There is no denying that T has a real thing for the girls. I don't know whether it's because the majority of my friends have small pink children, but he does seem to attach himself to female persons with ferocity.
T quite likes men. He's always pointing them out, his favourites being 'man in van' and 'yellow man', for K our next door but two neighbour who works as a refuse collector and is often out and about in his high vis jacket. He adores my husband of course, and Grandpa. Other little boys though? Meh!
T has two cousins, C and A. A is 8 and the absolute apple of T's eye. He talks about her constantly, fetching her picture from the bookcase and asking to 'kiss A'. C, well when asked who we're going to see when we go to Essex to visit the outlaws T goes through the names in a list, counting them on his fingers as he goes ... Papa (Grandpa), Mama (Grandma), A. Then he stops. I prompt, who else? We look at the picture of two smiling siblings in school uniform next to each other. Who's that with A? Choo choo! C? Yes, choo choo. T plays with a big box of C's old trains at Grandma's house and, it appears, has been relegated to nothing more than a provider of Thomas-themed entertainment. He doesn't even have a name.
T's two best nursery friends, G and A, can do no wrong. I picked T up on Wednesday evening and, in the car on the way home, asked him what he'd done that day. 'Gave A a kiss' came the response. It must have been some kiss to be the highlight of eight hours of fun and play.
On Thursday evening he was playing in the garden when I arrived, and was so excited to see me he almost strangled himself trying to climb out of the window of the Cozy Coupe toy car for a cuddle two seconds sooner than could have been achieved had he opened the small plastic door and clambered out of the opposite side. The Mummy joy lasted only a few seconds though before he spotted G still playing away and demanded to 'get down'. He ran over, arms outstretched, they hugged and kissed and trotted off, hand in hand, babbling about something or other.
I know like many features of this toddler age (including insisting on cuddling his milk cup to sleep every night) this is a passion that will probably pass. Despite my previous rantings on people who stereotype the sexes, there are very few little boys who go to school still happy to be dressed in a tutu like their best friends. In the mean time though, I stand at the nursery door, peeping through the glass window, and watch him share books and toys with the people who, for now, are the centre of his nursery universe.
I do hope he loves his sister just as much.