living arrows 28 & 29/52
July 21, 2014 by Jenni Clutten | 2 Comments
Your determination and spirit make me so proud. You have a thirst for learning, taking everything in with all your senses, you do nothing by halves. You can pull up to standing and drag yourself across a room, just with the strength in your arms. It was a bit of a killer last week, as you have only taken cat naps before wanting to explore more. You fall asleep in my arms full to the brim with milk, I wait and carefully transplant you to your cot before I exhale. Then, as I quietly race down the stairs and turn to the kitchen, I place my fingers on the kettle. I hear your call and return back to my place on the sofa where you promptly fall asleep, I remain stuck underneath you. Sometimes it makes me frustrated, there are just so many things to be done, but other times I just stare down at you knowing that tomorrow your hair will be longer, your eyes will be bigger and I won’t be able to get yesterday back.We laugh daily at your theatrical nature, recounting your version of events with your eyes, words and body. I cherish our little chats, especially as you start to remember friends and family and understanding the passing of time. I told you the story of little red riding hood from my memory a few weeks ago and you often ask ‘story mummy’. The story has changed quite a lot now, but the current version involves Nye, who is bringing a buzzby cake to his grandma, the wolf steals it, Grandad says ‘shoo away wolf’, then he says sorry and has tea and cake. When not chatting, you are ‘making cakes’ in the mud outside, offering out stones and rolling out play dough. It’s safe to say you like cake!
Water plays a major part in our life, it is always such a great way of keeping you happy. You make up your own games and sing songs, making up tunes and words if you can’t quite remember them. You love to splash yourself and shock yourself with the cold water, screaming out with joy. Today you sang humpty dumpty like we do at your swimming lessons and jumped into the bucket. You so want to splash that you jump in when you sing ‘wall’ because you can’t wait for the ‘fall’. A blissful moment of silence in what has been an exhausting week. I barely dared to press the shutter to capture you, terrified that I would disturb you. You continue to grow up, strong, enquiring and happy (when you’re not causing havoc by refusing to settle in your cot). You are most vocal at the dinner table. When the food runs out, or others are eating without you, you crumple your nose up and inhale and exhale deeply to show your dissatisfaction with the situation. You do it so often now that Nye does impressions of you, laughing to himself saying ‘Evie talking’.