Playing catch up

Daniel in FRa

That rather gorgeous picture is me in France. I know, stunning, aren’t I? I have agents turning modelling jobs away, left, right and centre. Anyway.

So, it’s been a while. Alright, it’s been over a year. I’ve been very busy. I’m now two, and we two year olds have a reputation to uphold. Reign of terror to unleash on unsuspecting parents, and that kind of thing doesn’t just happen you know. It takes months of planning, collaboration with colleagues, preparation. Plus, I’ve been keeping up the campaign against sleep, and while it’s been highly successful on the parent front (Mummy is getting more like a zombie everyday) it’s now starting to impact on me too, which I am less impressed with.

What’s new? I started nursery today. It’s great, there’s loads of stuff I don’t get to play with at home like sand and stuff, and loads of different new toys, and there’s other children there too, which quite frankly has its ups and downs. They’re ok and everything but at the end of the day more children means less chance I get to do exactly what I want. Plus Mummy and Daddy left me, so I had two and half hours of freedom. It was good to get them back, after all I can’t torture anyone quite like those two, but it was great to have new people to suss out and somewhere new to play in. And they’ve got a garden, which we haven’t at home – I definitely saw cars and bikes out there so maybe if it’s not raining next week I’ll get to play out too.

I can talk. That’s a new development I nearly forgot to mention. It’s great too, so many possibilities. I can totally get the cute thing going, just by having a go at some ridiculous long word like Mr Carburettor. Or ridiculous for that matter. Old folks just melt. I get a quick laugh by repeating what Mummy and Daddy are saying when they don’t think I’m listening – honestly, talk about easy to please. And I wind them up something rotten by saying no all the time or by being contradictory. You can get away with murder too when you’re my age. I can call Mummy and Daddy silly, and they think it’s adorable, soft beggars. I don’t think I’ll be getting away with that forever.

I’ve been back to France. That was great fun. We had a garden there too and I played ball. And there was a tractor, it was fab! And we went back to the seaside and being the mature, sophisticated young man that I am, I didn’t get scared by it this year. And I learned to say bonjour and au revoir and had pretty much everyone we met at my feet. Oh yes.

Been pretty rough back home though. Mummy kept going to hospital, which was actually pretty cool because every time it happened people kept buying me sweets and toy cars and stuff. I just wish I could have had that stuff without her being poorly because it knocked my routine out something rotten. We kept going out right at bedtime and Grandma and Grandad kept coming for me to go to their house. Now, normally this is just great, but I do appreciate a little warning first, people. Anyway, she’s been back home now for a few weeks, which is good but also the sweets and cars have dried up. But I’ve heard there’s this bloke called Santa who’ll bring you anything you want. For free. Honest. So I’ve asked for a bike but I’ll believe it when I see it.

That’s pretty much brought me up to speed. Might try another post with more profound reflection at a later date.

Oh, and one last thing. Mummy and Daddy keep mentioning a baby sister. Not quite sure what the crack is there, but I’ll let you know. As long as it doesn’t disrupt me too much I don’t mind.


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