Bumrara!

1 year, 10 months, 1 day old

I’m a day late this week, but a person can’t really be expected to write anything on Easter Sunday when they’re in a chocolate coma, can they? Though Arwen has marked this sacred and chocolatey weekend by learning the word “church” and shouting it as loudly as she can whenever she sees one from the car window. She feels a natural affinity with religion, what with believing her name is Amen.

Arwen (Amen?) really wants to engage with people at the minute and has therefore started initiating her own conversations. The problem is that her small talk really needs work, given that her favourite chat this week went as follows:

A: Melly.

Me: What’s smelly?

A: Poo poo.

Which, though factually correct, isn’t most people’s idea of polite conversation.

Anyway, this has been the week of Arwen seeing a thing then becoming obsessed with it and talking about it constantly. Which is normal, if infuriating as she has a limited vocabulary of just over 400 words, so she just repeats the same ones, over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. Last week she was fascinated by the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, which she still mentions; this week, she’s absolutely obsessed by the giant of Speke Hall. There’s a little adventure trail you can take in the grounds of the hall, during which you find out facts about a very tall man who lived nearby; on the trail is a little house with a pair of feet sticking out of the window as the giant is asleep in there, snoring loudly. And all we’ve heard for the past few days is “giant noring noisy”. It would have driven us to the point of insanity if it weren’t for the fact that Arwen struggles with the word “snoring” and so hunches up her shoulders and pulls a face like a pensioner with their teeth out whenever she attempts to say it.

We may have heard the end of the giant story though, as today she started on “lipperline!” after watching some people on a zip line, and that’s all we’ve heard this afternoon. Well it was, until a fly was buzzing around at teatime, which was annoying Arwen. so Daddy told her to tell it to bugger off. At first we just got “bug off”, which was amusing but we could maybe pretend to people that she was trying to remove bugs from something, but now it’s a very clear “BUGGER OFF!” Apparently, it’s no bad thing though. It turns out Daddy taught her to swear not because he’s a bad parent, but because he wanted to make sure I had something to write about in this blog. So that’s ok then.

And while it’s possible we may get fed up of hearing about the lipperline, it did give us a lot of entertainment this afternoon. The man who raked out the piles of bark that had built up where everyone landed was amused by her referring to it as “combing”, but the best part of the day was Arwen providing a running commentary on everyone’s dismount, graceful or otherwise. People who cycled their legs properly as they came in to land and ended up on their feet got an appreciative “Running!”, and were able to look over at the impressed toddler with smug satisfaction. Those who didn’t were faced with cries of “Down!” when they fell, “Cleaning!” when they attempted to wipe the dirt off whichever part of their body they’d landed on, “Bumrara!” (a brilliant word based on my referring to her backside as her bumtarara) when they landed on their arse, and my personal favourite “Fall! Head bonk!” Those people were not as appreciative of their audience as the others. Spoilsports.

 

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