Bubbles?

We’re approaching the terrible twos. She knows all her colours (but confuses bue and purple every now and then) and when she counts it goes “mama, too, fwee, foh, fiyve, six, eight, too, fwee, fiyve!”.

She loves stairs. Loves ’em. Try and walk her past a set of stairs and she will lose all her temper if you do not let her climb them as many times as she wishes which is many, many times, so pretty much any set of stairs will end in angry tears at some point.

She is imperious. “No, mama!”, “Stop!” and that can be in answer to anything from “shall we change your nappy?” To “would you like a bicbic?”

The last time I asked her if she was ready to stop arsing around and go to sleep she put her finger to my lips and shushed me.

Dada ran her a bath the other night and shouted down the stairs for her when it was ready. She hopped up and ran up the first couple, then stopped and yelled “Bubbles??” and would only carry on up the rest when he confirmed yes, he had put bubbles in the bath.

Last night when I was feeding her to sleep she kept putting my hand on her tummy so I could rub it like I used to when she was tiny.

Her favourite teddy is a small stuffed Peppa Pig. We tried to buy a second when she got really attached to it in case we lost the first but when it arrived it was fractionally bigger. Oh well, she won’t notice, we thought. SHE DID NOTICE. She was horrified at this slightly larger new Peppa until I hastily explained this was Big Pep, Normal Peppa’s cousin. She was very cold to poor Big Pep for about a week, until Big Pep was very suddenly accepted into the fold and now she won’t sleep without both Normal Peppa or Big Pep.

 

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