Friday, June 6, 2014

Life @ 2

So my dear Arthur you are 2 now. 

It seems like yesterday that you came into this world. You were whisked off to special care because you weren't breathing properly. I don't remember much of that because the anaesthetist was very OTT with the drugs. I didn't even get to hold you or see you until the next day. Daddy was with you though. And you two are still the best of friends. 
I do wonder if this was the start of your independent streak. By 18 months of age you had already been on your first expodition. 
We came home from dropping the big kids at school. I let you out of the pram, put Rupert to bed and went to the loo. While in the loo I heard a knock at the door. Strange , I thought. We are accustomed to many people dropping in - most walk in, pop the kettle on and then announce their arrival. I went to the door to find the nice NBN installing man on the front door step. He had you on his hip and quietly handed you back to me. 
"I found him on the corner" he said. I didn't ask whether it was the corner with the main road, or the corner with the busy suburban street. I didn't want to know. 

As the 3rd of four kids under 6 you are streetwise. And determined. This determination will take you far.  Though I do wish you would listen - cows definitely say "moo". They don't say "poo". Your determination had kept you alive. Not just at birth, but on the many hospital trips since. When you have been struggling for breath, your heart nearly popping out of your chest for all the hard work of gasping for air. This started when you were so small, as a baby - it really didn't seem fair. And yet with every asthma attack it seemed you find opportunity. Extra time with mum. The fish tank in ward 4k.  Getting to stay up late because the doctors had pumped you full of steroids and adrenaline and you were waaay to wired to sleep. You have a zest for life, and we could all take a leaf out of your book. 
Like the time we found you in the chook hut. I hadn't been able to find you for a good 1/2 an hour. I had checked the gates. They were still firmly tied and padlocked, so I knew you had to be in our yard or house somewhere. It was Ingrid who finally found you. You had decided to check for eggs. You crawled in through the chook door and found one. Needing all four limbs to crawl out of the chook size exit you popped the egg down your jumper for safe keeping. As you attempted to crawl out you had to lie flat and - oops. There goes the egg. You sat up and squished the egg a little through grandma's hand knitted jumper while you worked out how to un-jam yourself from the doorway. When we got to you, 2 chickens were jumping all over you from the inside, pecking all the egg off. From the outside the dog was jumping all over you licking with glee. You thought it was HILARIOUS. 

But you don't think everything is quite so hilarious. You like to show your disdain for things with an "oh mummy". Face wash Arthur? "Oh mummy". Shoes on Arthur "oh mummy". Mummy doesn't actually have to be involved at all. Last time Daddy was home I returned from the supermarket to "oh mummy. Oh mummy. Oh MUMMY. Oh MUMMY". Daddy was changing your nappy. 
And despite being a wild child and a rough nut you have a lot of love to give. Even if you have to cover yourself in your sisters lip balm and pucker up first!! 

Happy Birthday my dear. Xx

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