Growing Up

So I have started school this year. It’s cos I am three now. Well, it’s pre-school really and I only go there a couple of mornings a week but it is definitely much more grown up than nursery. I wear a uniform and everything. It’s just round the corner from home and I get to scoot or cycle there with my mum of a morning which is good – I do like to keep active.

When she picks me up my mum is practically much falling over herself trying to find out what I have done that day and I always just tell her it’s a secret. It does her head in. I do give her snippets like, I’m not totally heartless. I often tell her I have painted a pterodactyl (I have NEVER painted a pterodactyl – I can’t even draw a smiley face). I don’t know why she gets so antsy about it anyway, she could always ask the teacher.

Mum gives me a torch when I go to bed now. It’s like it’s finally clicked with her (a light bulb moment…?). She was always stressed with me when I waltzed into her at 6am but why on earth would I want to stay in my room when I am awake and it is pitch dark? Now I have my very own torch I am happy to stay in there til the sun comes up. I tell Baby Mo about what I have been up to at school and practice my reading. Everyone is a winner really. Bet she wishes she’d done that a few months ago.

I am just starting to come to the realisation (sloooooowly) that sometimes whinging is not the only way to get what you want. I’ve been practicing the hilarity, keeping up with the compliments and also I have been experimenting with a brand new concept called ‘being good’….and do you know what – they all get results too. So for example, just this morning I was eating my breakfast and I thought ‘you know what, I don’t really want these brown cornflakes, I fancy something a bit continental.’ Now normally, before I’d had chance to engage my brain I would have just made an involuntary whinging noise and demanded something, mum would have said no, I’d have whinged some more, mum might have shouted a bit and made an idle threat or three, I’d have brought out the Mega Whinge and she would have relented (cos she is weak). It’s a method that has always got results but it takes about ten minutes. So this morning I just said ‘mum, please can I have something else after this cereal?’ and she said ‘yes, would you like an apple?’ and I said ‘no, I was thinking of some ham and cheese. Like the French.’ Well she thought this was dead funny, so off she trotted to get me what I had asked for and I actually ended up just eating that and sacking off the bran flakes altogether. I’m not sure she even noticed she was that chufties with me for asking nicely. I mean, it’s something to bear in mind for me. I got my own way, I didn’t eat the bran flakes, mum was in a top mood and it had only taken about 30 seconds. Interesting.

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Guess Who’s Back?!

So, I bet you have missed me and have been struggling to sleep at night wondering where I am eh? It’s been ages since I’ve blogged, I know. Soz. To be honest I’ve just been really busy. It’s a whirlwind being a toddler. Although I am three next month (three! Can you believe it? My mum can’t) so can I still be classed at a toddler? I feel like a pretty big boy nowadays. I even went in the pre-school room at nursery the other day and had a drama lesson!

Plus mum keeps banning me from using the iPad which is a bit of a barrier for my writing career. Apparently I’m ‘vile’ when my iPad time is up.

So, just briefly, what have I been up to? Well the major news (for me anyway) is that my mum finally got me a proper hair cut. So I look like an actual boy now rather than a strange girl with a bad hairstyle. It’s literally a weight off my shoulders. I don’t wear nappies anymore (haven’t done for ages – told you I’d see to that when I was ready), I don’t sleep in a cot anymore and I don’t sit in a highchair. I’m basically all grown up.

So, now I am grown up, the whinging has taken a new dimension. It’s not a sign of frustration anymore. I just do it purely to wind my mum up and entertain myself. And I only do it for her. Ask Aunty Rachael – I stay there all the time and I never whinge at all. Mum says I totally know how to Push Her Buttons (I don’t really know what buttons she means but she tells me that ALOT). I have realised that one particular whingey sound I make drives her so insane that she will pretty much do whatever I want to stop me doing it immediately. So if I want her to change the channel over from Peppa Pig to Fireman Sam I just make that noise and she’s all like ‘Reggie! Don’t make that noise! What do you want?!’ It makes me laugh (she caught me laughing at her the other day actually and I was a bit worried she had foiled my evil plan but she doesn’t seem to have after all). Or another thing, she has started making me dress myself in the mornings. Which was all very well and good at first, a bit of independence, if I fancied wearing my pants back to front then I could, but I’m fed up of that now. So I find that if I just get myself tangled up in my vest or something and make The Noise, then she is straight over getting me all dressed.

I’ve totes got her wrapped round my little finger at bed time as well. It’s normally my dad who puts me to bed as she’s out at the gym (I know, hilarious) so when mum does do bedtime I like to play a little game. It’s called ‘What Ridiculous Things Can I Make Her Do For Me Tonight?’ (I know that’s not a very catchy name but it does describe exactly what the game is.) So the other night I managed to get about eight stories out of her, plus she left me the light on, plus she let me go to the toilet twice (didn’t need a wee), let me clean my teeth again cos I had a cheerio around my back tooth (that’s not even possible is it) and she went downstairs to fetch me Baby Mo. Oh and she sang me a really awful song she made up too. She uses the phrase ‘this is your last chance Reggie’ quite a lot but I don’t have a clue what that means because nothing ever comes of it.

I’m also learning the art of smooth talking. I’m picking it up from my dad. So if mum won’t let me get the Play Doh out, all I have to do it tell her she’s my best friend and she relents. Won’t let me play in the garden when it’s raining? A quick mention of how much I love her shoes and she’s all over it. Not allowed chocolate for dinner? I just tell her how pretty she is. Works every time.

So between the smooth talking and The Noise, I’m pretty sorted. Well most of the time. Even my mum does have her limits – she wouldn’t let me travel to nursery sitting on the roof of the car the other day no matter how many compliments I paid her or how many times I did The Noise. But I suppose that was a bit of a stupid idea in hindsight…

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Potty Training Boot Camp

Have you heard of this indignity that the parents seem to be doing???? Joshie mentioned it to me ages ago but I had hoped he had got it wrong. It’s called POTTY TRAINING.

So, just to be totally clear: I do 100% get the concept – my mummy and daddy don’t wear nappies after all – but I just cannot be bothered truth be told. Mummy has started nagging me every twenty seconds – do you need a wee Reggie, do you need to sit on your potty Reggie – and it’s getting right on my nerves. Like I say, I get the concept, and I was starting to think to myself that I might be over the whole nappy thing anyway but I didn’t really want to be told that I had to do it. This whole idea of ‘training’ me. I’m two for heaven’s sake. Leave me be.

So, as I mentioned, mummy is constantly nagging me to use the loo or the potty so I have decided to Take A Stand. I’m not using them. She can give me as much ‘nappy free time’ as she likes but I am holding it all in until she puts a nappy back on. It’s getting right on her wick. It’s hilarious. Especially when I put my best whinging voice on and say ‘I don’t want to use the potty.’ I can practically see the steam coming out of her ears. She’s even bought me this stupid book about a pirate learning to use his potty. There’s a picture of a poo in it for heaven’s sake. How vile is that.

Nannan Max is in on the act as well, except she has gone one step further and bought me some pants. I like the pants, they’re cool and grown up, but it still doesn’t mean I am going to be using the potty on her say so either. Would she like it if I were telling her to do a wee thirty times a day? The other thing about it is that they all expect me to do it in front on them, whilst they are all watching me smiling ‘encouragingly.’ Smiling ‘creepily’ more like. Who wants an audience to do that?! BOG OFF (excuse the pun).

We are going to Greece in a few weeks and I imagine I’ll be spending a lot of time running around outside. They don’t have carpets in Greece either (I remember from last year cos I couldn’t walk and the hard floors played havoc with my knees) so I bet mummy is a bit blasé with the nappies. I might well sack the nappies off altogether during the holiday. But only because I want to – not because they’re telling me to.

So take note, any other mummies and daddies out there – if you want your toddler to move on from the nappies, then leave them to it. We will do it when we are good and ready. Pestering us is counter productive. It’ll just lead to us being a bit stubborn and taking even longer.j

Oh and to clarify – I do not make messes on the floor. That is just gross.

Bad Time Management

Well. What a day. Mummy needs to organise her life a bit more if you ask me. So, it’s Monday. Playgroup day. Last week she volunteered to come in early this morning and help set up. I knew this was a bad idea. I knew she’d forget. I was right.

I had (obviously) remembered we needed to be there early and kindly woke up at 6am so we had plenty of time. When I first woke up I had a little chat with the teddies for bit, thinking mummy would be in shortly. It’s always best to give people the benefit of the doubt I reckon. About half an hour passed and still no sign of her. So I shouted her a couple of times. Nothing. In the end I had to resort to poking myself in the eye to make myself cry so she’d come in (note to self, DO NOT do that again, so painful, couldn’t open it for about an hour). Anyway, she finally came in, all blasé, saying ‘oh dear, you’ve poked yourself in the eye, never mind’ and other inane stuff. I felt like saying ‘never mind? Never mind?! I’m in agony here and it’s all your fault.’ I didn’t quite manage to say that, it was more like ‘waaaaaaaaaah, my can’t open my eyeeeeeeeee!!’ A bit over dramatic really but it hurt. I thought I was blind.

So then she casually suggested we go and watch a bit of telly in her bedroom before breakfast. I quite liked that idea so I thought ‘yeah, what the heck, we’ve got a bit of time to spare.’ Crafty woman had installed the brand new Justin’s World app on the iPad though hadn’t she. I got totally engrossed for ages. If anyone else is a Justin Fletcher fan, it’s totally worth the £2.99. Right good. But I digress.

All of a sudden it’s half nine and it dawns on me that mummy’s definitely forgot we are supposed to be at playgroup RIGHT NOW. I know that because she has only just got out of the shower and still needs to dry her hair. I’m still in a vest and haven’t had any breakfast. And don’t get me started on the state of my curls. I was just about to tell her when I saw it dawn on her. And all of a sudden she changes personality. No more Mrs Nice Mummy, letting me play on the iPad and chatting. She’s all stressed out now. “Come on Reggie, get out of the wardrobe, stop whinging, stop going floppy.” I was starving as well and you know what she got me? Dry Cheerios. Cheers for that. Somehow she managed to get herself and myself dressed in about five minutes and we are all of a sudden in the car. I’m still starving so I decide to whinge. She quickly realises the problem and runs back in for the Cheerios.

We arrived at playgroup about ten minutes before it started. We should have arrived half an hour previous. I was still eating Cheerios. Mummy had wet hair. Can you imagine the looks we got from the other mums and toddlers who’d been there ages? So embarrassing. My eye was still hurting as well. Nightmare. I was a bit peeved with mummy, truth be told. I mean, we have a calendar in the kitchen. She really ought to have written this down when she originally volunteered, then we wouldn’t have been in this mess. Decided to paint all over my hands to annoy her (she was wearing a white t shirt – foolish).

By the time playgroup finished I was tired, hungry and still had a sore eye. Mummy decided now would be the ideal time to pop into the carpet shop. Brilliant. It was all too much for me and I had an Emotional Breakdown in there. Mummy was totes embarrassed. Serves her right. Luckily a random man took pity on us and gave me some Wine Gums. Wow. I’ve never had them before. Yummy. I totally forgot to whinge when I was eating them. I could actually feel the sugar running through my veins and I couldn’t stop myself running around the shop. I think it’s the best lunch I’ve ever had. I doubt mummy would let me eat sweets for lunch under normal circumstances so I took total advantage.

The morals of the story here are 1) never volunteer to help with playgroup and 2) always carry Wine Gums. Every day is a school day eh?

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Whingey Mummy

My mummy was ever so stressed this weekend. It was because of the snow (the ‘bloody snow’ she kept calling it, but when I said that it didn’t go down too well). Her friends were supposed to come and stay but they couldn’t make the journey after all and gosh, it made her WHINGEY. She ought to write a diary herself really. She was all like ‘eat your breakfast’ and ‘stop throwing your fork on the floor’ and ‘no, we can’t play golf’ and ‘stop trying to ride the cat’. She also kept shouting unnecessarily at daddy which I always enjoy cos he makes funny faces behind her back (which she totally knows he does by the way).

She took me swimming on Saturday morning though, it was fun. Bekah came with us too. I had armbands on and enjoyed swimming around on my own, and jumping in and going right deep under the water before popping back up again. Only thing was that people kept thinking I was a girl. I think it was because of my lustrous blonde locks mainly but I don’t think the fact that mummy dressed me in a baby blue swimsuit with stars on it really helped matters either. After about the fifth person had referred to me as a ‘pretty little thing’ well, quite frankly, I’d had enough.

Unfortunately for mummy this coincided with me having to put my armbands back on after the big slide. I kicked off big time and had what can only be described as an ‘epic tantrum.’ Mummy thought it was because of the armbands but it wasn’t at all, it was because of the whole getting mistaken for a girl thing. What mummy should have done to make me calm down was tell me how handsome and butch I am but instead she just kept saying ‘do you want to go back in the swimming pool? Well you’ll have to put your armbands on then.’ It’s all a but of a blur but I the end I shouted ‘you can stuff your bloody armbands!!’ (but I think it sounded more like ‘WAHAAAAAAH!’) and she ended up taking me to the changing room for a little cuddle with my Liney. Crisis averted and back in the pool (with armbands) we went.

I think the mixture of me being absolutely hilarious at swimming and then the tantrum took mummy’s mind off her friends not coming down for a bit anyway, so mission accomplished 🙂

Mummy always sees my whinging as a negative but she needs to see the bigger picture I reckon. I do it for the greater good. Honest.

Here I am on Sunday in the ‘bloody snow.’ Haha. I haven’t got giant hands by the way. Those gloves are just massive.

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Evil Genius

I am an actual evil genius 🙂 So are most of my toddler friends. We have ways and means of contacting each other without you parents knowing to arrange things we are going to do to Test Your Patience.

Me and my little mate (who shall remain nameless) have recently decided we aren’t eating. To be honest, it wasn’t a difficult decision – we are both teething anyway so food’s not that appealing at the moment. We’d agreed to have some milk first thing then a decent breakfast, totally reject our lunch as if it was actual gruel, turn our nose up at any snacks offered (unless it was chocolate obviously, but chance would be a fine thing) and then pick at our tea. Obviously we’d still have milk before bed. It was fun whilst it lasted. Mummy was getting well stressed. And daddy’s stress levels were going through the roof – think he wanted to give me away. It was highly amusing to watch. But then a couple of days ago mummy outwitted me and stopped offering me lunch full stop so I was blooming starving by tea time. She was well chufties with herself, cos I polished off my tea two nights running. So I contacted my pal to let him know that it was highly likely that his mum was going to try this nonsense as well…..and he threw a curve ball the following day by eating a whole veal burger at lunch. And yesterday I went out for lunch with Joshie and ate loads. In your face mummy.

Another friend (also nameless) and I have been having a little confab re: morning wake up times. We’ve both been late risers, generally past 8am but we’ve thrown a few 7am starts into the mix recently just to keep the mummies on their toes. It irritates them beyond belief. It’s not ideal for us either having to get up so early but we can always catch up on our zeds in the day. They can’t. Mwah ha ha. It’s driving them mad trying to work out ‘why.’

Bet you’re all wondering how we contact each other now aren’t you? Well I can’t tell you that. Us babies need some secrets.

Anyway…..I’m off to do more plotting….

I Love Monkeys

I just love monkeys. I really, really do. I love their funny faces and the way they go ‘ooo ooo’ whilst trying to tickle themselves under the arms. I love how they can swing from trees. I love everything about them. I’ve recently learned that it’s not just monkeys I love, but that I also love gorillas and chimpanzees which look a bit like monkeys. I actually am going to continue to just call them all monkeys anyway but I am only 20 months old so please don’t judge me.

Watched some on telly tonight before bed. It looks fun being a monkey. Did you know that for the first year of a monkey’s life they are carried EVERYWHERE by their mummies? Monkeys are furry so plenty to hold onto! Now, I would have loved to have been carried everywhere all the time. Mummy carried me in a sling when I was little (and still does sometimes) but not all the time (mummy isn’t furry so I couldn’t cling onto her myself). Also, they sleep all snuggled up to their mummies, they don’t have cots. Don’t get me wrong, I do love my cot but I also like the option of sleeping in mummy and daddy’s bed sometimes. And nowadays I like watching telly in there too! I’ve taken to asking to watch telly if I ever wake up in the night. That’s something that monkeys don’t have.

But – they are ace dancers! Look at this!

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I think monkeys have it sussed anyway 🙂

Oh, in other news, daddy took me to the Wacky Warehouse this afternoon. I whinged the whole time so we didn’t stay very long. Not even long enough for me to finish my Fruit Shoot. I don’t think he was very happy with me. I can’t even explain why I was whinging really, it was just for the sake of it. I regret it a bit looking back, because I actually really like the Wacky Warehouse and I spoilt it for myself 😦 I think I might possibly be getting to the age where my whinging is no longer cute, it’s just a bit annoying. I’ve had a word with myself before bed to be honest and tomorrow is a new day.

I’m concentrating quite hard on learning to talk at the moment too. I’m doing quite well. I’ve been talking with my hands for a while using Makaton but now I’m moving into the realms of speech. I’ve mastered lots and lots of important words, my favourite being ‘no,’ and now I’m learning to put them into sentences. Before bed I asked for ‘more nuk* please daddy’ – that’s four words all in one sentence. I’m pretty chuffed about it. But my brain was tired after that and I reverted to just whinging for what I wanted afterwards, such as when I wanted the blanket to lie on. It still gets results but daddy did say that I ought to just say ‘please’ and it would be better all round.

It is hard being a toddler though. There is so much happening all the time and it all gets on top of me and I have a tantrum. Thank heavens for my little Liney** – that’s all I can say!!

* nuk = milk – I can’t say it right
** Liney = my little blue blanket – it’s named after Linus off Charlie Brown

Whingey Boy’s Review of 2012

So then it’s a New Year and I thought I’d do a review of the last one. Highs, lows, hopes, dreams – you know the kind of thing.

Best bits:
– My birthday. Now that was pretty cool. It was around that time that I’d just learnt the art of whinging too so it was a special time for me. Lots of people came to my house and bought me presents and I had cake for lunch. ‘Twas ace. Because I couldn’t walk back then, I was able to whinge and somebody would quite quickly pick me up and take me somewhere else, so from the paddling pool to the swing to the kitchen to the tree. That sort of thing.
– Mummy going back to work. I was quite sad at the thought of not spending every day with her at first but then I realised that mummy being at work meant two things: nursery and going to Nannan Maxine’s for two nights a week. Nursery is wicked, there’s loads of toys there, we do messy stuff all the time and we sleep on mats on the floor. So fun. I don’t bother doing any whinging there much to mummy’s disgust. And I love going to Nannan’s house and having her fuss around me. She really does fuss, she’s always picking me up and giving me chocolate. I’ve heard her a couple of times saying how tying it is that I always want her and won’t go to anybody else but I know she loves it really and wouldn’t have it any other way.
– Learning to walk. It really has opened up a whole new world for me 🙂
– Discovering Mr Tumble! I don’t think I need to elaborate here, I think you all know how awesome he is!

Worst bits:
– Accidentally eating really well with a fork one day and now mummy expecting me to do it ALL THE TIME. I prefer it when she feeds me really.
– Finding out that my potty hat is actually for an altogether different purpose.
– Waking up one day and there being some sort of locking mechanism on the cupboards that hold bleach.
– My pointy teeth growing. I think they’re called canines. Ouch.

All in all, I’m enjoying life. This year I hope to continue doing so. I intend to learn more words, to go on another aeroplane, to own my very own slide and to perfect the art of the Toddler Tantrum (well on my way to achieving the last bit).

I’ve learnt that whinging really does pay sometimes (a bit like crime), that mummy actually does have a tether she occasionally reaches the end of and that iPads are absolutely brilliant. However I’ve also realised that on the days I don’t whinge everyone seems happier in general, including me. I now know that if I don’t pull Evi’s tail (my cat) she comes and sits with me and we cuddle, similarly if I don’t bash Jack on the head (Nannan’s dog) he lets me kick his football around.

I do just want to say one, very important thing though. Make sure your mummies know you love them. You should cuddle your mummies more and give them kisses even when they don’t ask for them. Sometimes, when they’re just sat on the settee you should pop yourself up next to them and just sit there for a while. And if you are eating yoghurt covered raisins (yes, mummy I know they’re not choc choc, I just humour you) just give them one. They’ll really love it.

Oh, by the way, talking of good stuff. I got this drum kit for Christmas. Best present EVER.

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Scary Santa

So, has anyone else heard of this Father Christmas fellow? Mummy has been going on about him recently and I’ve seen little models of him everywhere. Grandma Tick Tock has one that sings and dances, so does Tracy. I’ve seen light up versions of him on the outsides of peoples’ houses and I’ve learnt to rub my belly and say ‘Ho, Ho, Ho’ when asked what he does. Evidently he is a bloke who lives in the snow somewhere and brings us all presents at Christmas. Sounds quite good really, only working once a year and just being surrounded by presents and elves. I’m quite looking forward to getting presents and have been making an extra effort to be non-whingey because mummy says he only brings stuff for good boys and girls (I don’t believe her though, I reckon he’d bring stuff regardless, but it’s not worth the risk).

Up until a couple of weeks ago I genuinely really liked the sound of him. But then I met him IN REAL LIFE and I was TERRIFIED!! I’m not quite sure why, I mean he was just sat on his chair looking jolly but the last thing I wanted to do was to be sitting on his knee. Baby Max did – he’s brave – but me and Flo Flo – well, no way!! I heard his wife tell mummy that a lot of children our age are a bit scared of him so maybe I won’t be so scared if I meet him again another time, but for now I am definitely sticking to the little models of him instead of the real deal.

A few of the things I am hoping to get from him are some empty cardboard boxes, some paper to rip up and some bubbles. So, fingers crossed.

Here he is – those of a nervous disposition, do not look!

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An Explanation…

Recently I have been Trying Mummy’s Patience and Testing The Boundaries. I don’t think she’s been enjoying it. In fact I know she’s not been enjoying it because she keeps crying. Actually, I heard her say to daddy the other day that she wanted to send me back (I’ve no idea where). So I thought I’d best do some explaining.

Now that I’m nearly 18 months old I’m learning lots of new stuff every day. Some stuff mummy likes, such as new words or sign language (cheers Mr Tumble). But there is also stuff she doesn’t like so much. That includes things like sticking hair grips in my ears and getting Evi’s cat food out of the cupboard and trying to feed her all the time (she’s a very fat cat, she needs the food).

I’ve realised that I am my own person. And I don’t have to just go along with everything. So, for example, when mummy tries to get me dressed I’ve been kicking off. Quite a lot. I mean, I don’t even mind getting dressed, I know that getting dressed normally comes before going somewhere fun – but I don’t like the fact that she just gets to decide when it happens all of the time. I can be quite happily playing with her make up or something and next thing I know she’s chucking me on the changing table and yanking my vest off. Perhaps if she gave me a bit of warning I might be more cooperative. Perhaps if she asked me if I actually wanted to get dressed beforehand, then I wouldn’t mind so much (oh, thinking about it, I appreciate why she doesn’t do the latter to be fair – I’ve got this reflex at the moment where I answer ‘no’ to everything).

I’m also trying to learn to do stuff for myself. It’s a bit stressful though because I often can’t do it, so I’ll ask mummy to help, so then she starts to help but I don’t actually want her to. If you know what I mean. A prime example is the car seat. We’ve got two car seats you see and sometimes the spare one lives in the house. I just love playing in it. I like trying to fasten it (nigh on impossible, I haven’t a CLUE how it works) and I like putting my baby Mo in there and trying to fasten him in too. When I can’t do it, I omit a small whinge (it’s a reflex, I swear it is!) so mummy comes to my aid. But then just as she’s about to clip it in I think ‘ah, I see what you have to do’ and bat her out of the way (often another reflex whinge escapes at this point). But then it turns out I still can’t do it (honestly, it’s mental) and so the cycle repeats.

Another thing is that I WANT STUFF. And I want stuff now. So I find the most effective way is to point at nothing in particular and grunt. It drives mummy insane! Hahaha. She’s always saying, ‘What Reggie? Tell mummy what you want. Use your words.’ I see her logic. I’m perfectly capable of saying ‘juice’ or ‘biscuit’ or ‘Mr Tumble.’ But because I don’t say anything coherent, mummy pretty much offers me anything and everything thinking that eventually she’ll come across whatever it is I actually want. But I’ll let you into a secret. I don’t normally know what I want 🙂 I have, however, realised that this is a brilliant way of discovering new stuff. Because sometimes during the course of her offering me every item we own (swimming goggles, old shopping receipts, Tupperware, dad’s PS3 controller – eek, probably shouldn’t have let that slip) she offers me something that looks ACE. So I accept that 🙂 My most recent finds in this way have been the penny jar and a couple of money boxes to put the pennies in, Play Doh, corks and an old Roses tin that makes REALLY loud bangs.

So yeah, in short, lots of whinging. But I do only really save my major whinges for mummy, and occasionally daddy. I’ve heard people refer to me as ‘an angel’ after they’ve looked after me, like the ladies from nursery for example. Mummy always mouths like a fish when they say it to to her! But the reason I save my whinges for them two is because who else would put up with me? They’re the ones who love me the best aren’t they. I love them the best too. I hope they’re reading this.

I’m up at Nannan Max’s at the moment, I’m writing this from my cot in the posh nursery. Mummy couldn’t hand me over quick enough this morning. I bet she misses me now though.

Here I am playing with all the money!

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