Word up!

When I started this blog a little over a month ago, I lamented that Millie was obsessed with a few words, namely Daddy. Well, I'm back in the game! 'Mummy' is the mot du jour (evidently still feeling the after effects of gay Paris).  Added to that, Mim seems to have added to her repetoire considerably.

While she's been rattling off farm animals, parts of the body and food items (most passionately) for a few weeks now, there has been a definite upsurge in both words and an understanding of the context in which they should be used. All of this has followed recovery from a mammoth nursery cold. I'm sure I read somewhere that developmental leaps come after a bout of sickness? Perhaps there's something in it? It hasn't worked for me, mind?!

Highlights of the week include:

• On arrival at cousin Fred and Billy's house she exclaimed 'door!' as we waited outside, then pointed to the porch light and said 'light', rapidly followed by 'on!' as it illuminated.
• Her animal vocab, of which monkey is at the forefront, has expanded to include giraffes, camels, elephants (with sound and mime effects Uncle Lawrence and Aunty Jess) and the lesser-spotted 'rufflo' - that's the Gruffalo to the uninitiated.
• After weeks of kicking off royally at the faintest hint of a nappy change, and I mean kicking off to the extent of abseiling off her changing table with her vest flapping in the breeze and her screams at a pitch only audible by dogs and dolphins, she's had a remarkable turn around. She has now taken to announcing she wants changing via the cunning method of saying 'bum' and toddling off to fetch her changing mat, placing it just so, then plonking herself down on it. 
• Half an hour spent stood at the window pointing and marvelling at the spectre of the moon as it disappeared and reappeared from behind shifting clouds. This was accompanied by persistent shouts of 'Moon, moon, moon!' throughout its appearance, to woeful cries of 'gone!' whenever a cloud obscured it.
• Telling me she's tired. Thanks Mim, I know this. I know this because I too am tired, tired becuase you elected to wake up at 4.45am this morning raring to go. They give with one hand...   

Quite why all of this makes me feel like I'm raising some kind of child genius I don't know? The small, rational part of my brain tells me that this is all fairly standard stuff, so I can only imagine it has something to do with that cruel and all-powerful proud parent gene. The one that robs you of the ability to show any kind of objectivity towards your offspring. It's a cruel mistress, particularly as it leaves you with your sense of self-awareness intact. You know you've gone over to the dark side yet are powerless to do anything about it.

Oh well, until normal order has been resumed (I reckon around Mim's teenage years when she is conducting herself in a mardy manner of which I am less proud) I will keep the basking in parental pride between myself and the good husband. He's worse than me. Yep, that bad!