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.)


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