C can nearly walk, talk and sleep overnight. How did this happen? I've barely blogged about her at all in the last three months, beyond glancing referrals in the background of the ongoing war of potty training. She ought to have the common courtesy to stop developing when I'm distracted.
Mind you, I'm relatively secondary in C's order of things too. Mummy is ahead of me, she gets coos and smiles where I tend to get furious screams because I'm slower with the bottle deployment.
Top of the list is big sister F.
F tells it like it is. She plays the headbutt game properly, where you lean in and bump foreheads and say "bump!". Mummy and Daddy are all cotton-woolly about that one, they don't commit to the bump.
F waves slices of cucumber during dinner and says "Greeny greeny greeny greeny!" Mummy and Daddy are all, "hey, no, sit quietly and masticate your gruel correctly." They don't understand how it is in the real world. They don't get the problems that a baby faces on a day-to-day basis, not like big sister F.
She's learned, from F, that parents need to be bullied in order to function at peak efficiency. Take no nos for an answer. If ignored, redouble your howls. A sleeping parent deserves neither sympathy nor mercy. It's a dog-eat-dog-or-possibly-formula-until-you've-got-teeth world out there, and only the stroppiest survive.
I have tried to learn from F's example. If I too could receive looks of unconditional love from the recipient of a poked face or yanked forelock, I reckon life could be so much easier, Perhaps if I steal peoples' toys, I'll make more friends and get more jobs.
Or maybe C is just waiting to declare an all-out war of retribution until she's cracked independant walking.
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