I'm suffering with writer's block. You'll be the first to know when I get over it. For now, though, nada. Schtum. No hablas anything at all.
Instead, I shall share with you a conversation I had on MSN recently. Discussing speech development (see, and you think all we do on MSN is play scrabble and compete for most useless husband. You should be ashamed of yourselves, indeed!).
Me says (22.24): Thing One had huge vocab very early, and by two was talking in complete sentences. Thing Two grunted and pointed until she was 3
Posh says (22:26): now they are the other way round
Ho-ho-ho. Hurrumph. However, Posh does have a point. Thing One morphed into Kevin and/or Perry with the first whiff of hormones. However, there are times I get a tiny glimpse of the sweet child she once was.
This week she left Primary School. No one-liners about that, because she is hurting so much now, leaving her friends. These last few days, she has climbed into my lap and rocked herself back and forth, and I get to hold her and close my eyes and pretend that I can kiss her owies.
It gets so hard as they get older, and you can't make it better.
(Oh, oh, oh! Rather than leave on a sad note, the ridiculous SATs system finally coughed up some results, so I shall share my proud moment with you all; top scores throughout! Cleverbear that she is!).