Old Before His Time

Oscar's talking is coming on in leaps and bounds, and he now uses full sentences which often sound like they should be coming from the lips of a 1940's public schoolboy (I have absolutely no idea how this happened). At his birthday party he was in full swing, telling everyone 'how lovely' it was to see them, and praising them on their choice of attire, which to me seems a bit quirky for a two-year old (but very sweet nevertheless). He hangs on every word that the grown ups around him are saying and repeats it back to them at a later date. He stood up after having his nappy changed last night, rubbed his back gingerly and said 'oooooh I'm sooooo stiff today'. It's probably a good thing that we have lots of visits from his little mates and he sees other children at playgroup, or we would be caring for someone with the body of a toddler and the brain of a slightly confused pensioner.

Play Away

Oscar now attends the village playgroup and is really enjoying it. We're getting some lovely artwork for our fridge, and I get to spend three whole hours up a ladder with a paintbrush in my hand twice weekly. I feel incredibly fortunate that we have such a good facility in our little village. I love walking Oscar up to playgroup in the mornings along the wobbly church path (he likes to have a horsey ride on my shoulders), hang his little coat on his peg and see him dash off and have fun with the other children. He runs up to me after the sessions with a big grin on his face, invariably covered in mud, paint, playdoh and flour, and tells me all about his adventures. For the first time he is doing things without me in tow, which I guess is the first small step on the wobbly path to independence.