1 year, 11 months, 13 days old
This has been a week of exciting things. There was a train ride on Tuesday, (Arwen enjoyed the tunnels and thankfully didn’t shout “nipple!” as she normally does when we go through one on our bikes), a massive thunderstorm on Saturday (which was “loud”, “noisy”, “good” and “cool” all at once), a trip out with friends yesterday (six year old George is now Arwen’s “best friend”) and a local food and craft festival today, during which Arwen was enraptured by two girls singing on stage and kept clapping along and trying to “dance!” on her chair. A good week.
It hasn’t all been a bed of roses though. Despite Arwen’s love of slides, twice this week she’s come down too fast, landing hard on her bum off one and faceplanting off the other. The former led her to declare “too much”. When I asked what was too much, her reply was “too much slide”. A fair point. She’s started becoming more of a fan of a see-saw now, though apparently it’s called a “see-saw see-saw”, that repetition being vital to its function. In fact, anything that rocks is a “see-saw see-saw”, including a rocking horse and the rather perilous way she’s discovered of making the trampoline shift.
She’s certainly a girl who knows what she wants. On Saturday morning, Daddy got Arwen up and she came into the bedroom to get me up. Her first words to me were “Hello. Glasses on.” Whether it’s because she wants to ensure I can see her exploits in all their glory or because she agrees with someone who once told me I look like a frog without my glasses and she doesn’t want an amphibian for a mother, we’ll probably never know. Another example of being clear about her needs came a couple of nights ago during her bath, when she urgently shouted the words “poo poo!”at Daddy. Daddy quickly did his duty and put her on the toilet, asking shortly afterwards whether she’d completed the deed. “No, massive tump” was the reply. It’s good that she sees how important it is to be sure before you try these things out in the bath.
Arwen’s doing her best at the moment to label everything around her, which led to her pointing to the rotary washing line (that’s me using its Sunday name. Let’s be honest, we all call it a whirligig) and announcing it quite brilliantly to be a “washing swinger.” She’s also constantly labelling body parts at the minute, happily pointing out my “ear” the other night, then looking really surprised when I turned my head and shouting “more earses!!!” She’s never quite sure about how many of each body part exists on any given person. For example, she enjoys counting whatever she can see when she’s naked, and invariably counts six nipples. Every time. I really don’t know where she’s hiding them, but I can’t say I’ve noticed an extra four stashed away anywhere.
Happily there haven’t been any offensive language uses this week. I say happily, but they’re always our favourite things she says, despite the fact that when we’re in public and around other parents, we always tell her very clearly that she’s not to say them. At home, we just laugh our arses off. Anyway, the nearest she’s got this week was when we read a book on Monday and a character threw a carrot. She pointed at it in bafflement and said “flying carrot.” I agreed with her that it was indeed a flying carrot, which seemed to touch something deep within her as Arwen responded with a shake of the head as though that flying carrot was symptomatic of all that’s wrong with this world, and a quiet and considered “fickin eck.”