The things I love about Oti...

His cherubic face. It's a classically beautiful face that I am pretty sure anyone would love, but being his mother, I love it especially. The full pink lips, stunning baby blues, English rose complexion, the creamy, pale, shiny, flat hair. Easy to love.

The manipulative faces he pulls - when he's been naughty, he knows just how to con us into letting him get away with it. The lips are made for pouting, and he screws them up to one side and lowers his head just so... He knows what he's doing.

His loving nature. He strokes Peggy's face so tenderly,"I love you Peggy", "Mum, I love Peggy, she's my sister." "Mum, can Peggy have a biscuit too? I think she's hungry. I love her." "Mum, I love you, you a good Mummy."

His innocence. He kissed his little friend Hughie on the lips the other day as we were saying goodbye. There was nothing shy or hesitant about it, he did with confidence, with the same enthusiasm he has for everything he loves about his life. And Hughie was happy to take it. This was after they had done wees together under the big tree at our local park.

His honesty. My pubic hair apparently makes me look like "Santa Claus", and his Grammy's hair... Well, he's admitted he's not a fan. At least when he says that he does like something we can accept it as truth.

His sayings... He loves to reply with "Sure!" or "Of course" if we ask him to do something. Instead of "I don't know", it's "I can't know". And he loves to reflect on his morning ust before naptime. "We've had a busy morning. We've had fun!"

The fact that he's not as scared of new things as I once he feared he might turn out to be... He started proper swimming lessons on Sunday, no parents in the pool when you're a Tadpole. And he didn't hesitate to get right in when he was asked to. I was dumbfounded. I had been prepared for tears and clinging and trauma for us both.

The things I love about Booroo...

Those chocolate-y eyes that are so different from my own. They are all-knowing, and very pretty, framed with long, dark, curled lashes. Her best feature.

The golden hair, getting longer and wavier, looking lovely clipped at the side of her face. I'm slightly obsessed with putting clips in her hair, always keen to add to her/my collection.

The grabby little hands, she has the short nail beds that Phil has. Toes are like that too. Her feet are so straight, narrow, delicate and a light golden brown.

The way she holds on to her lovey or her soft quilt as she's falling asleep... Such a tight clutch, such a furrowed brow. Slowly her body relaxes and surrenders.

The tiny buds of teeth that have only just arrived! They are bumpy and ridged in their newness, and she is enjoying biting with them.

The put-on face of utter devastation that she shows me whenever something doesn't go her way. Dramatic, nose all scrunched, lips tight and wide, eyes squinty and full of rage. But there's a laugh lurking underneath it all.

The slap-slap-slap of her feet as she crawls with mighty speed. I hear this less and less now that she is walking. But when she's in hurry she reverts to the mode of transport she's long mastered.

Her emerging words... In the middle of the night now she'll actually ask for "boobooboo... boo" and I find it very hard to refuse her. She's starting to enunciate lots of new things, bird, book, brother...

The earnestness of her gaze as she "reads". Interactive books are her preference - glittery, touch-and-feel-, lift-the-flap.

Her smell. Like Otis, she smells so delicious. It's a clean, fresh smell mixed with something undefinable - a Peggyness that is sweet and salty and familiar.