This time two years ago, I hadn’t slept a wink, shed more blood than the red wedding and finally got some codeine off the midwife! It would be hours yet before the boy came into the world and impress us all with his lung power. Hours before me and hubs cried happy tears and cradled the small, pink and furious little fuzzy bundle finally realising: Shit. We’re parents now.
So what celebrations have we planned for this most glorious day? Well I’m going to ikea with William and mum. We know how to party! Tomorrow William will have his party, and I’ve hired a bouncy castle. (Although he wouldn’t go anywhere near the last one he encountered. Curses.)
His friends and family are coming to celebrate, hopefully he’ll refrain from any diva tendencies. I made him scrambled egg and bagels for breakfast, when I carried his plate from the kitchen he started wailing, and took himself to the far end of the kitchen for more wailing. Then stood by the French windows pouting. Before fetching his plate and going to sit on the stairs to eat. Charming. So far he’s played with two of his toys and not unwrapped any presents. He’s pretty stoked by the helium balloons. In fact so far I’d say they are his favourites.
I can hear him on the stairs counting to four. Let’s cross everything that he’s not counting ‘gifts’ from the cats. Captain seems quite excited about the birthday, Marms has yet to make an appearance.
So that’s it. We have a two year old. A whole two. And a year full of adventures that come with it!
In over news:
Poor old Captain was beaten up by the cat hubs refers to only as ‘that big ginger bastard’ our neighbour called to let us know he was cowering under her trampoline. He’d got so frightened he’d pooped himself. Suffice to say ‘that big ginger bastard’ has made my list.
Will has a penchant for spreading his wheeled toys everywhere, hubs and I have been skidding about all over the sodding place. Bets on how long until one of us breaks a bone.
The bald kitten is enjoying the World Cup (will he soon know the pain of supporting the England sqaud or will it actually ‘come home’ this year?!) He enjoys shouting ‘DOAL!!!’ Especially when no goal has actually been scored.