May. Amazing to think what we were doing this time last year.
My two little boys were just trying their feet out for size and had begun
walking toddling. We had our friends arriving from the US — in just a couple of hours — so that they could attend the boys’ naming day celebration, which would be in another 4 days time.
Roll on 12 months and the two little babies — with their fat little legs and chunky bodies — have now grown into two little boys.
I’ve noticed a huge difference even over the last month. They seem leaner and taller; they’re more agile and their ‘toddle’ has swiftly been replaced by a run.
Other things have started happening too; like they’ve begin to talk to each other when I’m not in the room.
I sit at my desk and often hear:
Bertie trying to attract Cosmo’s attention. Or Cosmo chattering away to Bert — often interspersed with:
‘NO Berteee, NO!’.
They love each other’s company too thankfully (well most of the time!). Two little companions, playing side by side. One blonde head, one dark, huddled together. Locks intermingling. Two sides of the same coin.
This month we’ve also seen some proper ‘twin talk’.
I’ve read about this and — absolutely — Bertie speaks in his own language. Cosmo’s speech is really good for his age, whilst most people still wouldn’t really understand what Bert was saying.
Instead of monkey, he’ll say ‘Oo-Oo — Oo-Oo’; cat is ‘Wow’, chicken is ‘Boc-Boc’. He makes the sound they make rather than says the name.
He’ll say –’Oo-Oo, bibeesh, Oo-Oo’ — which means ‘can you put the bib on the monkey?’. And — ‘Nanu-Nanu’ — whilst shaking the yoghurt pot. This means, can you scrape the pot for me please?
Weirdly, this one has also been adopted by Cosmo too. Even though he can say ‘scrape the pot’, he too has started shaking the yoghurt pot and saying ‘Nanu-nanu!’
A bit like Mork and Mindy even though they were born around 3 decades too late! ‘Mork calling Orson — come in Orson’.
I’m loving these times.
Spending time in the garden is a joy nowadays; my two little friends buzz around, chattering way to each other, busily doing whatever it is that a two year old does. My boy and I can get on with weeding, planting — sitting and contemplating.
Although I dearly miss those funny, wobbly babies that were living with us for a while, the two little boys that have replaced them are so much fun.
It just goes to show that, whatever stage we’re at — and however much I don’t want it to pass — it will be replaced by another phase. Just as lovely. Just as heartwarming.