Two true

We made it.

Two.

Yup, as of 9:17pm Thursday April 16 2009, we have a two year old.

Which is kinda amazing cos it feels like yesterday that he was thrust upon the world and was a slimey wriggly thing that was trying to snake his way up dads chest and latch onto a nipple while mum was in recovery.

"Whoa boy..."

The actual birthday started with morning presents on the bed - in this case a certain"Molly" engine and tender from the Thomas the Tank Engine series. Of course he knew exactly who it was about a year before he even opened the package... these kids are amazing.

Or rather, the folks who market to them are.

From there we progressed to the full family do (including his second family - Jackie his carer and the girls), including even more Thomas and of course Wiggle presents, though the best one of all was the "gtar" - a ukulele from his Babcia. Now he thinks he's Murray.

But the coop de grass came with the cake.

A double layer sponge with white icing, two candles and... a big Wiggles edible decal mum bought at Mr Safeways and stuck on top.

The boy thought he'd died and wiggled up to heaven.

The following day it was off for the official two year weigh-in at the maternal health care centre with the council nurse. And of course, right on cue, he mysteriously appears with a scratch down his face worthy of a Somali pirate, and pimples on his wedding tackle.

"MMmmm... never seen those..." mused the nurse.

They went away. As did the scratch.

The stats revealed that he is indeed his fathers some, clocking in at 75th percentile for height and head, and 50th percentile for weight. All equates to a BMI of "too healthy to bother".

Well done boy. Well done mum.

As a reward, and seeing as by now it was mum's birthday, the wee lad was packed off to his nana and papas for... his first night away from both his parents.

Of course being mum and dads first night alone together in two years + 1 day, they went wild. That is, if dinner and a movie (Mary and Max - we can heartily recommend it, and not just for the fact that AB's cousin's husband is in the credits) and strolling through bookshops in Church St Brighton can be classed as balls out hijinx.

And what did they purchase in the bookshop, without one hint of questioning from either party?

A Wiggles CD by dad.
And a Thomas DVD by mum.

Oh yeah, give it to me baby.
We were rockin' the house.

We're also realising that we're rapidly approaching the time when he may well develop his first memories for life. When visiting nanas house to collect the tike the following day, there were books that dad had read to him as a kiddie. And this provoked a truly bizarre sensation of deja vu - he could remember parts of them as both warm and comforting and a bit scary at the same time, even without looking at the text... it was very twilight zone.

And of course going by the "walk at one, talk at two" rule, the communication is now a two way street. Or rather, multi lane expressway (with tolls).

Case in point. There we were eating tea - a rather nice pumpkin soup and toast on the first shivery cold day of 2009.

Boy only wanted toast.

"How about you eat a spoonful of soup, and then you can have some toast..." dad suggested.

Boy just stared at him. Put his finger in the soup, then decided to put his finger in his hair.

"Or you could just rub it in your hair..." dad lamented under his breath, but apparently all too audibly.

So the boy did.

In went the spoon, out came a great big blob of orange chunky soup, and onto the cranium it went, forming a great big pumpkin soup hat.

Then of course he felt he needed the reward for his compliance.

"Toast!" said boy.

"Bugger..." muttered dad as he handed over the buttered finger.

You know it makes sense.

Meanwhile, quietly growing in the background, Sissy is apparently having tryouts for the Matildas in mums new bigtum, and hence has Mistress P worried what we'll have on our hands when she finally breaks out. This girl can kick.

At least it makes sure she isn't forgotton.

Crikey. We'll have another one turning two before we know it.

(But hopefully with a better taste in hats.)

Chug Chug

"Hello.

My name is Michael Henry Watkins.
And I am a Wiggles-holic."

Yes, as we'd been warned, we're rapidly descending into the terrible (and at times terribly cute) twos.

In Master M's case it's taking the form of an unholy alliance with the marketing genius that is The Wiggles.

You thought Thomas the Tank engine was bad? Well that was just the teaser to get you hooked. Seriously, the kid cant go two minutes without bellowing for a hit of Dorothy Dinosaur, a snort of Captain Feathersword or a taste of Big Red Car.

Its kiddie crack.

Seriously.

And its burning into our adult minds as well.

Standing in the lift at work you find you're singing "toot toot chugga chugga" - right up until two seconds after a Director hops in and stares at you like you're mad.

Someone comes up with a good idea at a planning meeting and you find yourself twirling your thumbs-up fist in agreement.

And when we heard there was going to be a TV show on sporting identity WAGS we shielded the boys eyes cos we thought they meant the dog.

Still, all his wiggles obsession may all be to do with the second instalment of "mum away for a week" syndrome.

Once again Mistress P was off to parts unknown (well, Perth). However when the family headed to the airpirt to wave her goodbye, the lad fell asleep and hence missed out on the waving, and instead woke up at the beach with one of dads windsurfing buddies.

Boy, was he peed off.

"Mummy!!" he demanded.
And them proceeded to cling to dad like poo-poo on a blanket.
He was not amused.

Still, he was on best behaviour - despite being carted off to an extra day of child care - and only mentioned mum once.

Unfortunately that was at 4am on a schoolnight, which meant dad was somewhat bleary eyed at the desk the following day. (In case you're worried, a bit of a late night cuddle on the couch in the dark and he was fine...)

When mum finally arrived home the boy was pumped and primed for a big hello and hence determined not to fall asleep on Airport Drive once again. Hence when mum was spotted in the distance (with her belly considerably closer), the boy looked, blinked, checked... then ran.

With little legs unable to keep up the pace his brain wanted to move, and hence a bitova stumble mid gallop. Mum broke into a jog too...

(It was just like Dudley Moore/Bo Derek in the beach scene from "10".)

Hug with mum done, he was presented with a toy helicopter (which he refused to let go for a full 24 hours) and paraded off back to the car. After which, instead of being clingy like last time, he became Mr No.

"Banana?" "NO!"
"Walk?" "NO!"
"Bed?" "NO!"

It certainly became a bit tiresome, though granted put the point across that he wasn't going to be messed with when it comes to this mother abandonment stuff.

On the mum and Siss front, the bulge is ever expanding and the belly button has well and truly popped into "outtie" mode already. (Dad tells Mike its Sissy's nose.)

Theres a bit of movement from Siss, a few more bathroom trips and preggy brain moments for mum, and a bit less room in the bed for dad.

All good stuff.

Well, cept for mums rather odd aversion to white LED lights; the fairy lights on the back deck now don't make her think of fun times, but rather make her want to puke.

Other recent Mike highlights...

• seeing the "stinky whale" at Rye back beach
• eating chocolate easter eggs until we had a brown face. And people laughed at us on Dromana pier.
  
• having a haircut in a wiggles cape (surely one for the "how cool is that!" file)
  
• pushing a baby doll up mums shirt cos "baby in mummys tummy"
• When told its "windy" outside, saying "No... Wendy" and pointing to our neighbour Wendy's house
• Drawing two lines on a piece of paper and yelling "SEVEN!" cos we'd drawn a seven. Then repeating it
  
• running away from mum and straight into a XXX adult shop. And running straight out again...
  

Chug chug, big car.
All is right with the world.