Saturday, January 4
Wilf is One (and a bit)
You are 13 months old and you are the sweetest, smiliest, cwtchiest little boy.
You say 'Oof oof' when you hear Blod bark. You can say 'kiss'. You give us all big hugs.
You can cruise around now, and stood up completely unsupported yesterday. And, big news, you can climb the stairs - eek!
You like emptying the tupperware cupboard, pulling all the cutlery out of the dishwasher, posting pegs through the little gap in the kitchen stool, putting things inside other things, dropping miscellaneous items into my cup of coffee, putting unsuitable things in your mouth and then laughing and crawling away really quickly when I ask what you're eating. You play peekaboo games with us all the time.
For someone who barely ate anything until a couple of months ago, we now can not seem to fill you up. You love weetabix, toast, scrambled eggs, porridge, risotto, pasta, soup, mash, dahl... but most of all, you like yoghurt and chips, which are met with excited noises and thigh slapping when you see them/hear someone talking about them and great distress when they don't get into your mouth quickly enough. You absolutely hate fruit.
You are a very enthusiastic waver when people arrive at or leave our house, and make a very loud 'Hiyaaaaaa' type noise to accompany the waving.
You are just so bloomin' adorable, baby boy.
Lots of love,