Thursday, June 23
Molly is Two
You are two years old and absolutely bonkers. You started off as the quietest, most chilled out little baby, lulling us all into a false sense of security as you are now a bona fide nutcase.
You shout, you screach, you sing out of tune very loudly, you take your nappy off, you take your clothes off, you jump on top of me, you get out of your car seat straps, you kick your shoes off, you squirt moisturiser on the floor, you empty the shower gel into the bath, you smear yoghurt all over the table, you throw things down the stairs, you run away constantly, you climb on everything, you leap off everything you climb, you put the toilet roll down the toilet, you stick your hands in the toilet, you draw all over you arms, and when you're excited, you do a big excited smack on whoever's nearest to you at the time.
But at the same time, you have a lovely, sunny nature - always happy, rarely cross, never had a proper tantrum. And you're so funny, making us all laugh out loud every single day with your funny faces and amusing chatter ("Dog poo is... really nice" "Done a botty burp yesterday" "Molly's got hair, Gwen's got hair, Daddy's got no hair!" "Oh-my-god, oh-my-god").
At two years old you love dressing up (but only in either a fairy dress, a swimming costume or a dressing gown), talking about the time you fell in the stream, saying "Ziggy Zaggy", putting Gwen's nighties on, You Are My Sunshine, playing with Duplo, reading Tickle Tickle, doing everything Gwen does, a pat on the back at bedtime, Sing a Song of Sixpence, pretending to be a baby, picking flowers, splashing in the sea and being nakey.
For your second birthday, you sported a big huge shiner of a black eye from one of your many tumbles and ended the day by smearing black face paint all over the dining room walls and biting my big toe really hard when I wasn't looking.
Happy birthday, you little nutter.