The small one is now the age the big one was when he was born.
This means the big one is now twice the age she was, and the small one is, well, infinity percent older.
It’s always very tempting to compare your children with each other in terms of their skills and achievements at certain ages, but it’s been very hard because my memory is so bad, and I wrote absolutely nothing down.
However I do remember the weeks leading up to and after the small one’s birth with remarkable clarity.
My oldest had never really tantrummed much to that point.
After the baby stage she was very pleasant, happy, and easily amused.
She would toddle round, picking things up, playing with them and smiling at strangers. I’m almost certain I haven’t made that up.
And then, one day when I was VERY heavily pregnant and suffering from SPD so badly that I’d been signed off of work, I felt a bit mum-guilty that she’d been sat in with sad fat pregnant me and took her to the small local park (same journey documented in pictures here) in her buggy.
This seems a strange choice to me now, but she can’t have been that eager to walk, unlike her brother who squawks ‘walk, walk, walk’ the entire time he’s strapped in until you just give up and let him wander free.
We got there, just about, and for a reason I can’t recall she threw the most almighty, flailing, wailing, kicking screaming tantrum.
I had no idea what to do, or how to cope.
I couldn’t force her back into the pushchair and so I had to sling her over one shoulder and the pushchair (thankfully, the lightest on the market) over the other and go home again. For a normal adult it is only a five minute walk but it was absolute agony.
Oh yes, I remember it well.
It wasn’t a one off, to my disappointment.
However, I did soon learn to cope with her frequent tantrums, primarily by ignoring them. I also recall the burn of shame I felt that day – I’ve not really felt it again since, even when others would have crumbled.
Seriously, if people are looking at you with anything other than sympathy when your kid is screaming on the floor in the park, they’re a massive bell-end.
The small one has been throwing enormous tantrums practically since birth.
It’s difficult to work out where the godwaful colic stopped and the screaming for fun began.
He now likes to throw himself on the floor on his front and crawl backwards towards the wall or under the furniture while screeching about the injustice (possibly).
It’s fairly amusing to watch. Perhaps by the terrible twos he’ll be all tantrummed out? I suspect this might be wishful thinking.
The big one was so much chattier than he is.
By this age she was putting two words together with ease, mainly for instructional purposes (like, MUMMY NO! SIT DOWN MUMMY!).
She had a whole repertoire (handily listed here) and from much earlier on could tell you that she wanted a drink (‘ick! ick! ick!’) or a snack (‘ack! ack! ack!’), as well as identifying things like shoes, keys, and cheese and saying cheers and yes (sheeesss for all of these).
Physically, he is much more confident than she ever has been.
He started crawling and then walking much earlier. He can jump.
It sounds stupid if you’ve never watched a kid grow up but jumping isn’t something that they can all do. It’s definitely fun to watch them trying.
However there is one skill that he is definitely miles behind his big sister.
Going to, and staying asleep. In his own bed.
This milestone age also marks one year and seven and a half months of absolutely no lie ins and only the odd full nights’ sleep.
The less said about evenings to oneself the better; it’s Valentine’s night and guess who is right here, celebrating it with us after two and a half hours of failing to go to bed?
Oh, darling boy.
You, with your fluffy head, and your perpetual whine, and your running about and your not sleeping, and your ridiculously perfect eyebrows and your epic cuteness.
What ever am I going to do with you?