Saturday, November 10, 2007

the passions of ivy



undergarments
When not crawling around the floor with Mummys bra, Ivy is obseessed with socks - pulling them off, eating them, putting them in the mouth of others and on her head.

daddy
Ivy is madly in love with Keith, throws herself out of my arms to get to him, and races off down the hallway at top speed if the baby-gate isn't up, to crawl into his office and gaze lovingly up at him.

kitchen cupboards
These are the Forbidden City to Ivy - if a door is open her eyes widen with the thrill of exploring new territories, and she races acoss the floor to them. Even though they are always closed before she gets there, she doesn't get upset - just sits back as if to say 'Next time, you're mine...' and then returns to her Tupperware drawer, where she keeps all her treasures (dummies, orange segments, bits of fluff and socks).

the metal thing on the supermarket trolley
Ivy loves to chew the sprocket that connects the pay-trolleys to the line. If stopped, she is furious. If I can't distract her with other objects, I try and clean it with a baby-wipe and let her chew, avoiding the glares of horrified old ladies.

astrid the peace loving dog
Made by Aunty Sammy, Astrid is Ivy's sock puppet bedtime toy. When Ivy goes to bed now, she does laps of her cot for up to an hour; Astrid in one hand and sock in the other, until she finally wears herself out and sleeps where she drops.

books
Last, and most importantly, Ivy loves her books, especially Spot Goes To The Farm, and the ratty, single page left of the board book featuring babies doing different things - babies take a bath, babies play with toys, etc. She will carry it everywhere and brandish it above her head excitedly. "Check it out, Mum! They're babies! And they're in the bath! Babies in the bath, look! LOOK!'

1 comment:

Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.