toddlers

A Snapshot of S Aged 2 Years and Nearly 5 Months

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

At the front of our place, there is a wall. It is one of those walls that is there to denote the edge of the property before it becomes council property. It is low – knee height sort of territory – and has four stepped sections as the land slopes towards the train line and the shops and the street at the end. As I use our outside area for outside playtime for girls when I need to – which lately, it seems, is more often than not – I have spent much time on and around that wall. 

Someone doing a longterm time-lapse from the other side of the street would have seen me sitting on the high end, learning how to play with my girls, being pregnant and not pregnant and pregnant and not pregnant and then holding new babies. Walking beside toddlers holding their hands as they brave walking along the wall and then walking beside them just to be there if they took a misstep as they did it “all my byself”.  There have been countless games of ring-a-ring-a-rosy just inside the wall. Millions of bubbles. Girls have learnt how to roll down hills there. I have been a doctor and a patient and a burger shop customer and an ice cream customer and an ice cream store helper. Princess parties happen there. Pretend ambulances blare their sirens as a team of pint-sized paramedics and doctors and nurses attend the apparently-suddenly-injured, fixing broken legs with bandaids and upsets with lollipops. Mermaids swim down the hill. Girls have learnt to scoot. All three girls now race a scooter, a Minnie Mouse ride-on car and a flamingo tricycle down the path then haul their current vehicle back up the top to do it again.

S is in the phase now of wanting to walk on the wall. If I take out my phone to catch a memory of her rainbow sparkly headband matching her rainbow sparkly sandals, or the tiny hairs framing her face being set off in the afternoon sun, or a curl escaping from its hairband, or her little hand holding mine tight, she points her left hand with all the force of an exorcist and growls “NO PHOTOS” so I am forced to take mental snapshots and write down what I can.

“Mummy, help!” “Mummy, hol’ my hand”. “Mummy, BIN MEEEE” (catch me as I jump off and spin me around and around as I look up at you with glee and laughing eyes until you put me down all dizzy). “I walk”. “Mummy, come on!” “I got you”.

Walking confidently, holding my hand. Confidently, yet clutching me tight. Looking for the moon and pointing with excitement when it’s spotted. Brushing hair out of her eyes. Watching trains trundle by or whizz by. Doggies. Waving at most people who are walking past. Making most people who are walking past smile, changing them from downcast, everyday drudgery faces to lighter, happier faces who often smile and say “hello” in return and sometimes even stay for a chat. Approaching each stepped edge of the wall cautiously, left hand coming across to clutch my top as she gingerly steps down and breathes out as she is safe and releases her grip. Arriving at the end of the wall and jumping off, sticking the landing. Looking up at me, half-laughing, as she says, “Mummy, come on!” Laughing to the point of almost falling over as we both run up the hill to do it all again.

S is so, so independent. She is so sure of herself, and advocates for herself and those around her admirably. “I don’t want to eat that”, “Nuh-uh”, “That’s not fair”, “THAT’S MINE”, “My turn”, “You turn”, and so many more phrases, are all heard on a regular basis. She also still apparently feels that, despite her advanced language skills, she often has to stick up for herself by scratching and biting. That aspect I find incredibly challenging to deal with, and E – the usual victim – is getting jack of it. On the upside, though, through her grins in the aftermath she will say sorry, then “You okay? You need ice pack?” So there’s hope yet.

I know she will outgrow the biting and scratching. I hope she does not outgrow sticking up for herself and others. I know she will outgrow elbow dimples and toddler shoulder muscles and plump cheeks and tumbling hair and cautious steps and needing to hold my hand and needing me at all, really, so I am here for all of it, and enjoying the cuddles and the beautiful strong personality that promises to be as forceful as a river.

She’s Only One

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

Is it possible? Surely not. E turns two in less than two weeks. This small person, who takes up so much space in our lives and our hearts, who is showing so much development and growth on new levels every day, who is so capable of so so much – she’s only one.

This small person, who loves drawing and painting but not so much on paper, who will maybe draw a little bit on a scrap of paper before scrunching it up and, preferably, dipping it in any nearby spilled water before sliding it to the floor then dropping all the pencils to the floor while saying ‘uh-oh’ as she watches each one hit the floor. Who will tell me each colour as she chooses it, or asks for it, or hands me the pot or the tube saying ‘blue, lid, o? Peeeeese’ with fists up and out and elbows in. Who consistently goes straight to mixing blue and red then tells me, when I ask, that her favourite colour is pur-pur. 

This small person, who is turning babble and nonsense syllables into understandable sentences. Who has evolved from the very sincere, very dramatic, totally unintelligible streams of sound. Who will now say ‘nigh nigh, wub youuuuu’ or ‘she you layer, love you’ and totally and utterly melt my heart. Who will go to the step ladder and hold its side and say, with a Please Face to rival Bluey, ‘mih?’ (mix), hoping that I will consent to some baking. Who will be dancing at the kitchen entrance, be asked to take C’s water bottle to her, have it handed to her from the freezer, and toddle – that particular toddler movement that is faster than a walk but not quite a run – look down at the bottle in her hands and exclaim ‘ooh, fweezy col!’ Who will spend a good 10 minutes of a post-school-drop-off walk singing out ‘daddyyyyy…. Where are youuuu?’ Or tell me, pointing at daddy’s sofa, ‘daddy were’ (daddy work). Or go to where she thinks I am, exclaim ‘huh!’ when I’m not there and then call ‘mummy…. Where ARE you???’

This small person, who will see that daddy has snacks in the kitchen and she will run away down the hallway to the bedroom while saying, almost to herself, ‘co’ (cot’), coming back to a slightly mystified daddy to put on that Please Face again for some chippies please as she has just put her dummy in the cot, where it belongs. A pant of excitement, ‘dadyou’ (thank you), and toddling off with her cracker or chip or blueberry to sit on one of the child-sized chairs to eat her prize. Who will hand you her finished yoghurt pouch saying ‘hinny’ (finished’) or just go to the kitchen and put it in the bin herself. Who will amaze her daycare teachers by clearing her plate and cup after eating. Who will ask, repeatedly, day after day after day, for ‘ah, ah, oooh?’ Which is, of course, an ice cube? And she will often make sure she has her bowl (‘bo’) for us to fill with ice cubes.

This small person, who will climb onto our bed, or remove a lid, or reach something we thought was out of reach, and exclaim ‘I did it!’ Who will be in the bath and lean out and point to toys and when I get it wrong will say ‘no-no’ and keep pointing to what she wants without getting frustrated until I get it right and she nods excitedly and takes it saying thank you. Who will be holding something and say ‘ready, deddy, gooooo’ and you just have to be aware that she is about to throw and she can really throw and although she often throws down the hallway she sometimes just throws a plastic play picnic plate across the living room to clock you on the nose. 

This small person, who loves loves loves singing and dancing. Who will hear the start of the Encanto! soundtrack and seize up in excitement, shake her hands in front, and sing and dance along to the music. Who will scream GOOOOOOOOOOO!! like a banshee at the same point, every time, in Let It Go. Who will sing, in tune, the last word or two in most of the songs from a handful of Disney movies. Who will sing the last word or two or three of every phrase in her favourite tv show tunes.

This small person, who knows her way around an iPad. Who will say, with that killer Please Face, Bluey? to ask if she can watch shows. Who will ask to get out of the cot when it is still too early for anything, give me a cuddle, ask to get down, pick up the iPad from the chair, try to pull my charging cord from my phone but allow me to do that so I can plug it in to the iPad then unlock it and launch ABC Kids. Who is only allowed to use an iPad for ABC Kids and can pause an episode and press the X to exit that episode and press the arrow to go back to a different selection of shows. Who apparently has favourite episodes of certain shows, and regularly picks (saying the correct name) ‘Dark’ for Bing, ‘Rain’ for Bluey, ‘The Dentist’ for Peppa Pig. Who is actually only allowed to use it for ABC Kids but has been known to leave that app and launch all sorts of other apps including, her favourite, the Music app when she sees the Bluey icon up there but will get upset because she actually really wants to keep watching Bluey and not just listen to the music. Who has been known to get the split screen happening. Who will quite confidently get onto the YouTube app and start scrolling through Cocomelon and Wiggles and Laurie Berkner and Super Simple Songs and Frozen and Frozen II and Moana and Encanto! 

This small person, who mostly likes to just wear a nappy because the weather is hot, but can take off that nappy and say ‘toi, lee?’ and then goes through all the steps of going to the toilet before running away from any fresh nappy, squeak-laughing with mischief all the way. Who can half get her own clothes off and on. Who gets herself in and out of the bath with ease, whether or not it’s what she actually wants. (I know. Toddlers.) Who replies with utter mischief and cheekiness. Hm? Whaaaat?! Lear-lee! (Really!)

This small person. She’s only one.