What will Mark think?

I’m trying not to get too overexcited about the fact that Mark will be back on R&R in just three weeks time.  I keep telling myself that three weeks is not that much shorter than a month and a month is a very significant amount of time and, as such, I shouldn’t get excited until we’re three days away rather than 21 days (well 18 now actually).

But I can’t stop myself and no doubt this time next week I’ll be complaining about how slowly time is ticking by. 

With Mark’s arrival relatively close I’ve been increasingly wondering what in the world he is going to make of Alby.

In some ways nothing has changed – Alby still loves to see himself in the mirror, giggles when turned upside down, enjoys a good rendition of the Wheels on the Bus or the Incy Wincy Spider, can make a mess with yogurt like you wouldn’t believe and loves a morning story (especially the noisy or touch and feel books).

But in other ways he has changed tremendously.  He walks.  He babbles (honestly Mark, you’ll be so impressed by the range of noises Trouble Monkey now makes).  He applauds himself every five seconds and expects you to do the same.  He waves hello and goodbye on demand, not just five minutes after you request when the person he was meant to be waving at has already long gone.  He now feeds himself with his spoon and fork (ish) and drinks from his cup all by himself.  He’s given up on bottles. 

He’s still a snogger, but he is a hugger now too.  He’ll come for a reverse-sit cuddle on your lap or he will give you a back hug. (This is reserved for the most special of people who, when sitting on the floor, will suddenly find Alby pressed up against their back with his arms open wide).

He thinks he is the funniest person in the room.  I think he is the naughtiest.  He’ll ignore you completely for half and hour or more and then cry the minute you leave the room.  He’ll refuse his dinner and then stand in the kitchen arms stretched up to the fridge whining until you get down the Fruit and Fibre so he can put his arm in the packet and pull out a handful of cereal which he then slowly picks at – offering every other bran flake to Percy.  He will drink his water, then shake his cup up and down until you and he are both wet, and then hurtle his cup across the room (or if today is anything to go by, at the nearest person to him) all whilst tipping his head back in manic laughter (thank goodness for cups with lids). 

What’s more, he will tell you what he wants these days and complain if he doesn’t get his way – as witnessed this afternoon when I told him off for standing on his chair.  I took his chair away and got very swiftly cried at.  Or the other day he picked a 5p coin off the floor and put it in his mouth and cried when I took it off him. (I’m a very cruel mother.)

On Alby’s side, I hope that he makes Mark laugh.  I hope that he makes Mark proud.  On my side, I hope that Mark doesn’t get too cross with me for raising a Trouble Bear.  I hope that Mark doesn’t get to annoyed with me for calling him every five seconds to “come and look at Alby” as I desperately try to cram in three months of Alby experience into just 14 days.