Reading

He's loved books since he was able to sit up unaided, but it's looking like my 2-and-a-bit year old is definitely following in the footsteps of his readaholic mother. Tonight, reading 'Baby Bear, Baby Bear, what do you see?', he waited til I'd finished reading and then said 'Teo do it.' He then proceeded to turn page after page, pausing and saying 'What see?' at each page.

Snow

Son, two years old, tentatively walking through snow in our garden. Spots snow on top of his shoes - 'oh no! oh no!', crying etc.

So he's half-Australian (semi-tropical Australian, not snowy Victorian, but I'm full Australian and even I say 'wtf child!? '

The nursery praises his 'advanced language' and good manners, but I get this:

'Away, Mama.'
'You want me to go away?'
'Far away.'

Working

So, as a part-time working mother, I find myself envious of the social lives of both mothers who are at home full-time, and women working full-time. But I know it would be worse if I worked full-time!

Parenting fail

Tolerating...

My little non-walker (almost, almost!) hasn't had much need for shoes in the 19 months of his life so far. Or much tolerance, but he's now wearing these cool soft shoes sent by his friends Nicholas, Teresa and Dan very willingly indeed! Treesie, they are well scratched up - a good sign!

No respect for Australia's native animals

Wondering why the cockatoo looks rather shocked, and the kangaroo vaguely pleased? The cockatoo used to have two feet and a whole wing, while Kanga and her joey have so far escaped the Jaws of Toddler.

Well done Mattie boy. Reconsidering letting you loose in Australia Zoo later this year.

Bookworm

Upon arriving home from nursery and being freed from the restraints of his buggy (after bedtime, mind you), Matteo heads for the lounge and buries himself in a book.

I did not even think to hope that when Matteo was only 18 months old, sometimes we would catch each other's eye and both burst out laughing.

This kid is just gifted with so much joy. He could probably use a little help with the spoonwork though...

Spring has well and truly sprung...

(and now it's almost summer)

So I guess we are his real parents

He has his daddy's ears, down to the finest detail. And one tiny circular indentation on the top of each ear, just like me.

Why I love my son's nursery

Apart from all the practical stuff like it being in the grounds of where I work, reasonable fees, great staff etc etc etc...

I dropped him off one day last week and opened the door to the 'baby room' (3-18 months) to find all the older babies sitting in little chairs in little rows with a big alphabet chart in front of them, and the staff singing the alphabet song. The kids all had shakers or bells or noisemakers of one kind or another and were having a ball.

I wish I'd had my camera. Even though I would have to get the permission of about a zillion parents to post it here, you need to see how adorable a tiny little class of tiny little students is!

Because not much has happened since I last posted

except:

• I went back to work 3 days a week at the end of October (will be 4 days from April)
• I have had chronic ideopathic urticaria since a couple of weeks before that (i.e. hives for which no obvious reason can be found) and they persist! This is my fourth bout since I was 16 and every other time they've just gone away after about a year, so, fingers crossed.
• Speaking of which, Matteo just worked out he can cross his fingers. No photos of that, but plenty of others. Weirdly, I took no photos in November, only videos.
  

October 2009

December 2009

January 2010

(good look, that dribbly chin)

February 2010

(he had his ankles crossed in utero, too)

March 2010

Life is good.

And my husband thought I took too many photos of my nephew...

Maybe he's a little bit more than 50% Italian?

(he's certainly some percentage of psycho ham when it comes to having his photo taken)

Suddenly...

... it all became terrifyingly clear:
his social life was completely dictated by his mother.

The darkness

You know how babies generally like to pull hair?

Well, the baby who lives in our house likes to pull my hair right out by the roots and then examine the strands caught around his tiny fingers. Pleasant.

I'm not proud of this, but the other day I was so desperate to get a few more minutes rest after a mutual nap while he played on the bed (read, pulled on my hair) that I yanked some strands out myself, rolled them into a more or less cohesive clump and gave them to him to play with. Some days I gross even myself out.

I'm thinking of getting him some kind of doll or doll head with long hair, to save my own.

Really?

I can have my own blog when I grow up?

Boy

Time to confess that not only did I want my baby to be a boy due to my adoration of my amazing nephew Harry*, but also because of Fussy and Finslippy. Before I even wanted to have a baby, I'd read about Jackson and Henry and be floored by the cute and the funny and the impossibly articulate.

That's kind of shallow, right? Oh well, he'd be just as awesome as a girl.

Only pinker.

(* I now have another amazing nephew (and godson), Matthew, but I don't know him that well yet.)

The strawberry - a cautionary tale