Bye bye baby, hello small person. Streak of greased lightening. Smiling laundry-assassin.
Farewell peaceful cups of tea and newspaper-reading with gainfully occupied four and seven-year-olds.
I had a visit today from a favourite blogging friend, and we talked without stopping for about three hours while continually extracting Ivy from danger. As we were briefly inside the house looking out the window, we spotted this small person balancing on the arm of my just-vacated chair, and attempting to get over the balcony rail.
I'm shedding years, I tell you.
Just as well she's so darn beautiful.
And has a divine giggle.
And is the happiest of my three so far. Life is a riot. If she's lucky she can manage three baths in a day. Today there was a 5.30am bath after an early morning bottle of milk came back up for some unknown reason. I thought she might be terribly sick, but no. Casualties were the carpet, our handmade handwash wedding quilt, and my clean washing over the end of the bed. Eww. Darnit. Then another bath after a morning play at the beach. And then one tonight to minimise the damage of the pumpkin soup for dinner. Should have put her in in her clothes. Let's hope that's it for today.
She says 'puppy' and 'Mummy' and 'sit down'.
She happily travels long distances in the backpack, between pig yard and chook yard and front gate and dog walks.
She can spot a choc chip biscuit from a mile away and loves a shop-bought Corn Thin.
And without this blog I have no doubt that I would remember precisely nothing of her first sixteen months to this moment.
For the written record, my gorgeous small person, we cherish and adore you.
Now please get down off the lamp.