Jamie is now twenty-two months old. As he was coming up to this age, it occurred to me that this seemed to be the ill-defined point at which it seems appropriate to stop referring to age in months and start referring to it in years with qualifiers. Which means that Jamie is now nearly two.
Nearly two. My little boy – who runs everywhere and can climb the climbing frames at the park and walk up and down stairs if he has a bannister to hold, who’s been in his own room for the past few weeks and now eats meals at his own little table and chair because he’s outgrown the high chair – is nearly two. Two years ago he was a bump; a year ago he was a crawler and a cruiser, fascinated by life but with little concept of what any of it meant. These days, he loves being read to and music and spinning round and round and dancing and going to Tumbletots and watching the Teletubbies, especially the baby in the sun. And he’s nearly two.