Tag Archives: Henry In Review

On losing Two, and trying not to be sad about it

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Second birthday. The cheeks have it.

He is on the verge of being three. Hanging onto Two by his fingertips. You can see Three coming in those long skinny legs, the bony bottom in little underpants. Three is in his self-awareness, the jokes with a random punchline, the┬ásentences with multiple clauses. There are Threeish days he wants books with more words than pictures, and days he wants me to pull stories out of my head. I can smell it on the days he sleeps till 7.30 instead of 6am, and doesn’t want a nap because it’s obvious he doesn’t need one.

You’d think this would be good news. It is, it really is. Two has been a marvellous, multicoloured fire-storm. I have sensed for a long time that he and I are very similar, and I’ve butted heads with Two so often we have bruises. I can see the seeds of logic in Three. There’s the unremarkable everyday use of the toilet coming (!!!), and the point at which he can get himself a seventh glass of water. I can see, very VERY distantly on the horizon, a day in which he can put on his own socks.

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But oh, there is sweetness here I am not ready to give up. Two, with his chubby cheeks and flannel Thomas pyjamas. The process of watching him pull words from the air, awestruck with the discovery that things have names, and mispronounce them hilariously. Not ever again in his life will he forget how to say ‘porridge’. He won’t ever need my hand again to go down the stairs. That was Two’s thing, and Two has almost gone.

Three goes to nursery in September. We’re still waiting for the confirmation letter to arrive, but it should come any day.┬áHe’ll be someone else’s for five mornings a week, and he is so excited to go. Me, I’ve spent these sunny weeks holding onto Two with both hands: picnics, day trips, library books, lots of mornings jumping off walls and poking things with sticks, as much time as I can wangle with him wedged on my lap. For these last few golden weeks he is all mine, all day, and this life I make for him is the only one he knows. It was never going to last, and it shouldn’t, either. But I will close my eyes and breathe in Two for every minute I still have him.

Three is coming, lovely boy, and just wait till you see what you’ll find there.

Three is coming.

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Something to celebrate

Happy birthday to Henricus Rex! What a year, eh?

Try posing him with ANYTHING these days. Doesn’t work.

This boy is such a delicious thing. He is frantically busy until exhaustion knocks him flat at bedtime. He has charm, and works it shamelessly. Has opinions, and voices them loudly. Pulls amazing faces. Is the reason we’ve roped the fridge and freezer shut. Says ‘dadada’ when he means Tim, and ‘mamama’ when he’s hungry (nice). Will do anything, really anything, to get hold of an iPhone. Holds on to the back of your t-shirt with a fierce grip when you carry him. Thinks that falling asleep on Mummy is for sissies. Totally loses his head when you put him on your shoulders, and pulls your hair out and screams for joy. Wore his first shirt and tie today, and kept rediscovering his tie every half hour, and being pleasantly surprised all over again.

Oh look, a tie! How exciting! How satisfying! For me?

Which sums up how he rolls quite nicely, I think.

Thanks for all of it, lovely boy. Pass me another twelve months.

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