Ready not!

2 years, 0 month, 3 days old

This week Arwen has had her birthday, becoming a very grown up two year old. Now that she’s all grown up n stuff, she’s moved on from wanting to listen to the Trolls soundtrack or even Rodriguez in the car, being now all about “banging choons”. They grow up so fast!

This week has involved a lot of hide and seek, which Arwen seems to be getting better at, though still makes the mistake every kid makes in thinking that if she can’t see you, you can’t see her. She’s yet to realise that standing behind the curtain with her legs very much on show isn’t a great way to hide, though she’s learning the language of the game now, shouting “Ready not!” before she comes to find you. It’s just that it’s a bit of a giveaway when she’s supposedly hiding but then keeps shouting “Where is she?!?” from behind her bedroom door. Again.

Being a big two year old means she now has a big girl bed (i.e. we’ve converted her cot bed) which makes it much easier to play the hilarious game of throwing all her teddies on the floor. She particularly enjoys naming them as she chucks them, and when I, playing along as the disgruntled parent, told her not to throw any more out, she replied by filling her arms and shouting “Throw everyone!!!” I wouldn’t mind if she then tidied them up, but such is a parent’s life. You make something a joke once, then you spend the next six hours picking up teddies. Though she did then see all her favourites lying on the floor (even Norma, and she’s the best!), looked sadly at them and said “Oh dear me.” So at least she’s empathising with my plight a little. Or maybe just with Norma. I can’t be sure.

We’ve had a few odd little phrases this week that have kept us entertained. When I had a plaster on my finger a few days ago, she looked at it thoughtfully, tried to remove it, then declared it a “finger hat”. We’ve realised that it’s better to put a plaster on any size cut nowadays as Arwen doesn’t understand what blood is yet, so has an interesting take on it. I found this out a couple of weeks ago when I cut my toe on the bathroom door (I’ve no idea how either) and desperately tried not to faint, which I often do when I see my own blood, but which is absolutely not a good idea when on my own with a toddler who was sitting on the toilet at the time. She looked at the blood with fascination and announced “Ooh, Mummy painting!”

She also had an interesting take on the spider that was in the car on Friday. Daddy isn’t a fan of spiders at all, so we stopped the car to try and get it out, but by that point couldn’t find where it had gone. When we got back in the car we’re assuming Arwen must have repeated something she’d heard us say, as she suddenly came out with “Spider probly dead.” Which it probably was. Though she isn’t always quite so sensible. I was washing up on Thursday and realised that Arwen had been in the front room on her own for a while and I hadn’t heard a peep. Knowing, as every parent does, that a lack of noise is rarely a good thing, I called out to ask what she was doing. “Lovely pillow!” came the reply.

Anyone who thinks children learn more from their mothers would be mistaken when it comes to Arwen. Thanks to the efforts of Daddy, she can now recognise the subtle difference in tenor and pitch between a “tump” and a “fart”. A useful skill to have. But her best (worst?) phrase this week came as we drove home on Friday. Arwen’s loved windmills for a long time now, and had been looking down at a book for a while as we drove. When she glanced up, she saw that we were right by a wind farm, which led to the only appropriate response: “Shit! Windmills!”

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