We've been reading 'The Lion's Paw' to Lou for his whole life (he's reading it here).  For about the last year, when we get to this page he points to the little white haired monkey and very animatedly says 'DAD, DAD, DAD!!!'.

Andy is feeling self conscious and I SWEAR I didn't teach him it.  Could it be the facial hair?

The boy.  He talks and chatters and parrots and reads and explains and asks.  It is mind-blowing to us; one day you were doing this awful, frustrated squeal "EHHHHHHH!!!" at everything and the next, full-on talking.

At 20 months you know the words to nearly everything around you.  Examples for posterity....you can tell me what you want to do "Go in the bath", "Open it up", "Come here" etc.  You told me your tummy hurt today.  And that you wanted to "play train tracks" with "Thomas the Tank Engine".  You understand EVERYTHING, all the most detailed instructions, and you take great delight in following through instructions - "Go to the table please Louie", "Wash your hands",  "Pick up your books and take them to your room please".  I dread the day you realise it's not a game and that you are able to refuse and/or tantrum.  Good lord I know it's coming.

Today we lay together on our bed and you picked up a book of Poppa's.  I asked you to read it to me and you turned the pages and read to me for a long while.  It was apparently about "little ones" and "big ones" for the most part.

I've started pausing mid-way through sentences in books and you finish them off for me;

Me:  "Little Rabbit Foo-Foo riding through the...."
Louie:  "FORRRESSSSST!"
Me:  "Picking up the field mice and....
Louie:  "BOPPPING ON DA HEAD!!"

But even ones we've only read a handful of times:

Me:  " "Not I" said the cheetah lazing in the...
Louie:  "SPOTTED SHADE!!!"

But probably the most interesting part of you being able to verbally communicate is you telling me about things I haven't seen you experience.  When we sat around having dinner after your day at daycare I asked you "what songs did you sing at school Louie?".  You looked at me for a long while, obviously thinking really hard and then replied "Babies wahwah" and did a little rocking motion with your hands.  I didn't know what you meant.  Then you said "Wheeeeels!" and I started singing "The Wheels on the bus".  Your eyes gleamed happily and then you said "Babies!!"  Oh...."The babies on the bus go 'wahwahwah'".  Your eyes popped out of your head, your mum knew your daycare song!  Then you said "Rainbow" and we figured out which Rainbow song you meant by you mumbling "Redandlellowand....".  Amazing.

I know this is the minutiae of you growing up but these are the moments I don't want to forget. This metamorphosis from baby to boy is unreal, these sudden leaps and bounds hurtling you out, up, further away from me.  And yet I feel closer to you than ever.  We can talk.

I told you the other day as you looked at me worriedly, trying something new "Don't worry baby, Mama's here".  You repeated it, as you do everything "Mama's 'ere,  mama's 'ere".   And I watched it sink in.  Mama is here.  It's ok.  Ever since then you say "Mama here?" and reach for me when you're feeling worried.  Mama's here Lou Blue, always xxx

We have so much fun together.  Let it be known, before these days have gone, before you race away from me to catch up with your mates, before you drop back to walk behind me so no-one knows you're with your mum, before you answer my questions quickly so you can get back to your Playstation/comics/book/tv programme.  We have SOSOSOSO much fun together and I treasure these days.  Playgrounds, coffee and fluffies, big walks, library visits.  You grin at me, search me out and cuddle my legs, reach up to be picked up, ask "pweeese?" when you want me to come with you, listen so hard to me talking to you so that you can figure it out and do the task and make me proud.  You make me so proud my Louie Blue.

You talk and talk and talk and talk, parroting back the last word I say or more confusingly, a word you learnt the day before.  Today it was 'cauliflower' and 'on top of car', completely randomly and with totally glee when I finally figured out what you were saying.  You are basically talking, it's just you haven't figured out the filler words.

This little clingy stage you're going through kills me...I love it and yet it breaks my heart.  I'm reveling in the cuddles and need for your mama, and yet I hope my brave, adventurous boy is still there, not too worried or unsure of the world to have disappeared for long.

Child you fill me up.

You are trying super hard to talk, listening intently to everything and repeating a random word:

Me:  "Hey Lou, are you feeling a little bit hot?"

Louie:  "Bit!"


You also interject a lot:

Me:  "Hey Louie, do you... "

Louie:  "Eh?"

Me:  "....want to...

Louie:  "Eh?"

Me:  "....go and get some...."

Louie:  "Eh?!?"

Me:  "....lemons from the tree?"

Louie:  ""LEEEMMMOOOOONS!"  *toddles off to pick lemons*

It's like talking to Manuel off Fawlty Towers.

Having woken up, hours before the sun, and realised we were sleeping in the same room as you (weekend away in Auckland), you refused to go back to sleep and wanted a full-blown, popcorn-and-pillow-fight pajama party.  When we refused and instead tried to tuck you into our bed, you kicked and wriggled and climbed until finally we popped you back into the travel cot and ignored your protests for....One. Whole.  Hour.  After an hour of moaning and chatting and I-think-he's-nodding-back-off,  I finally got up at 6am and got you a nana and some milk and as you nibbled the nana, writhing in tiredness and sorrow, you wailed "Mon-keeeeey!  Mon-keeeeey!" with such bitter sadness it broke our hearts and I had to get you up.  I wrapped us both up in lots of layers and took you out into the cold, out of the apartment where everyone was trying to get some sleep, and on a most unplanned (the best kind) adventure.  Since we were at the Viaduct, we boarded the 6.30am ferry to Devonport, your first time on a boat!  And we sat outside in the wind and watched Devonport approach and the morning sun ascend.  You were spell-bound and I was loving you all up, frustrations and tiredness forgotten.  A coffee, a shared muffin and a brisk walk through the sea air.  I think I'll always remember our morning.

We share so many smiles these days my boy, they never get old and I treasure every beaming one.

** I know I'm really late to the Hipstamatic party and it's probably passe.... but feck it!  I LOVE IT!!

I'm always stuck for ideas of what to do at home so nearly every waking moment the boy and I head out, anywhere, just out.  When we're home we're reading, cooking, bathing or in the garden.

Wow.  

My life was just summed up in two sentences.  Sparse but lovely.

I miss reading books.  And not quick, can't-put-down guilty chick-lit, I miss the ones that make you feel alone in your wonder.

It seems all I read and watch is snippets; blogs, tv shows, Facebook.  It's all instant satisfaction which I'm suddenly finding unsatisfactory and it's clogging my head up.  The problem is, it's helluva addictive.  I like checking in on the lives of others, the blogs I follow, they are a part of my day now.  And Facebook is just stupid-making, I can't leave it alone for a day.  So what to do?  Do I have the will-power to tune out, hang up and log off?  Mulling it over....

Louie on the other hand can't get enough of books.  "Tory?  Tory?"  all day long.

"The night grows cold and I sit before the fire with Alba. Her arms wind around my neck as she watches the flames. In those moments being a Mama is exactly what I pictured.  I may never find the right words to describe what it is like to have the gentle, warm weight of your own child in your arms (if you’re a parent, you already understand), but it holds so much meaning to me. It is something where there was once nothing. It is the strangeness and wonder that is life. That weight is the weight of the world." Nirrimi  http://www.theroadishome.com/april-2013/

Overheard tonight as Louie and Andy shower:

"OooooOooo!"

"Yeah, that's Daddy's diddle.  You've got one too....where's your diddle Louie?"

......

"Gone!"

"No, it's not gone, you just can't see it right now because your belly is too big".