What are little boys made of? Frogs and snails and puppy dogs' tails, that's what little boys are made of!
I'm beginning to think it's true too! At 19 months, he's turning into a real boy. He still loves books and In the Night Garden, but his interests are evolving. He's obsessed with moving stones and pebbles from one place in the garden to another (maybe he has been watching too much Macca Pakka!), finding sticks to poke in earth, and squelching mud in his fingers.
As for acquiring a robust immune system, well, I think he may be ahead of schedule: yesterday's treasures included someone's used chewing gum, a discarded icecream stick, a cigarette butt and two used Q-tips. Lovely!
He got his first knee graze yesterday as well - running to the shop! He loves closing other people's gates (that's his father's side, can't abide open doors!), shaking railings - I've no clue! - and jumping on manhole covers to see if they will make a noise.
When his friend started to cry because he wanted to play with the plastic Hippo while she played with the Zebra, he gave her the Hippo as well. A proud day for any Mum, especially as I hadn't asked him, it was his idea.
Finally, recently we were driving to a local 'village' recently when James started to cry. I wondered why he was crying for no apparent reason. I soon realised: we had passed the turn off for his playgroup, he had thought we were going to playgroup!
As he grows he becomes more fascinating: he's a mix of both his father and myself, as well as characteristics that neither of us recognise. He is also his own person.
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