Where do I start? It’s weird, but it feels like a lifetime ago when it was just Claire and myself in our own little world. Makes me wonder what we used to do when we had spare time, as it’s something that we dream of right now!
Oliver is a year old already; Jack is four.
Oliver is walking around this week like he’s always been able to, and likes to do what he likes to do. If that means hitting Jack on the head with a toy car, then so be it. Jack is taking it all though, which I’m quite surprised about. He’s been a lot better than I expected him to have been, considering that he’s having to shave everything he’s ever known with Oliver, like parents, toys, general attention, etc etc.
Oliver is learning ‘stuff’ already – we’ve got the same flash-cards that we used for Jack all that time ago, and have pinned them up in the kitchen. During lunch, we try to encourage Oliver to find the photo of the tractor, the fire engine, and so on, which he’s picking up really well.
Jack is… well, fantastic. He’s at the age now, or realistically has been for a while now, that we can trust him to do things. If we need to attend to Oliver, I feel happy telling Jack where we’ll be, and know that he’s safe enough and happy enough to hang on in there by himself, doing whatever he’s doing. Little star, really.
Claire’s been taking Oliver to baby-signing (with my sister and her two young kids), as she did before with Jack. He’s starting to try to say some things, whilst at the same time trying to mumble something, mostly about the dog. “Where,o-where, o-where is Al-fie dog-dog-dog?”…. is a phrase well versed in our house of late.
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