My growing little lad

Not so long ago when Mark was back and we went away with friends, I looked on in awe at what a grown up little chap our friend’s son is.  Only one month divides him and Alby however he seemed to me months ahead of my chappie – sitting calmly as his mother read to him, standing at the counter helping his dad make his dinner, following basic instructions and even starting to say a few words. 

Well, as recently noted, Alby has yet to move on from babbling but crickey has he grown over the past month.

Whereas one month ago putting a lift-the-flap book in front of him would merely result in me being left with a pile of ripped off card, today he works his way meticulously through his Baby Beethoven rhyme and Goodnight Spot books which are his current favourites.

Every time I get down to chores in the kitchen – be it the washing up, cleaning surfaces, making a drink or cooking, Alby is right in there.  A few days ago I rudely started filling up the sink without having a chair there for Alby.  Boy was I told.  First he tugged at my legs and then pushed them, then he walked over to the closed door and smacking it until I opened it up.  Then he ran off to the chair and bashed the seat of it until I moved it into the kitchen.  Running at my side he cackled when finally lifted into it.  Not yet finished, he whined until the scrubber was in his hand and the water was being splashed across the counter.

When playing he will fetch toys that you point out, or not even point out, ask him to get “the yellow car” or “the red brick” and nine times out of ten he’ll do it.  

And finally, to prove what a total grown up he had his breakfast and dinner sat up at the table.  Choosing to ignore that his chin hardly reached the table he happily ate his way through the entire meal – even drinking from his cup without then emptying the contents across the table.  (Don’t go thinking he’s too impressive though – Percy’s water bowl went flying only moments later).

Just having my morning toast

Just as I did when Mark’s R&R was coming close I spend my days wondering “what will daddy make of you, Alby?”