What mischief happens every minute with you at 19 months!
You tug and pull Ben and Becks to get your way, pretend to cry to get your “sayangs” and have even learned to smack Aunty S when you’re unhappy. You tear our books and throw paper out the window. You draw on the walls, the floor, the tables and all the chairs when you have been firmly told to only draw on the paper. You even run around with the crayon with a catch-me-if-you-can smirk when I demand it from you! It’s a good thing you do it with Crayolas now, which are washable. Those times you ran with my permanent markers? Argh. You’ve graffitised our walls very permanently too.
Boy oh boy, you’re turning out to be quite a naughty, cheeky one, aren’t you?
But you’re not just that, my love. No, no, no – you also happen to be the happiest person in the house! The house is filled with so much laughter because of you. You have an amazing ability to do the funniest things to leave us in stitches. You jiggle and dance, imitate everyone with a straight face and do the darndest things. Every waking moment with you is a happy one; if you’re not up to mischief, that is, and driving me insanely exhausted trying to keep you out of trouble.
You’re our funny boy.
You love Ben and Becks to bits and would want to be with them all the time. Now that you’re a little bigger, they are including you in their pretend play. I’m sure you’re having the best time of your life, being able to run with, and after, kor kor and jie jie.
You say a few words now and can call most of the people at home quite clearly. And Mama’s gotta be your favourite girl in town. You call her, and call for her all the time. You can’t be apart from her, it seems. The distance that is 5cm away is pretty much the distance you can comfortably be away from her on most good days. Nothing much has changed, really. You’re still the sticky you that has severe separation anxiety. You cannot be apart from the woman who bore you and is still nursing you, and she has no choice but to take you everywhere she goes. Every day. So when she had to drive everyone around when Dada was out of town last week, guess who wailed for Mama every car ride until he started retching?
It’s you, Nat my dear. My cheeky, happy, sticky you.
Yours to stick to, always,