A month was nearly missed. Missed not due to the ebbing of paternal blogging desire but because of hectic familial nonsense and jollyness. I'm sat on a train in that dull hinterland betwixt Peterborough and Lincoln to visit the UK's largest custard factory on behalf of the government having swept in from Denmark this morning and to take my mind off this provincial slop I thought I'd compose a few words on B.
B remains lovely, although the occasional shout of "bumhands" from her can take the edge of dinner, and she and her cousin bonded royally in Copenhagen even when faced a children's party so odd in its composite parts that even their parents were a little stunned. She slayed round danskland full of joy and even managed to bit the head clean off Greenlandic fish delicacy much to the shock of her parents. (And one must report that cricket has spread to these parts - a clear reminder of the benefits of immigration to the cultural and sporting life of any nation - as well a reminder that shouting 'Good lord, they're playing cricket' will result in much unpleasantness if your companions are of the most unscrupulous kidney.)
There is so much good chat now that it's hard to keep track of. And occasionally it retards her progress as food spills out of her mouth as she continues to try and best her own record of non stop talking from dawn until dusk. She is certainly keen on spring "Daddy, spring had sprung. It's springtime" and has a sense of history "Daddy, I think maybe we should make a time capsule " which was apropos of nothing at all.
So it's business as usual really. She might even have mastered sleep. But it's too early to say. But if she did it would be the biggest step forward since bread was sliced.
Her she is. X
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| Nancy with an O on her nose. |
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| Blossom |
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| Mild Excitement |
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