2 years, 3 months, 9 days old

I didn’t write a blog yesterday as I was busy getting over the fact that I abseiled down Warrington Hospital ( if you’d like to donate to raise funds for the maternity and neonatal units that ensured the wonder that is Arwen made it into the world!) I’m sure I can be forgiven for that. Arwen seemed to enjoy standing watching, shouting “Spider Mummy!” which I think is a compliment.

This has been a week of shouting, mainly. Not sure why, but that’s just how it goes with a toddler sometimes. She was very angry when I called her Stinkyhead this morning and shouted “I not stinky!” She was also quite put out that the cat wasn’t fulfilling her duties as a cat, merely purring rather than anything more vocal, so Arwen shouted at her to “Say meow!” And then there was Daddy not playing along with whatever game Arwen had made up, meaning she angrily shouted “Daddy do point!” at him.

But as well as the shouting, there’s also been some learning. The bit I’m most proud of is the fact that she’s learning to use the “th” sound, a very difficult one to master. I only noticed because she sticks her tongue right out between her lips at the moment when she does it, but now she’s very clear when she wants to go for a “baTH”, not a shower. And it’s not just Arwen who’s been learning. We drove past a converted brewery a few days ago, and Daddy looked over at the houses opposite and wondered aloud whether they had anything to do with the brewery. Arwen looked over and told him with some authority “These houses. People live there.” So that cleared that up. We’ve also been watching a bit more Harry Potter, which led Arwen to watch Harry walking through the maze at the end of Goblet of Fire and say in a concerned voice “It coming.” I asked her what was coming, and she told me “Erm something strange.” She wasn’t wrong.

This has also been a week of emotional highs and lows. On Friday night as I put Arwen to bed, she took my hand and said “We are bestest friends.” which was just delightful. However, this was also the day when I took Arwen to the toilet, despite her telling me she didn’t want to go. I know, I’m a terrible parent. And Arwen clarified that for me when she stood by the cubicle door and sighed “I hate my life.” No anger, no frustration, just a simple statement of fact.

But back to the shouting. I lifted Arwen up on Thursday morning to take her upstairs to get dressed, thinking she’d seen me move to pick her up. She hadn’t, and I made her jump, which led her to shout, in a tone I can only describe as vexed, “You idiot!” There was a similar feel to her tone this evening when I again told her she should go to the toilet when she didn’t want to. I told her I was sure she must need a wee, to which she replied “Nonsense!” I then got thoroughly chastised for laughing.

However, the quote of the week was directed, as it often is, at Daddy. Part way through their shared bath on Saturday, Arwen took the flannel and placed it over Daddy’s crotch with the words “Cover daddy’s foof.” She then expressed concern over her own lack of foof, but that’s a conversation for another day.

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