Yet some things remain. His beloved milk bottles, which no sippy will ever be a match for in the comfort stakes. The stack of pink muslins on the end of the sofa, now just as good for dealing with a toddler's first (failed!) attempts at peeing in a potty as they once were with the results of a very poorly tummy. And this:
These days he's a little more civilised about it, though only just. He knows no books shall be read during mealtimes, exactly - mum and dad's multi-tasking skills do not extend to that - but patience is a tough task for a toddler. As soon as the cutlery hits the plate and the last mouthful has been swallowed, he's there, reminding us of our everyday parental duties.
There he was one morning this week, the old favourite in hand. He climbed onto M-Big's lap, all impish and enthusiastic and determined. Brush aside your breadcrumbs, Daddy, there is swishy-swashing to be done.