The second coming creeps ever closer - 3 weeks today until we look upon the face of our little Banana. I've been buying wool nappies online; begging and borrowing loads of other stuff, sewing together all the beautiful squares knitted by his many aunties, farting terribly, and watching Keith's eyes glaze over as I make him discuss storage solutions. Again.
The big Daddy himself has been building bookshelves and cabinets, and trying to get as much work don as he can before he takes a Banana break. He has to squeeze jobs in around Ivy, who is so passionate about her Dad that she can barely let him leave the room. Often her first words when she opens her eyes in the morning are 'Dada?' and she kisses and hugs him (shouting 'Ug!') with pure adoration.
We've had some lovely visits lately from both the Mogan and the McIntosh clans. Pics to follow.
Ivy has lots of new tricks. She talks non-stop, commentating on her own performance through life. 'Tanding!' she announces with pride whenever she stands on a new surface - chair, table, pillow, person. She also likes walking backwards and announces that too. 'Backers!' The problem is when she combines the two sports - once she's climbed the coffee table, 'Backers!' is not what I want to hear.
She's into crayons now too; and I don't know whats going on in her head, but the last couple of days, shes been scrawling over every surface she can find and muttering 'Eyes, eyes, eyes...'
We're getting her ready for toilet training with lots of commentating of our own. 'Look, Daddy's going to the toilet! That's where we poo!' Today I had to wee in a jar for the obstetrician, so I took Ivy along for the show. 'Look Ivy! I said brightly. 'Mummy's weeing in a bottle!'. She wasn't that interested until I showed her the specimen jar. Then her eyes lit up. 'Juice!' she cried.
Right now a steady rain is filling the tanks, Ivy is fast asleep with Warm Tiger in her arms, the eggplant is bubbling in the oven, Keith is on his way home and Banana has shifted off my sciatic nerve.
All is well.