32 weeks...

...and still smiling (well, for the cameras at least).

Picky eater

Just in case there comes a time when Maddy's turning her nose up at anything but chicken McNuggets, here's a list of things she's eaten whilst in France:

Mussels (reluctantly)
Gherkins
Sardines
Foie Gras Pate (a girl of refined tastes)
Brie, Comte, Roquefort
Anchovies
Crab (rejected)
Olives
Beef Carpaccio
Steak Tartare

Oh, and this other French delicacy called Petit Filous...

Career planning

Maddy's vocabulary development is progressing at pace. She's currently mastering with some aplomb language (and in fact, behaviour) that will be required if she were ever in a position to be a dictator.

Her are some examples:

'Don't do that!' Said repeatedly and with increasing force. Importantly, there's no consistent pattern in which we might be able to understand the catalyst to such provocation.

'Come up, come up!' Ever slightly irritated at the world not existing at precisely the correct height for her to see and hear everything, she consistently protests loudly to be elevated to the appropriate level (accompanied by indignant jumping).

'I need, I need.' Pretty much prefixes everything.

'Let my do it.' Perceptively, she already considers her parents to be dim-witted dribbling retards, so follows us around demanding that her way is the best way. 

Other than that, she's a complete angel.

Are you happy?

The aforementioned title to this post is the question that Maddy asks at the tipping point to us boiling over with anger or at the crucial telling off moment. Let me expand:

Me: 'I'm really cross with you, you are without doubt the most dreadful little 2-year old on the face of this earth. You should never ever EVER do...'

Maddy: 'Mummy, are you happy?'

Our daughter learning early that timing is EVERYTHING. So proud.