A Not So Turkish Life

M: 27 months

The reason I can write this now is because you’re fast asleep, curled sideways, anti-fetal position, chin smudged with ice-cream, knees charcoal-residued from the once mangal pit you just spent half n hour in foraging for “bugs” then, as always, fed them the last of your “dondurrr” because you must share ice-cream with an animal every time.


At 27 months you remain totally unfazed of hurdles I’d expect you to contemplate. You always slide backwards no matter how high the slide, have already mastered pipe ladders and balancing beams. You meet life at its most in everything.

You have permanently grazed knees and a twinkle in those dark-rimmed tiger eyes reflecting the inquisitiveness that caused them.

You eat spaghetti piece by piece, stoically, unsmiling. Then ask for a refill. Twice.
You eat carrots like a rabbit, start your breakfast with cereal bowls x 3. Your leanness a result only of energy exerted minute by minute hour upon hour of wonderful day I’m lucky to be spending with you.

At 27 months your vocab is leaping ahead, a bilingual melody that sings now as much as it sighs.

And at 27 months old, M, you possess an assertiveness that renders you wise beyond your years – guard this quality well.



My darling baby boy,

at 2 years and a wee bit you have a small group of friends whom you join in water-hose fights and seatee bike rides always making sure T’s known about and is around. You’re a protective big brother, abi boy.

You love bubble baths with T
and “Supermarket Zoo”,
you build huge towering Lego forts to knock right down the next second,
pretend to be a lion or a mouse.
With a considered splattered paint-speckled face you stomp the lakeside four-legged as an elephant with a trunk.

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You wake in the morning eager with a plan already made…”l’ake” “frrrrog” or “parka”…Eat cereal then to the door, pass me a scarf, put trainers on with your pjs calling “baby” as you go. Excited for the day, every dawn a new adventure waiting.

You’re as exhilarating as exhausting and enlighten my mind and world. You kiss spontaneously and tickle just because, have arms always wide open to enfold around my heart and soul, teeth always ready to test out the pinch. The former I adore. The latter? watch it kiddo.

At 27months old you love to brush your teeth, to drink tea from china tea-cups, to build cushion forts to hide your brother inside. You feed him before yourself and feed me his strawberry-apple dipped toes. You fill every single day with a light all your own, soothe the evenings with your calm annotated slumber dreams.

At 27 months old, darling M, you are difinitively, vibrantly, spectacularly you.
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This entry was published on 06/27/2013 at 19:08. It’s filed under Baby 'n' Me, From Me to You and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

One thought on “M: 27 months

  1. Pingback: M: 2.5 | A Not So Turkish Life

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