Well, baby R is really beginning to vocalise now. Only yesterday she was a tiny infant who could barely differentiate her cries; I know that in a short blink of time she’ll probably be a sullen, unresponsive, grunting teenager. So for now, I’m enjoying hearing her little voice emerge, and I’m loving listening to her sisters learn to articulate their thoughts.
We had some friends and their kids over for Sunday lunch today and Maxi Minx waved goodbye to them. She was pouting out the window and starting to strop. “C’s so far away – how will she see my little small hand waving?” she wailed.
On holiday, Maxi made friends with twins, a boy and a girl. She was especially good friends with the girl, G, and usually complained that the little boy, J, was rough with her. On the last night, G and J came out their room (2 down from ours) and saw Maxi Minx all dressed up, ready for Mini Disco. “Oooooooh, P!” sighed J, “You look soooooo beautiful!” Both me and J’s mother gasped and blinked back tears. “What a lovely thing to say!” I exclaimed. Maxi Minx blushed and thanked him. The Boss darkly muttered something about lucky he was only 4 or he’d have had A Word.
Midi Minx’s speech is less garbled since she stopped getting ear infections every month, however she stills confuses Vs and Bs, and Ps and Bs. So Poppy becomes Bobby, clever becomes cleber. And Vaseline becomes ballallee. It took me till tonight to figure out that that’s what she’s been demanding for the last month for her chapped lips:“Mummy, gib me ballallee. Peeeeeease. Now, thankoo” “Ballallee? Is that one of your Tomliboos? A new Telly-tubby? Someone on CBeebies? A sweetie? A friend? Eh?!”
Yesterday Mini Minx was particularly pissed-off with not being picked up when she wanted to be. She’d cycled through her cute coos, her sharp shrieks and had graduated to cross chirps. Eventually she furiously beat her little fists on her cot bars and yelled, “Dadadadadadadada!” Once she was safely cuddled in my arms and had heard the reassuring click of my feeding bra being opened, she sighed, “Mumumumumummmmmmm”. So she’s already associating Mum with nice things and Dad with not-so-nice. Attagirl!
Finally, The Boss dropped a real pearler today. He was referring to our daughters as Maxi, Midi and Mini Minx (so I guess he reads my blog: gotcha!) And without skipping a beat, he called me Mega Minx. Hmph! No wonder I am, and will always remain, a Grumpy Old Trout!