I have no scope of experience when it comes to raising girls of course but my gosh do I love being a mummy to a boy. The constant need for physical interaction whether that may be hands and knees down being the best god damn pony you've ever seen or to plant a kiss on a minor injury, a boost up to reach the highest branch or the simple act of holding hands when those little legs are tired.

I have set up a platform that allows my son to be as strong-willed, determined and decisive as he wishes to be. Raising a spirited child allows for some amazing experiences, frank conversations and pure understanding of the world I could never have predicted. He is so patient with other children, extremely compassionate and has grown in confidence in his ability to socialise.

Theo's speech has come on leaps and bounds in the last 6 months. He can structure a sentence fully and his ability to interpret tenses is second to none. It always comes in handy when I really need him to do something: 

"If you eat your dinner now, we can go to the park in the morning."

He is starting to understand the way the light is different at dawn, in the afternoon, around dusk and dark, how that relates to the routine throughout the day.. let's cut to the chase, what meal is coming and when. Not only does the rumble of a gut dictate his hunger, but the height of the sun! 
Theo's palette has definitely changed from the adventurous bubba I once knew to a texture-hating, greenery-finding, sweetcorn detesting dictator. I wouldn't say we were fully code 'beige' but apart from the odd raw carrot or slither of cucumber he can scope out veg like a drug dog whiffs out meth.

He is now fully potty trained. Dry at night and everything. I know right? We do have the odd 'shit in pants' situation but who hasn't been there? When you've gotta go, you've gotta go. 

Theo loves all things 'boy'. We really and truly never gender stereotype but that little old instinctual brain wants what it wants. He loves cars, dinosaurs, superheroes, exploring the outdoors, getting muddy, jumping in puddles, wrestling, rugby tackling and more. Don't get me wrong, the boy loves to dress up too. Give him a princess dress, plastic heels and a tiara and he'll be beaming ear to ear. But with a flip of a coin he's wearing his favourite spaceman get up, screaming: "Toooo infinity... and BEYOND".

Snoozefest disclaimer: I'm not for one moment suggesting that girls don't like to do these things, there are no hidden agendas. I'm just talking about MY kid.

He now rarely likes to sit and read, paint or draw, I have to coerce him into sticker books and he sure as hell hates baking. But I don't mind. He once loved nuzzling his nose into the picture-filled prints; I'm sure that will return one day.

Sleep is our nemesis. We get enough but I want more. I want to turn over without shuffling, to reach out my arms and feel a tall, dark and (comparatively) humongous man instead of bony elbows and spiky toes. I want minimal midnight misconduct and more spooning. If I could get a bigger bed into our bedroom then that would be the answer to all our prayers but it looks like forcing said 'spirited' child back into his own god damn room is our only option.

I can't complain. Or can I?

In all seriousness, there is no greater feeling than the feeling of being needed. But it does come with it's cons. Theo can rarely be left for a moment alone, in the lounge with his toys while I pop to the loo, in his own room once lights are low, while I'm ironing clothes for our day or attempting to wash the 5 day old grease out of my worn out locks.

He is my constant companion.

I know that one day I will miss the noise of little ones and the warmth of his face against mine but I'd hate for my log of parenthood to be fake and dishonest. It is hard work. 

It is, however, work I more than happy to tend to. I love our family days out, snuggle days watching movies and exploring the world together.

Now seriously, if I could just get a little more sleep. 


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