sidewalk scribbling

There aren't that many things cuter than your 4-year-old fast asleep in bed, with a basket of cars perched in the middle of his duvet and the recently gifted toy traffic light blinking red, orange and green on his still round cheeks. Z has now reached that stage I used to think about wistfully when patting him back to sleep for the 3rd time in the night - the stage of falling asleep in his own room and then at some point, often after 5am (say what no way!?), padding into our room, holding on to one or four cuddly toys. I lift our duvet and he climbs in next to me, digging his heels into my stomach and then luck dictates whether we get to snooze all cute and cosy for a bit or get elbowed in the face with demands for breakfast, or my phone, which Z loves to record the most absurdly hilarious voice notes on. I know I say it about every age (while also secretly thinking how did I manage the earlier, less independent stage...), but four year olds are pretty great. I can now go for a s...

'Can I have water,' mouths Z at bedtime, for the fifth time, thinking he can get away with it if he whispers and makes his eyes as round as puss in boots. I know the sweet whispers will turn into loud whining if I say anything but yes, so I acquiesce with some dramatic eye rolling. As I watch him twist the bottle open and tilt it up to his face, scrawny and adorable in his space-themed pajamas, I wonder - How did he grow so fast? From that tiny alien-like creature with flaky skin and gummy eyes, whose only activity was to gaze deeply at things within 2 feet, sleep or drink milk, who couldn't even lift his head and only mewl as loud as a tiny lamb ... To this fiery bundle of endless energy and big emotions and bubbling affection and unbridled cheekiness? 'Thank you, your majesty PINK!' he says to me when I pour some milk into his cereal. He loves adding the word pink to things and says it in this really teasing voice that I find funny because I'm biological...

'I'm sorry I hit you with a spoon', Z looks apologetic just seconds after banging a teaspoon on my knuckle as I take him out of his highchair and plop him on the floor. My fingers are still smarting so I don't reply. 'I love mama and baba', he says a minute later, playing with his cars. He looks up at me: 'Please can I love mama and baba?' I consent to the love and all is well again. Every few months I think exactly the same thing: this boy is so smart! how did he learn to say so many things?  ... every stage seems to outshine the last one (good thing I've got these blogs to refer back to!). And truth be told, I always thought the chunky baby stage was the best but despite the terrifying meltdowns and infuriating battles over nappy changes and the NO WE DO NOT HIT mantra that keeps on going, I think almost 3 year olds are so amazing. I can now actually take a quick shower while he plays independently - granted I'll keep the door open but STILL! T...

  How cute does your baby look when he’s kicking you with a ferocity more suited to an action hero than an 11-month-old as you sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star at an increasingly higher pitch, trying to button up his onesie before he somersaults and tries to crawl off the bed?   Nothing like an almost-toddler to test your dexterity and creativity at the same time, especially in those 10 minutes before bedtime. Z becomes a total loonytoon around 6 pm since he detests naps and is so exhausted by early evening he’s almost delirious.  The strangest things will set him laughing like a cartoon villain and the most minor error will lead to a dramatically sorrowful bow on the ground, forehead pressed to his chunky little hands and tiny bum in the air.   After spending several minutes bent double, walking His Tiny Lordship (HTL) around the living room, if I dare request a sit down (for both him and me), there will follow a comical duck pout, stiffening of said litt...