I think her first word was f@*k…

Things have been changing around here…

WallyBubba is… evolving…

The constant, chaotic toddler din seems to have been replaced with some worrying silences and some lingering stares from her that could make grown men shit themselves… 
And then… actual words… It’s bizarre. I can actually have conversations with her, and that silent stare as I speak is my little person taking in and understanding every word I say… EVERY word. Oh yes. It’s happening. I swear every time I say f@*k and pour a myself a pint of Bombay Sapphire she tuts, smiles and rolls her eyes… 
Every morning I am met with a ‘Hi, Ma-Ma.’ And her then passing me her readily removed nappy and a handful of fresh baby nuggets. 
Once I’ve actually said the word ‘breakfast‘ out loud I had better get her morning meal on her highchair tray in 30 seconds flat else she starts high-fiving the television and eyeing up her miniature pink piano… trust me, no-one can take WallyBubba’s keyboard skills before 9am in the morning… I would pick being burnt alive over death by that shitting yamaha samba-riff any day.
Once the banana arrives, to shouts of ‘Narna, Narna, Narna’, it is engulfed, whole, sideways, with the skin still on in places. Following which demands of ‘Tssst, Tssst’ flood the dining room, which to those of you who don’t speak fluent WallyBubba, means ‘get my toast now mother, and ensure it’s nutella-ed up else I’ll have you covered in honey and fed to the wasps.’
Every request is followed with an ‘Eeeeeeze’ and her raising her hand to her mouth to sign please. I’m pretty proud of this one. I call it the big guns and pull it out in front of the mother-in-law, restaurant staff and most importantly any twattish tiger mums at playgroups. What’s that? Little sophia speaks fluent Japanese at 11 months old? Well, my toddler punches foxes and says thank you afterwards so f@*k you. 
She’s so direct with her orders: Up, Down, Drink, Finished, Release the Hounds… She fetches the Sky remote and bombards me with a chorus of ‘Lola, Lola, Lola’, tells herself off when she drops something with an ‘Oh no’, asks for Omelettes, screams for chips, wails for raisins, sits in the hall saying ‘shoos, shoooos, SHOOOOOS’ with a Clark’s flashy in each hand… I say dancing and she pulls out some impressively well-timed Macarena moves, ends on a fist-pump and gives herself a round of applause when the music stops… 
I can’t keep up with it. She might be almost 18 months old, but it’s as if I’m living with a four year old some days… And I’m painfully aware that if I don’t want her first full sentence to be ‘Thank f@*k it’s gin o’clock, don’t worry about the glass I’ll take the bottle…’ It’s time I reigned in the F-bombs and moved onto soft drinks. Like wine and beer. 


  1. joy June 7, 2013
    • Wally Mummy June 7, 2013
  2. joy June 7, 2013
  3. Wally Mummy June 7, 2013
  4. The Brick Castle June 7, 2013
    • Wally Mummy June 7, 2013
  5. SarahMummy June 7, 2013
    • Wally Mummy June 7, 2013
  6. Laughtermudandmayhem June 8, 2013
    • Wally Mummy June 8, 2013
  7. Ria Knox June 8, 2013
    • Wally Mummy June 8, 2013
  8. Misty B June 8, 2013
    • Wally Mummy June 9, 2013

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