My 'vocalisation' as papa calls it, has started to take-off the ground recently. I have started to say two syllable words like 'wa-ter' and to string two words together. Papa is trying hard to get me to say words like 'be-er' and 'par-ty', with a smile of course.

Papa says I have entered a stage of my life that he is looking forward to as much as having his wisdom teeth extracted. If my first year was the age of rashes and jabs, then this year will be marked as the age of bruises and tantrums. The stage papa calls the twilight twos. I threw my first public tantrum the other day when we were at a shopping mall. I didn't get what I wanted, so what did you expect any reasonable normal child to do? I just don't get adults. Give me what I want or don't get in my way, ok? Take that. Papa thinks it was the excessive monosodium glutamate in my chicken rice, plus a little fatigue that gave me the crazies.

I have also started to get plenty of bruises on my face and forehead. The result of an over- exuberant set of legs and a less than enthusiastic giro-system in my head. Papa calls me an almost-guided missile. I have been happily tripping and falling, pushing my god-given skull to it's protective limits. To the point papa wants to permanently sticky a foam covering to my forehead. Bruises are the order of the day. I get at least one a week. Kay sera sera.

Mummy's second anniversary is coming up soon. It will be a bumpy road ahead. Missing you is hard to do mum. Harder than growing up. Wish you were here.