I haven't posted one of my monthly letters to Jamie recently. However; I was just looking through my posts from last January, and I found my letter to Jamie there, with the photos of what he was doing that month. And I got all nostalgic! So here goes...
“Mummy goyak!” I hear these words four or five times a day. It’s music to my ears. Yes, I think that you are toilet trained. You are now the proud owner of those “big boys’ Cars jocks” that were your motivation behind getting to the toilet each time.
You loved Christmas this year. You totally understood about Father Christmas and presents. You pored over toy catalogues beforehand and pointed out all the things that you'd like Father Christmas to bring you. You weren't afraid of Father Christmas this year. You marched straight up to him, pulled out your Thomas brochure and proceeded to point out all the toys you'd like. We were quite stunned. Father Christmas was tickled pink. Or red. Or white. Or whatever.
This month we started swimming lessons. You are not impressed though. I thought you would love it, after seeing how you took to the pool at the Gold Coast when we were on holidays. But you haven't enjoyed it at all. Yesterday we had your third lesson and you sobbed the whole way through it. I think it's a combination of the loudness of the pool, the strangeness, and the fact that I can't come in the pool with you. But, gradually, you are becoming familiar with the feel of the water, and you are learning to kick your legs and to blow bubbles and all the things that are going to make Mummy feel a lot more relaxed whenever we're near the water in the future.
We are all lined up to start with a speech pathologist next week. You talk constantly. In fact, Daddy and I hardly have a chance to speak to each other any more. As soon as we talk, you do too. I find myself having to yell at your father, just to have a conversation.
It's not that you don't have manners. Because you do. Your manners are fantastic. You always use please and thank you. But I do think we'll have to start concentrating on not interrupting conversations and using your "excuse me" this month.
Your words are gradually becoming clearer, but it's still quite difficult to understand you, so I'm glad that we're finally getting to see the speechy. Although, I quite like your special words. I will miss them when you learn to say them correctly! Some that I can think of, off the top of my head:
Bibber-dicker (whipper snipper)
In fact, thinking back, you had me completely stumped when I first heard you say "kangapoo". I think it was because you were sitting on the toilet at the time. All of a sudden you started to carry on about a kanga poo. I thought it was something to do with going to the toilet! Wrong! Completely unconnected. I love how your mind jumps from one topic to the next.
That's the lovely thing about you talking more and more: I get to see how you are thinking. And it's delightful. On Friday night, coming home in the car from childcare you told me that you were going to make tea for daddy when we got home. I asked you what you were going to make him. "Botatoes, caldower, bocli, darrots" you informed me. Vegetables, I exclaimed! Lovely! And then you continued "and birfday dake and choclet dake". Wow! What a meal. Lucky Daddy!
You make us laugh with your funny things you say. You are not averse to a bit of drama. When we lose something, whenever something goes wrong like, God forbid, you should drop your cards or your bike should come up against an obstacle, you exclaim: "Oh No! What we gonna do? What we gonna do Mum?!!!" You throw your hands up in the air "What we gonna DOOOO?!!" Occasionally you throw in an extra bit of drama and slap your knee with a mournful shake of the head...
You are loving to sing at the moment. I hear you frequently, as you burst spontaneously into song. “Jingle Bells”, “Old MacDonald’s Farm” and several others that I don’t know – you must have learnt them at Childcare. The words are still a lot of babble, but the tune is unmistakeable!
The other thing we hear a lot at our house is "I do it!" You are very independent. I find myself constantly fighting a battle in my head between letting you learn to do things and helping you become more independent, and doing things for you just so that we get places on time and actually get something done! Having a child is teaching me patience because you only have one speed. And it tends to be a rather slow, drifting speed...
If you have nothing better to say, you'll just say "Mum?" Nothing else. "Mum?" And if I don't respond (which I learnt early on was not a necessity), you keep repeating it "Mum?". It does my head in some days.
And then, just for something different, there's the question: “Mummy, where’s Jak?” Over and over and over. Sigh.
You have become a bossy britches too. This morning daddy was sitting in the armchair watching TV. You piped up from your spot at the kitchen table, where you were eating breakfast "Daddy, you CAN'T sit on that couch. That's MY couch!" And then, when Daddy didn't appear to respond you repeated it "Daddy, you CAN'T sit on that couch. That's MY couch! Daddy, you CAN'T sit on that couch. That's MY couch! Daddy!!" Of course, it's not your couch. It just happens that yesterday you and I sat there to read your new books I'd borrowed from the library. So, now it's your couch.
You amuse me. You make me laugh. You make me glad to be your mum.