Almost 12 months ago I blogged about how I had two chatterbox children and today I've begrudgingly accepted I now actually have three. 12 months ago Little Miss was a 6 month old baby who sat and stared in awe at her siblings. She smiled for a rusk or piece of banana. She stayed in one spot (oh those were the days!!). Times however have changed! Praise the heavens, my Little Miss has found her voice and her vocabulary is expanding hourly. I must admit I was a little worried that at 16 and 17 months she wasn't really saying much but I got over myself quickly. She went through a stage of calling me Nanny which distressed me alot, and thankfully that's passed. I'm pretty sure she knew it revved me, smart ass that she is. She was saying no, daddy, down, more, dora, melmo and nanny and that was about it. Mummy was in there, she'd said it before but chose to not say it often, evil child she is! This last week she's mastered coming down the stairs by herself and brace yourself for the epic tanty if you try to help her. At almost 18 months old, this headstrong, independent, determined young lady knows what she wants, she knows what she means and every single day she masters another word to communicate exactly that. If she can't find the word she points, dances, shouts, grunts, squeals and points some more until we understand each other and her need is met. Or she throws a huge bloody tantrum out of frustration. Whichever way it goes, each exchange is generally a long process and both of us are very frustrated by the end of it. This time last year I was dealing with the exact same thing with Missy Moo, but had a baby to deal with as well. I should be grateful for small mercies right?
I've been willing Little Miss to talk for what feels like a long time (I know its not actually been a long time) and now that she is, well I guess the saying 'be careful what you wish for' comes to mind. As of today she will nod for yes, shake her head for no, point at what she wants, bang the fridge for food, she says no, yes, peees (please), mork (milk), nanny, mummy (which is also the word for dummy so confusion reigns supreme at bedtime), daddy, ri-re (ivy), mooman (ewan), rogat (yoghurt), dora, daisy, book, ball, me, mine, NO, no and no. She grabs toys from her siblings and runs, laughing or squealing as she goes. She hits, kicks and as of yesterday pinches with quite the pincer grip. She wants exactly the same things as her siblings, irrelevant of what they are. She's got dark hair like me, blue eyes like her Daddy and like I had at her age. She's got dimples like me and the cheekiest of smiles. Out of my three children she looks the most like me - not hard given my other two look exactly like their Dad. All three however are exactly like me in personality. They talk non stop, its a battle of wills as to who is the boss, they shout, they get frustrated and they fight with each other all bloody day long. It's loud here, oh so very loud. And I suspect its only going to get louder. Sorry neighbours xoxo
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