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My daughter is a genius. No, really! Not only is her new word “Brilliant!” (as in, oddly, “The dark is brilliant, isn’t it Mummy?”) but she can draw with remarkable anatomical accuracy, as evidenced by this amazing chalk-on-blackboard representation of a giant:

Note the pointy head, eyes, mouth, central body, arms with hands, and you can’t see the legs with feet.

Clearly I should have sent her to nursery so she could develop to her full potential. She’s not quite two and a half, after all.

My daughter, today, is two years, 4 months, 27 days old. She is learning with knives.

She’s in the kitchen with Rob right now. I think she expressed an interest in peeling potatoes but he might have offered. The potato peeler is a bit blunt, but she sat on a high stool in front of the sink and had a go. The potatoes were very slippery, mind. She said so.

Then they chopped and rinsed broccoli.

Now they’re peeling the leaves and silk off the sweetcorn.

She’s have a fabulous time, she’s out of my hair, it’s not slowing him down much…

Last night, she and I made Bara Brith in 15 minutes (er, plus 90 minutes baking time, but you can’t have everything). It hasn’t been cut yet but it looks fabulous.

She sees no difference between this and the games she plays with her plastic animals, except that for this she has company and for the animals she does all the voices herself. If anything, she likes this far, far more.

I know for sure that Linnea learned something, from me, today. It’s not often I can point at something and say “This she has learned from her mother!” but today she learned that eggs are runny inside their shells sometimes (though as far as I know they still default to hard-boiled).

A week or two ago she started asking to peel her own hard-boiled eggs at lunchtime, which of course I proudly permitted, and today she was about to help me make scrambled eggs by cracking the eggs open exactly as she does for hard-boiled ones. I snatched one from her tender infant grasp and cracked it myself, to demonstrate, and then she agreed to be more careful. She was intrigued by the runniness (“Is very juicy!”) and enjoyed whisking them.

Unusually, she wasn’t interested in stirring them in the pan, but she did watch them cooking.

I went to bed about 11 last night, got to sleep about 12:30. Tadpole is lively. Then Linnea woke shortly after six. So we were all up earlier than we’d like. However, it was cooler than last week at breakfast time, which was a relief.

About 9:30 it became obvious that Linnea was exhausted, and we went to bed in my room. In the end we got about an hour’s sleep from 10-11. I feel fabulous and Linnea is transformed.

She enjoyed her weekend away. Didn’t miss me a bit, which means we must be doing something right, and was pleased to see me when she got back, but not as pleased as she was to see the trike. Her sentences are clearer than they were on Friday – she’s grown some more grammar. And on Friday we were having salad, and she said “I can’t eat the rice.”

“It’s not rice, it’s couscous.”

“I can’t eat the couscous eeether.”

I thought that was impressive, but I’m not sure why. I think it was the use of “either” but I have no idea what that development represents. Anyway, she has also started answering “How are you?” with “My’s fine,” which is cute and useful, because a huge number of adults randomly ask toddlers the social non-question “How are you?” and I’ve seen Linnea and other toddlers hopelessly confused by it. I’m sure I’ve asked it myself, inflicting needless bewilderment on toddlers talking to me on the phone or whatever.

On Friday we did gluing and sellotaping with boxes and lollipop sticks. She’s not keen on sellotape; it’s more difficult to use than glue, though it does produce more instant results. She has expressed some interest in making things for the baby, or for Dave, but never follows through :)

Today I think we mainly need to assemble all the library books she took out the other week and get the bus to the library. I can’t wait until I can walk again. By the end of the day, seperating my knees enough to climb the stairs hurts like bejeepers (what useful swearwords I know when I try!) and lying down doesn’t help much. “Mammy take a baby out a you tummy now!” as Nea says.

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