Two things have happened in the last couple of days that have made me think simultaneously, “aww, well done sweetie! You’re doing so well!” and “oh noes, my baby is growing up!”
Whenever S does a little bottom burp, she’ll have a giggle and I’ll act all shocked and say “what was that?” She’ll reply “my bottom!” with a cheeky grin. I struggle to keep a straight face and ask her, “what do you say?”
Usually the response to this is “‘aah-don!” as she struggles to pronounce her words properly.
Yesterday a little toot came from S’s side of the breakfast table and I said “what was that?!” She giggled as usual and replied, “it’s my bottom!” I asked her what she should say and she said
We live in Salisbury, a city dominated by the cathedral. We could see it from our old living room window, and in the new flat S can see it from her bedroom. As we walk around town, it peeks out from behind buildings, appearing as we turn corners. Every time she spots it, S shouts “da-dee-doo! A dinge light!”
The other day, we turned the corner to go into nursery and my child looked up and said “look, ‘feedral! With orange light on top!”
I’m torn between being proud of S learning how to properly say words, and sad that this means she’s growing up. The cathedral will no longer be da-dee-doo, and pardon will no longer be aah-don. I love these little toddler words she says, and one by one she’s growing out of them.
I suppose it’s that constant dichotomy of parenthood, that you want them to grow and develop well… but you also want to cling to them just as they are, and never let them grow up… like that photo of the little girl crying because she doesn’t want her baby brother to grow up. Today, I am that little girl, stamping my feet and wailing that I don’t want my baby to stop saying aah-don instead of pardon!