Big Girl Petra

Petra's looking and sounding disconcertingly grown-up these days.  She says quite complex things now, mixing and matching her words to make an ever-increasing number of grammatically correct sentences.  And she's becoming more intelligible all the time – even strangers can pick up some of what she says.  She still has her idiosyncrasies though.  Her butt is a bumby for reasons best known to herself and water is wawy.  She's also fond of glottal stops, shoving them in the middle of words like cat ( ca'at) and using them in the place of the t in words like Petra (Pe'a).

She's grasped the concept of I – I will do it, I will get it, I don't want it – and moved on to me and mine.  My daddy, my nanny, my shoes, my dress.  She's been pretty good about sharing stuff to this point but that might change…

And she's in that wonderfully loving toddler stage.  She loves her people, giving everyone, even the reluctant teenagers of her acquaintance, big open-mouthed, toothy kisses and agitating to visit her rellies as often as possible.  We were at the bank the other day, re-fixing our mortgage which involved signing a huge stack of paper.  I had to do the paperwork with a kissy, cuddly Petra standing on my knee with her back against my shoulder, one arm around my neck, and her head resting against mine.  She was a lovely distraction from the pain of signing our lives away for our house.

   

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