He is two and a half. He climbs onto everything, he jumps off everything. He is crazy about trains and fire trucks. He loves to help me cook (“cut! cut! Daniel cut!”). He is very much into yoga (he calls it “goga”). He wears funky socks. His has a toy doctor’s set, and it’s his favourite. He puts all kinds of containers on his head and says he’s a robot or an astronaut. He makes ice cream from Play-dough and says “Mmm, yummy!”. He has a giant teddy and a toy rat as his best friends. We have a ritual of making a hot chocolate before bedtime, and smoothies in the morning, and I want to remember forever how spectacular the milk moustache looks on him. I also want to remember the faces he makes, the way he looks at me if he wants to do something he is not allowed to, how cute his little PJs look on the clothesline outside, what our quiet days at home are currently filled with. Being caught up in running the house, constantly picking up toys, wiping sticky cheeks and fingers, making sure he is fed (etc, etc) often makes it hard to see the beauty of it. But my camera is always near me, and I make a conscious effort to pick it up and it see it through the lens, all of it, in all its glory – our everyday that is to become a precious memory in a very short time from now.
They do grow up a bit too fast.