Last weekend we were in the garden and you reached out to ‘stroke’ a bee.
A bee, you’d told me just twenty hours before who was “going to the flowers, to get pollen to eat – to take home, to make honey”.
I shrieked at you, a knee jerk reaction so completely over the top – it made you fearful. I think I ruined bee’s for you in that moment. I’m sorry, I can be a bit neurotic.
You see the best thing about you is your curiosity and fearlessness. I’m desperate that we cultivate that.
I don’t want anyone to tell you that you can’t touch something because its dirty or it might have germs. Who cares? Just touch it, we can always hose you down later.
Unless its poo. You really wanted to touch that owl poo last weekend, I saw the thought enter your brain. Please try to not touch any poo.
You want to be outside, you want to be given jobs – things to do with your hands, physical things.
You are always asking “what can I do?” or demanding “I can do that!”.
You have a serious issue with winning. Don’t get me wrong, being competitive is a great personality trait but you really ought to let me go down the stairs in front of you, without having the screaming ab-dabs for ten minutes. We’re going to have to curb that a little bit.
You are very physical with how you love. The important people in your life are kissed on the lips and often held down against their will, in some kind of overly passionate head lock.
You tell these important people that you love them, without any prompting.
You ask me if I have a “ed-ake“.
You say you will look after me.
You’re big for your age, which sucks because everyone expects more from you.
You smell like Marmite and there is always dirt under your finger nails.
You are eager to be as tall as Daddy and seem to be under the impression that on your third birthday you will be.
We have been counting down to your birthday this week on your fingers. You have already mastered one to five.
You like to throw in a random sixteen every now and then.
You are very sociable, you have discovered the art of making friends. I watch you approach children you don’t know and say “I am Finley” or “this is tiger”. Sometimes they don’t talk back to you because they are older and busy playing. My heart breaks for you in these moments but you just shrug it off, it doesn’t seem to stop you trying again.
You keep everyone very busy and chasing their tails – or your tail more often than not.
You are capable of eating an entire watermelon.
You are still obsessed with cheese.
We all love you very much, happy birthday my little blonde haired maverick xxx
Its been a good year, here it is in pictures.