cereal.
This was a huge reminder to me to really make the most of my little darling, all the stages she is going through, including the challenging parts, and just soak it all up as much as I possibly can.

I feel like they are already ganging up on me and that this is only the start. Funny, as much as I understand Squirm she never seems to say what Wrigglebot claims but surely he can’t be manipulating me already, can he?

Anyways… Squirm will be two at the start of next year and is becoming very much a girl. Now I always knew she was a girl, obviously, but her interests and characteristics are becoming a lot more defined now and it has me just a little scared. When I was growing up, and even now to some degree, my sister and I had a definite aversion to those we labelled girlie girls. We loved adventures, getting dirty, being good at sports and being hardcore (don’t know whether we had that word back when I was a kid but you know what I mean.) We ridiculed girls who screamed, who couldn’t catch a ball, who had to wear the best brands and wouldn’t get dirty. We were ruthless in our mocking, just between ourselves of course, and now I am scared.

Squirm got new shoes and needs to point them out to everybody, she loves hair clips and carrying around a bag, she loves her teddy and babies, she likes to put on a dancing dress and dance around the loungerooom, she can’t stand to have dirt or food on her hands or feet. All of these things she has done without any prompting, unless Nanna is secretly training her behind my back to get revenge for all those years when I wouldn’t wear those ‘cute’ outfits, which is a possibility. And so I worry about how I can possibly relate to this little princess, but then I see her following around her brother, playing with cars, lying on her belly lifting up rocks to find earwigs, pretending to be a dinosaur, playing catch and then I can breathe again, it is going to be alright. Girls can have dolls and dance and be dinosaur bug catches too, I hope so anyway.

I first noticed it when he seemed to be chewing a couple of hours after we had finished dinner. Horrified I asked him what he was chewing, sure that he had raided the fridge or pantry without permission, ‘Cous cous’ he replied, he had finished his cous cous two hours ago. He then said that he had meat in his tummy that he could bring into his mouth. I must admit here that I felt both disgusted and a little bit proud at the same time, however we did instigate a new rule that food has to stay in your tummy and not be brought back to your mouth.

Every now and then I’ll still catch him chewing hours after eating and have to remind him, but part of me wonders whether I am denying him the ability to perfect his superpower after all not everybody can be a regurgitator.

All Wrigglebot’s paintings are not finished until all the paint is mixed together to make that classic pooey brown colour over the entire page. He did two of his own and then insisted on helping Squirm to finish hers properly. The end result being that I have three pooey brown paintings hanging in my front hallway that I’m trying to pretend are masterpieces, but they’re not.

By bedtime he was completely exhausted and his bed was getting more crowded by the minute as he wanted all of his birthday presents in his bed. We eventually compromised and put some things such as his scooter and tool box beside his bed but drew the line at the trampoline and his new goldfish. This was all well and good until 5:45 in the morning. The house was still pitch black and I heard a thud into our bedroom door. I turned on the light and saw Wrigglebot there on his scooter having ridden it all the way in the dark from his bedroom. I let him ride it back to his room as I explained that it was still sleep time, his goldfish were still asleep and so was everybody else.

When he did get up at a reasonable hour we let him play by himself in the loungeroom until he started calling, ‘Mummy’ incessantly so I dragged myself out of bed to investigate. He was standing on a chair pulled up to his fish bowl. ‘Look Mummy’ he said proudly as I anxiously scanned for a sign of one of the two fish. Eventually I looked where he was pointing and there was the fish lying calmly in Wrigglebot’s little trailer attached to a little tractor. I quickly flipped the fish back into the bowl and it swam away and I began explaining that fish have to stay in water or else they die.

I think what amazed me most was his dexterity. I don’t think I could have caught a fish with my bare hands and made it lie in a trailer and yet he did. It makes me almost proud of him almost killing the fish, almost anyway.