Tuesday, 2 June 2015

18 months? Oofda.

So, Wonky, you're nearly 18 months old and the time is not only flying, it's jet propelled. These regular letters to you were going to be every three months or so. Ten months since the last one, you'll most likely be in school by the time I write the next. It's not for a lack of trying or laziness, it's just that life is so full-on now that you're in the world. Thanks, Elton.

I could try to summarize the time since I last wrote but the resulting summary would need its own  foreword, contents and index. Suffice to say you've earned enough airmiles to visit your new Godfather when or if he finally moves his family to the other side of the world.

Do you know what, Little Miss V, your Mum and I are in awe. We always start with a softener such as "I'm sure all parents say this..." or "obviously we're biased..." but secretly we know they don't and we're not; you're incredible. You're not only Mummy's best girl but THE best girl. Maybe, hopefully, all parents think that.

To spend time with you is a privilege. I count myself so lucky to be your Daddy, to be the recipient of the two arm cuddle, the bannister kisses, the biggest smile; to be the reassurance when you're unsure. To see you tidy away your toys, your books, your clothes before getting out something else to play with is both amazing and at the same time proof of nature, not nurture and certainly not genetics. Maybe it's an early sign of ODC.

Now, I wouldn't be at all superstitious and don't have any time for astrology but it sure is nice to have someone in the house who isn't a Libran. When choosing your clothes:
- "This one?" "No"
- "This one?" "No"
- "This one?" "Yeah"

When returning home:
- "Is this our house?" "No"
- "This one?" "No"
- "This one?" "No"
- "This one?" "Yep"

Never before has a decision been made so quickly. It's a shame your Internet skills are only fledgling, otherwise you'd have saved Mummy and me weeks of recent searching for a restaurant for Friday, a holiday for July and a house forever. For these are our plans. 2015 so far has largely been spent tidying the house for viewings and exhausting daft.ie to arrange some of our own. You take it all in your stride. 1200 kilometres in two days, visiting every nook and cranny of West Cork? No bother. Visit 14 houses in that time and entertain the same questions from numerous estate agents? Easy. Trip over innumerable hidden thresholds as you run around all these empty houses? No tears. Lose Cyril, your beloved red squirrel with you every second since Day Three, somewhere along the way? Well, we don't talk about that.

We've settled on a house and it was one you loved. We hope it's the right one. If it's not, well, we'll move again. Not before we have recovered from the pain of buying in Ireland or the forests have recovered from all the paperwork but if it's not our forever house then we'll find one that is. It'll be a great house for you to show your sister the ropes. 

While we're coming to the end of counting in months and moving on to quarters, halves and wholes for you, we'll soon be counting in days and then weeks again when we welcome her to the world. The final monthly count will be 23: the months between the two of you. Not that we know "it" is a "she" and we won't be finding out before her arrival but every time we ask you if the baby in Mummy's tummy is a brother or sister, you reply "sister". Thinking it's you repeating the last word you heard, you still reply "sister" when asked if it's a sister or a brother. Maybe you don't know what the words mean and like saying sister? Doubt it though we'll know soon enough.

Don't forget that only Mummy has a baby in her tummy; yours is full of milk, mine's around 5% proof.

We read the other day that a two year old should have 25 words. We did a quick count and could think of over 200 that you use. Now, I haven't seen you in 10 hours since leaving for work so the number has most likely grown. However, before you get too far through the dictionary, we need to get you to pronounce your Ls as currently they are silent. This will cause you trouble should you ever want to ask directions to Llanelli and you should probably try to avoid repeating Sunday's episode when trying to say 'clock'. Over and over again. Still, it woke up the congregation.

You know what, Little Loops, we still can't quite believe you are here. I'm not one to indulge in religion or any other form of fiction but with you we are blessed. Not in the biblical or Brian sense but after all that time waiting, we are so lucky  that you are who you are. We could not love you more.

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