I grovel

Dear Finn

I was told off by a friend the other day for not blogging enough, and I know it to be true. I realise that I need to write less more often, and that the natural consequence of not writing often enough is longer and more unwieldy blogs that have less point to them as I vainly try to keep up with every happening. Today I shall attempt a new beginning...shorter blogs more often. I can see the issues in this already raising their nasty little heads. Unlike my journo telling-off friend for whom writing is as natural as breathing, I find writing to sometimes be more like pulmonary odema. A certain mind set needs to be achieved. A certain peace and fluidity. All kids asleep is definitely a huge plus.

Aaah procrastination...the hero of inaction. Be gone.


So to begin.
In recent times you become more and more aware of language and the way in which you use it is a delight that increases every day. Your use of words is by turns cute and downright hilarious. Of the many incidents that make me so happy to have a talking toddler, these are just a couple.

One morning you got up and came into our room. You sat on the bed for a minute and then started exploring inside your pyjama pants as you commonly often do. We were all like...Finn take your hands out of your pants, what are you doing?
You were like...WOW my penis is really big!

I'm still not sure what the appropriate response is to such a pearl of wisdom...your Dad and I looked at each other and dissolved into giggles.

In a similar salute to your masculinity...on another occasion you had your hands down the back of your pants...are you getting the common theme here? and upon being told to take your hands out....you removed them, declaring that your hand smelled like farts.

One thing is clear.
You are all boy. Grubby, mischievious and really really keen to pick your nose, scratch your bum and fiddle with your willy.

love Mum.