Happy birthday!

Today you are 2 years old; a walking, talking, funny and fun blue-eyed tiny bundle.

It’s been a busy year for all of us, and particularly for you. You’ve grown into a little boy who runs fast, jumps (just a few centimeters), talks in complicated sentences, plays lots of fun games, and eats food (at last) including fruit! You insist that you’re ‘a tiny boy’ even though we think you’re probably now classed as ‘a little boy’. The other night you even woke up in the middle of the night to scream it three times at the top of your voice before going straight back to sleep: “I’m a tiny boy. I’m a tiny boy! I’M A TINY BOY!!!”

So you’re a tiny boy, a strong and brave tiny boy who’ll happily go off and explore the furthest reaches of the garden on your own, with a ‘bang’ (hammer) in one hand and a ‘see-saw’ (saw) in the other in case there’s something to fix. Even if there isn’t you’ll crouch down and bash on a fence post or a stone; you’re always so busy doing stuff. On Christmas day you spent four hours putting sand into the trailer of your new tractor; you had such a nice time.

I’ve been upstairs the last couple of months converting the loft into bedrooms, one of which is for you and your brother. You’re always desperate to climb up the ladder to do some work, and on the rare occasion when you’re allowed up there you grab a piece of wood, the tape measure and your ‘bang’, pop a pencil behind your ear (like papa) and get straight to work. When asked what you’re doing you say, without looking up, that you’re making a new bedroom for baby Sen (what you and your brother call the new baby due in May).

You don’t just copy what we do though; the inventive little games you come up with are amazing. The other day I watched you get four empty storage boxes and the laundry basket, line them all up, then climb into the last box, pretending to be in a carriage on a train. You’ll lie on the ground playing with cars, knocking them over and saying, “Oh no! A disaster!” Whispers under blanket dens, unintelligible shouts as you sprint around the garden following some made up rules, peculiar conversations between your toys: all your own doing, all mysterious, all awesome.

When we get you dressed to go out in the cold, you love to have your mittens on. However, as with everything else in your life, if they’re not perfect you’re paralysed until the issue is sorted. “Baby Fred! Baby Fred!” you’ll cry, pointing to the loose thread. Everything’s fine once it’s been snipped off. Sometimes, however, the issue triggers a terrible tantrum and you scream and cry and go stiff as a board for 5 to 15 minutes. It’s horrible and there’s very little we can do to help you so we just put a cushion under your head and reassure you that everything’s alright, and eventually you calm down. It’s always little things that set you off such as losing a small piece of green felt or actually wanting the stick that you just threw into the lake. We feel bad for you as you clearly can’t help it, and hope this phase passes quickly.

We just had your birthday dinner – pizza and ice-cream – during which you had this conversation with your mummy:
Milo: “Wow, listen!”
Corrie: “What is it?”
Milo: “A dinosaur, outside.”
Corrie: “What’s he doing?”
Milo: “Just walking.”

You have this very cute habit of whispering “Wow!” whenever I give you something. The thing itself is almost always utterly mundane but you’ll greet receiving it with secret enthusiasm. Everything’s amazing to you!

You’re so smart little Milo, so able, so quick to get how things work. You enjoy doing stuff that your brother does and nowadays you’re not too far behind him. You draw really well and although the results are dense black scribbles in the corner of the paper, the effort you put into them and your ability to use the pens and pencils means you can enjoy doing what Soren does. You can’t ride a bike yet like Soren, but you can race along in his wake on your (4-wheeled) bikey: it looks like fun.

You play so well together now, you and your big brother, genuinely having a wonderful time playing silly games, wrestling, jumping off stuff, wriggling under stuff, pulling each other along on stuff, or simply watching a DVD together and offering your interpretation of what’s going on. This often leads to Soren getting annoyed with you and punching you, as with ‘Totoro’:
Milo: “She’s fallen over.”
Soren: “No, she’s asleep.”
Milo: “She’s fallen over.”
Soren: “No, she’s asleep!” Punch.
But he doesn’t mean to be horrid to you, he’s just trying to help you be right.

You’re absolutely awesome little Milo; slightly mental, but incredibly funny, and really good fun. I’m so proud to be your papa, and I love you very, very much.

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Sorry Milo; I’m not sure what happened this month but I’ve only got 3 photos of you this time!

And to make things even worse I’m running out of new things to say about you. Which I suppose is normal as your development is becoming a little simpler and straightforward.

You’ve got the hang of walking and running and riding your bikey and the other dangerous things that are available. You are very keen on talking (in English and French) – mummy understand you, I get most of it, and everyone else struggles a bit to be honest. But it won’t be long before you’ll be chatting to everyone.

You play well with your brother these days, coming up with silly games and funny noises. Often he’ll end up punching you and you punching him, but up until that point it’s lovely to see you two getting on so well.

You’re still happy and laughing one minute and screaming with rage or crying in mortal pain the next. It’s probably a little tough for you but at least you’re getting to experience everything life has to offer. And unlike your big brother at your age, you don’t get frustrated with things rather than the situation: if it’s not how you want it to be it’s the end of the world. For a minute or two anyway.

You’re sitting quietly playing with a basket of toys as I’m typing this, occasionally coming over and saying ‘cuddle papa’ with your arms up-stretched. It’s amazing how independently you can play and I’m very proud of how inventive and ingenious you are, but I’m also glad that I still have a role to play, at least for now.

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Milo is mainly about talking these days.

Sure he climbs up stuff, slides down stuff, runs past stuff, rides stuff, falls over stuff…. But that’s old news. And talking is old news too, but he now does it so much, and in proper sentences too! It’s awesome; one word at a time, but strung together to tell us exactly what’s going on. “Soren. Hit. Milo. Hurt” for example.

Coupled with this is his new attitude. “What do you want for breakfast Milo?” “Nothing.” It’s cute, but doesn’t get us very far. He does counter this with a positive approach to some things. “How’s your Milk Milo?” “Licious.”

Milo and Soren are getting on really well these days. They play together, making up silly games and making each other laugh; it’s delightful and makes us smile. And even though Soren’s much bigger, Milo gives as good as he gets if things go too far and Soren starts getting aggressive. At this stage Milo’s punches are cute but I suppose it’s not something we should be encouraging by our stifled giggles.

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Now you’re running! We had a load of family over  in July and your slightly older cousin ran everywhere – you copied him and now jog all over the place. It’s still with a homeboy limp, but you can go quite fast now. You can go up and down steps pretty well, and are attempting to master the stairs. It won’t be long before nothing is an obstacle any more.

You’re definitely a master of your little bike and can bomb round the bumpy courtyard, screeching round courners, zooming down hills.

Everything you hear you try to say. Your latest word is ‘buggerbike’ (motorbike) but there are countless others: tractor, mushroom (badger badger), bonne nuit, bonjour, Sonn (Soren), look, shoes, bikey, I love tractors…digging… sand, baby…sad…crying, mnilk (milk), nothing, no mine, wee wee, hiya mum, dar (car), duddle (cuddle)….

You and your big brother play really nicely at the moment, although Soren sometimes has trouble sharing with you. Chasing or running games are your favourite and you make Soren absolutely crease up!

So far you’re not really what we’d call ‘an eater’. Or what anyone would call ‘an eater’ actually. You’re big and strong for a 19 month old, but it might be an idea if you started eating proper food sometime soon, please.

You’re really good at playing with things on your own, picking something up and making car noises as you pretend it’s a car driving it over the furniture, or making something, or bashing pieces of wood with a hammer. You’re inventive and confident and happy to try stuff to see what happens.

Every day is filled with you being incredibly cute and charming and then incredibly whingey and difficult. The trouble is you’re trying to do stuff a 4 year old would find tough so it’s no wonder you get frustrated. Once you get the hang of whatever it is though it’s all good… but that can take a while and until then it’s A DISASTER!!!

We watched some old videos of you when you were much littler: you’ve changed so much in the last few months! Talking and walking and playing and wondering around doing stuff on your own. You’re a beautiful brave little boy and it’s fun being your dad.

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Four years old, eh! Before too long you’ll be able to actually read these blog posts :-/

Most of your third year was spent living with grandma as we’d moved out of our rented house and were waiting for our French adventure to begin. You loved it there because you love your grandma so much. Every evening you’d welcome her home from work with an ear-splitting ‘GRANDMA!!!!’ as you ran down the hallway to the front door to meet her. You’d play games with her and go for walks on the cricket field behind the house or go to the playground through the woods.

At about 3 1/2 you turned ‘normal’ and started having little bouts of rage. This wasn’t too bad for us – you were still an absolute delight most of the time – but you seemed to struggle. So screaming and crying and being grumpy and mean were all added to who you are. You still do all these things but we can tell that you’re more in control of your feelings these days and they don’t seem to rule you so completely as they did in those early days. Well, not all the time anyway. It’s not easy growing up is it.

Of course your language has greatly developed, and you often regale us with your hilariously enthusiastic tales and funny made up words. You recently explained to us all that ‘A petit ba is a broken frog with its toe in the road’. Since moving to France 6 months ago I’ve failed to teach you much French. You’ve mastered ‘oui’ and ‘non’ and ‘bonjour, ca va?’ and ‘un, deux, trois, soleil!’, and can speak in what sounds like French but is actually just French noises, but that’s about it. I’ve got a couple of months until you start school to teach you more.

Physically you’re strong and energetic and love climbing, dangling, swinging, jumping, dancing, running…. You can easily walk 3 or 4 miles if we’re going through the woods; you’ll climb over fallen logs or throw twigs into the river or trail a ‘fishing stick’ with you (inadvertently hitting us with it as you spin round). If the walk is a little dull however, you’re forever backing up in front of me demanding ‘shoulders’ – you’re getting too heavy to carry for too long I’m afraid. You became too heavy for your bike seat a while back so we got a tag-along bike which you love! We go out for great bike rides on your ‘mini bike’ and go pretty fast down the hills shouting ‘woo-hoo!’. When you’re in your ‘why’ mode it can be a pain having you right behind me – ‘Daddy, why are cows?’ – but I know you’re just excited and having a nice time.

You’ve made lots of nice friends here in France, and can get along with different types of children pretty well. Girls who boss you about are the ones you seem to like the most, even though you eventually go in a grump if they don’t let you do what you want to do some of the time. Running around screaming nonsense, digging in the soil, bouncing on the trampoline, riding ponies, splashing in pools… you have lots of fun!

You’ve been a big brother for a year and a half now. At the beginning it was easy, but for a while, when Milo started getting in your way, you couldn’t help but whack him all the time. He’s now a source of great amusement for you and creases you up every day. You teach him new words – ‘Say ‘mushroom’ Milo’ – and play silly games with him such as ‘sinking sands’ (taking off the armchair cushions and getting stuck in the rubber strips underneath) or run round the garden holding hands and then falling over laughing as he clambers over you. Your games almost always end up with Milo hurting himself and crying, but it’s ok, it’s not your fault.

You don’t notice but Milo thinks you’re awesome. You do something and 3 seconds later he’s trying to do it. You’re a very strong little boy and you can jump very high. Milo’s only little and when he copies you he can only just about manage to get off the floor. No matter what it is that you do you have a little boy following close behind you. It’s lovely to see, and you’re a wonderful role model for him, however it does mean that he’s attempting some things that even you find difficult. Luckily you’re always there if he ever falls and hurts himself… to stand and watch as he cries. You’ve only recently started trying to help him out and give him a kiss if he cries.

It’s so difficult to summarise your entire year. Mummy would probably do a better job as I seem to forget the details. However I do know that it’s been a year in which you’ve grown up an amazing amount, becoming a complicated, funny, opinionated and strong little boy. As always it’s a pleasure to be around you, even though sometimes you’re really hard work. I think that’s probably me though: I’d never spent all day, every single day with you before we moved to France and I suppose I’m probably really hard work most of the time.

Your 4th birthday party was ace. You had loads of friends round including granmy and gunda, and it was a hot sunny day. We swam in the pool (you floated nude on your pirate boat for about an hour), made butterfly and bug wings out of cardboard, ate delicious mushroom birthday cake that mummy made, ran around in your new ‘S’ t-shirt looking at bugs in your bug viewer…. It was a wonderful day.

I feel like I should go on to list all the things you do now, such as riding your balance bike downhill for ages with your feet up, riding Hip-Hop standing on the saddle, ‘helping’ me lift heavy things and making the appropriate accompanying noises, drawing cool creatures with fat bodies and spindly legs, drinking a cup of chocolate milk and then just chucking the cup on the floor, excitedly pointing out wildlife and making up names for them (buzzards are called gliders), watching loads of DVDs, playing peculiar silent games with French children you meet when we’re out and about, sleeping sideways on top of the covers quietly snoring, using a fork to pick food up from the plate only to then take the food from there to your mouth using your fingers, instinctively reaching up for my hand when we’re out together….

Suffice to say you’re you, a lovely little boy, a lovely little son. Love you Soren.

PS Stop growing up so quickly!

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There’s not much new to tell you about this month. Walking and talking are the main things you’re up to, but you’re also: swinging from your big brother’s trapeze swing; riding your bike around the courtyard, garden and field; climbing up ladders at every opportunity; watching ‘The Gruffalo’ from start to finish, transfixed; making us all laugh with your funny walks and silly faces; nodding your whole body when we ask if you want something like ice cream….

You’ve always had a temper but recently it has blossomed into genuine fits of rage accompanied by primal screaming, lying face down on the floor, and a letterbox-red face. You do struggle if things don’t go to plan but I must admit I do too, although I tend not to go so red.

You’re coming up to 1 1/2 years old and I don’t think I’ve made the most of your babiness. You’re amazingly cute, terrifyingly temperamental and already nearly a little boy.

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Milo’s walking!

Milo’s talking!

It’s been a particularly lively month.

Once he’d taken his first steps it wasn’t long before he was off exploring the furthest reaches of the garden on his own, often carrying a shovel or a sharp stick with him, just to make it a bit more interesting. He’s very capable and can go up and down steps, across gravel, bumpy grass and crumpled carpet with ease, but when he does fall it tends to be with his head against something made of concrete. It never puts him off though and he’s often seen toddling around with fresh tears still on his cheeks.

From a distance you’d think Milo was talking English but if you get closer (if you can catch up with him as he’s zooming off into the workshop to fetch a saw) you realise it’s just noises that sound like real words. A lot of these noises are those strange clicks and gurgles African tribes use: maybe he’s a natural linguist and we’re too stupid to recognise what he’s saying. They are delightful noises though, and he makes them whilst looking at you with a slightly furrowed brow and an earnest expression – it’s as if he’s trying to tell us something. Corrie’s got a long list of all the words he can say, the different insects he can point out, the places on his body where he’s injured himself: it’s awesome how smart this tiny tanned blond creature is.

So walking and talking eh. Whatever next!

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It’s been a busy month for visitors which has been great for you: you’ve always had a hand available to hold to take you for a walk. You’ve definitely got the hang of it, wandering over uneven ground with ease… but always with someone holding your hand. The main reason you bother seems to be to make Soren laugh, and the spazzy foot stomps you do on purpose crease him up!

The new slide was finished not too long ago and you climbed up the ladder and slid down the slide with absolutely no fear at all. Which is wonderful; I’m very proud. But it’s also terrifying and worrying! Climbing out of the window and standing on the outside window ledge was a highlight – even for you – putting your bouncing on the sheep fence and clambering to the top of the step ladder and rocking backwards and forwards to shame. You are very practiced at being stunt baby so I really should have more faith in your abilities.

How do you know how to make things work? It’s amazing to watch you fiddling with something electrical and after just a few seconds you’ve switched it on or selected a different track or changed the language to Cantonese. And similarly, taking things apart that work perfectly well – what a skill. I’ve only just started to master that one.

You’re still not much of an eater although you’ll devour crisps you find in the footwell of the car or rock hard bits of bread from under the sofa. And, whilst it’s a bit of a worry, you seem to be doing OK on this diet… supplemented by tremendous amounts of milk.

You are very, very chatty these days, although pretty much everything is ‘dih’ accompanied by a point of the finger. Sometimes you have lengthy conversations with us, and it sounds like a real language except nobody else can understand it. Soren occasionally offers a translation, but he’s inclined to using made up language too, so he’s not 100% reliable.

We can’t wait for you to start walking on your own next month – we know you’ll love it!

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It’s been a busy couple of months!

Most of your first month as a one year old was spent in England doing the sorts of things you’d already got the hang of: climbing up stairs, opening and slamming doors, bashing yourself against hard things…. And once – just once – you walked. Five confident little strides. But that was a one-off it seems.

Then, just after you turned 13 months old we all moved to France! The significant difference for you here is that you get to crawl around outside. You love digging in mole hills and climbing up fences (and hanging off the barbed wire) and opening gates and doing your super-fast crawling over to where Soren’s doing something exciting. And having spent so much time outside you’ve developed a lovely golden tan.

Other fun activities include…

• switching off the DVD player whilst Soren’s quietly watching something
• chatting on the phone (holding anything up to your ear) and saying ‘yeah, yeah, yeah’
• climbing up the rickety fire escape
• climbing into the bidet, often after Soren’s used it to wee in
• sitting astride things and saying ‘tick tick tick’ pretending you’re riding a pony
• taking heavy thing up the stairs with you to throw down the stairs
• zooming around the house on Soren’s old bike, reversing at top speed without looking where you’re going and bashing into stuff
• smearing Vaseline all over your hair.

This list isn’t exhaustive, but you get the picture: you’re up to all sorts!

You’ve been cursed with getting all your teeth at once and your gums look pretty sore, so we understand why you are grumpy and short-tempered sometimes. Well, most of the time. Once all your teeth have come through you’ll no doubt return to the calmer you.

Even though this blog update is very late it doesn’t mean you’re being ignored. These last couple of months have been hectic but they’re all about spending more time with you and your brother. And even though you’ve developed into even more of a nutcase recently, it has been wonderful to be around you all the time nonetheless. You’re an incredibly strong-willed little creature, so wildly adventurous and uncannily clever. You’re showing signs of talking soon – we can’t wait to find out what you’ve got to say!

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One already – gosh. Happy birthday you funny little boy!

During this final month of your first year you’ve firmly establishing yourself as a funny, bright, alert, and very brave little individual. If you carry on like this we predict you’re going to be a ‘lively’ toddler and probably grow up to be a stuntman.

So what have you been up to?

• Uttering new words such as ‘brother’.
• Shouting ‘DADA!’ from the other side of the house (we’re the ‘shouting from the other side of the house’ type of family).
• Really enjoying trying to walk and using the  furniture to help you get around.
• Sliding head first down the stairs.
• Not eating much when in your high chair but wolfing down fluff and stones and bits of paper you find under the table.
• Figuring out how to play any musical instrument – recorder, ocarina, guiro, xylophone, beer bottle….
• Waving properly at people as they go (or usually just after they’ve gone).
• Pointing at stuff and shouting! We’re not quite sure exactly what we’re meant to be looking at but I’m sure we’ll find out soon.
• Screaming for ice-cream like a wounded dinosaur.
• Waking up every 10 minutes during the night to shatter the silence with a terrifying wail – it’s probably worse for you, but it’s pretty scary for us.
• Spending hours playing in a cardboard box with your big brother.
• Climbing up onto a dining room chair all on your own, without anyone noticing. And then bogling.

Your first year has been quite different from your big brother’s in three significant ways:

1. We had more of a clue about what was happening so – I’m very sorry to have to say this – some of the things you did for the first time weren’t actually new to us. But your first (huge) tooth, your first (impressive) efforts to crawl, your first (loud) enchanting noises… they were all magical nonetheless.
2. We’ve spent your entire life living in other people’s houses. Soren’s first house was a lovely country cottage and had a great big garden to play in. I’m afraid your first house was a rented draughty old house in town with a tiny garden. And then your second house, where we are now, is your grandma’s house; lovely and spacious but again no garden for you to play in. I feel a bit bad about not having provided you with your own home with a garden to play in, but you don’t mind of course: who needs a garden when you can bump your head on a door or collapse down the back of the sofa!
3. You were born in the winter. The night you were born was cold and snowy and the midwives weren’t even sure they’d be able to get to our house to help you be born. As it turned out you fancied being born in Lancashire rather than Cumbria so an ambulance took your mummy along the snowy roads down to the hospital. We both reckoned you’d have preferred it at home, but you’d made your mind up and no-one was going to stop you getting your own way! Being born in the winter means more colds, more layers just to go outside, more time spent indoors…. But by the time you were old enough to enjoy being outside it was summer, so I suppose we shouldn’t feel too guilty about the timing.

I never knew you could love someone so much until Soren was born. I never knew you could love someone else so much as well until you were born. And even though some of your small life’s milestones haven’t been that exciting for us, the way you’ve reached them has been an absolute delight, and has taught me that even though I think I’ve seen it all before, the important part of the events – your wondrous, adventurous first experience – is brand new for all of us and very definitely unique to you.

So from a chilly start in the middle of the wintry night to a happy, adventurous bundle of smiling blue-eyed energy, your first year has been a bit of a surprise to me: I thought that, having been through this before, it would be a doddle. Your first year has been quite challenging for me but as I’ve slowly settled into how it works having two children, it’s becoming more and more fun, and getting to know something new about you every day is exciting, for you and for me. It would be lovely if you could stay one year old for a little while, but I think the excitement of your next twelve months is worth getting on with!

Happy birthday you funny little boy!

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