Kai is growing really quickly. Every day he comes up with something new. Like yesterday morning, he tried taking off his pyjamas on his own – and I know I can’t be bothered to word the event in a more exciting fashion, because if you’re not a parent, you won’t get why I’m so amazed and proud anyway. Just like the time he said “chicken”.
If I were to dig through this blog’s archives, I’d probably find some post where I wrote “bring on the terrible twos”, but because we have to run after Kai almost every waking minute of the day, I simply don’t have time to dig through this blog’s archives.
But bring it on he has. Naomi and I are currently experiencing the brunt of Kai’s spectacular meltdowns. They happen without warning, out of the blue, as sudden and unexpected as an Orchard Road flash flood.
They mope for a coupla days and still watch the 3rd and 4th placing match even though they’ve spent the morning lamenting about how meaningless these matches are and how they should scrap them and go straight for the grand final.
Or they pass their passion on to the next generation of football tragics: