At just over 20 months, there are next to no traces left of the tiny baby the Bean once was. Most of the "essential" kit that filled our flat has been packed away. Gone are the days when he could be persuaded to sleep with just some milk, some rocking, some songs. No longer is he all gummy smiles and dribble bibs.
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:
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:
We're Going on a Bear Hunt has fascinated the Bean since he was just a couple of months old. First by googly-eyed and captivating Michael Rosen's own rendition of it. Then by the book itself, which he started chucking at our heads as soon as he was old enough to speed-crawl up to the bookshelf and choose a parent-waking missile.
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.
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.
Despite having read this book at least a hundred times (7 times in a row, on one occasion), it's impossible not to enjoy it. Impossible to resist making the mud extra squerchy and the snowstorm extra fierce. Just to see the look on his face.
