When will he be able to...?

As has become somewhat customary, I shall begin this post with an apology for not writing more regularly. I actually have a number of half written posts that never made it to the light of day (or flickering light of an old monitor as the case may be), chiefly due to a simple fact I had previously overlooked, that being a dad is exhausting. Or perhaps I did write about them and have forgotten, as that is also a very real possibility with my soupy brain.

Here are some of the topics I was going to write about but instead drooled in a corner:

• First steps / New shoes
• Summer holidays
• First flight in an aeroplane
• More water baby antics / getting his first swimming badge
• Learning to use a spoon / There is no spoon (a little Matrix quote there for you)
• The desperation of a parent on a road trip with no food and a starving toddler / My Kentucky Fried Shame
• Will we ever sleep again / I no longer have a bed.

As parents we all eagerly await the next developmental stage for our children, "oh I cant wait until they can walk. I'm so tired of carrying him everywhere" or "just wait until he is talking, it will be so much easier to understand what he wants or needs". But when it comes we soon regret wishing away the precious "aww remember when he used to..."moments and we are certainly not prepared for what the new skills bring in addition. Noah can walk now, in fact he has been able to for several months now, so that's great, I don't have to carry him everywhere. I do however, now realise and miss the usefulness of  being able to carry him sometimes, travelling everywhere at the pace of a one and a half year old is slow going. Noah will never again go in his pushchair, the pushchair has become the chariot of the devil and not be trusted and Noah simply wont allow himself to be transported by Satan's wheels, end of story. And lets not forget the exploration that comes with being able to propel yourself at speed around this earth. Turn your back and he could be half way across the park in the middle of an amateur football match just as an example, he might even take it upon himself to retrieve the ball, so clearly unwanted by anyone as they keep kicking it away.  I'm just saying, it didn't really happen, honest it didn't, cross my heart. Apologies to any Dulwich Park football players, if you're reading this.


For many weeks Noah communicated by screeching like a pterodactyl and pointing until, by process of elimination, we deciphered what it was he desired. This changed when he was able to walk, instead he would grab you by the finger and drag you to the appropriate destination, usually the cupboard where his rice cakes are kept, before pointing and screeching like a pterodactyl. Oh how we longed for when he would start to talk properly and be able to tell us what he actually wanted. But perhaps short-sightedly we hadn't fully anticipated that this would mean he would be telling us exactly what he wanted. All the time. Or more specifically, what he doesn't want. "No no no no no no no no no noooooo" don't put me in the high chair. "no no no no no no no no no noooooo" I don't want breakfast, lunch, dinner. "No no no no no no no no no noooooo" I don't like my food/cot/car seat/spoon/your spoon/clothes/nappy/shoes/holding your hand/daddy carrying me/daddy not carrying me. Of course now I'm wishing for the next development again already; new words please, 'yes' being my word of choice.