Familar

We recently filled another Julia Donaldson shaped hole in our bookcase. We've long borrowed The Smartest Giant in Town from the library but didn't have our own copy until last week. T is, unsurprisingly, loving it. We're reading it nightly along with Zog and, on nights when C isn't getting too tired and cranky to wait any longer for milk, another story of his choosing.

Tonight, as George the giant redressed himself in his shabby but comfortable gown and sandals, three quarters of the way through, T piped up.

Mummy, what's milly-ear

Not milly-ear, it's familiar

What's familiar

Familiar is when something is old and nice and you like it very much, George's gown and sandals are familiar

Mummy, Grandma is old and nice. Is she familiar?

I suppose, if pushed, I could get away with pretending he'd said family.

Anatomy

T is bending his arm, holding it in a funny manner.

'What's the matter darling, have you hurt yourself?'

'No Mummy, this is my ELBOW'

'It is darling, well done!'

He holds his hand up, folding over his fingers.

'Mummy, these are our KNUCKLES'

'Well done darling, that's a difficult word!'

He fiddles with his socks and thinks hard.

'Mummy, this is my UNCLE. I have three uncles. This is my left uncle, this is my right uncle and then there's Uncle Nick. And Uncle Esteban. Three uncles!'

We really need to work on his counting.