Week 61


Dear Genevieve,

You learned to walk this month. We have seen you wanting to get that skill under your belt for a little while but you finally decided now is the time. Your dad went to pick you up at Kindy one Monday afternoon and when you noticed him standing in the doorway, you just picked yourself up and toddled right on over to say hi. Just like it was any other day. He was pretty surprised. After that, it took you a couple more days before you stopped favouring crawling as either the fastest or most convenient mode of travel. Or perhaps that was the safest. Getting your centre of gravity sorted takes effort (and slopes and uneven terrain still pose a challenge to you).


Now however, you are all sorted. Still very much a toddler and not quite a walker but you are off. Quietly. Some kids seem to herald their arrival by either a lot of chatter or by doing a one man band version of a herd of elephants. You can pick up some speed when you put your mind to it but you manage it silently. Your dad took you op-shopping the other day and said several times he had only taken eyes off you long enough to look in the opposite direction but then when he looked back – you were gone. His heads up as to your location was usually a surprised exclamation by another adult. Because whilst you disappear with nothing but a whisper, you arrive in the same manner which can be somewhat startling if you don’t expect it. Well that and the fact that you stare. That can be slightly off-putting too. We find it amusing because you are just curious but some big people don’t get that.


Everyone seems to think you’re cute though. And well-behaved or perhaps well adjusted for your age. Your father and I go between secretly being quite proud of you and actively practicing judicious baby wrangling. Like at the wedding. We took you to a wedding at the beginning of the year. It involved some car travel in the day but the event was in the late afternoon and the reception in the evening so we hoped for some sleep in there somewhere. Apparently you never got the memo. You went down for a morning nap just fine. You woke sometime after 11am which was not a problem. The issue was that you didn’t go back to sleep until 11:50pm that night! That was a long day.

Your father and I managed it the only way we knew how. Lots of distractions. We gave you sunglasses, smart phones, food, relatives, bottles, cuddles and when all else failed, a change of scenery. Towards the end of the evening you were just so frustrated that your little body couldn’t relax that you needed to go outside and vent. You didn’t want to be held but would hold your arms out in front of you with all your muscles tensed and yell. Then you would crawl or support yourself on available furniture while you moved somewhere else and repeated the process. Most people didn’t see your moments of crazy though or the fact that Karl and I were tag-teaming from dinner onwards and would say wow-she is doing really well!


But despite the fact that you did have a couple of less than endearing moments that day, you never got to the complete meltdown point which was awesome. Your father and I love that we can take you out and include you in these sorts of events. We love that you are so happy in public and that you enjoy all the adult attention. You are so expressive and its really a delight to watch. I’m not sure whether you just mimic the exaggeration that you see in your father and in me on a day to day basis but some of your mannerisms are hilarious.


For instance, you have discovered the fan recently. Or more precisely, you have discovered that you can make the fan go. You can transition from calm to breezy with the press of a switch, eyebrows as high as they can go, eyes wide as saucers, jaw dropping for the biggest “o” you can manage and then the smile that says this is so cool. Your animation is gorgeous. You should be like this all the time. Especially teeth cleaning time, because that’s usually when you clamp your mouth shut and refuse to allow us access.

On the other hand, you may refuse to actively participate as you secretly enjoy watching your parents make idiots of themselves. Especially as we sing you a song every time we brush your teeth. Its not much of a song I’ll admit as it pretty much consists of “you brush your teeth” and a lot of “ch-ch, ch-ch…ch ch-ch-ch ch” but the inanity occasionally stuns you into submission. The rest of the time you are just down right uncooperative. But for all that, we still love you to pieces. My darling little girl, you light up our lives.


Alles Liebe,



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