The Big Chop

After three years of carefully cultivating my locks Dad says it is time for a new look. When we walked in I clung onto Dad for dear life as it looked a bit like that clinic place where they stick sharp things into you that are really sore. Eventually I calmed down and they placed a board across a chair for me to sit on. A nice lady then washed my hair and then I moved to another chair where I could look into a mirror where I watched my tresses fall to the floor in a messy heap. As you can see the final result is a whole new me.

Three today

No big party today. Just granny Cheryl and Dad at the beach where we eat some sandy cake. At 12 kilos you are growing a little heavy to carry for long distances but still like to ride on my shoulders. Walking is coming on if not a little unsteady and you trip easily. It’s tantrum season and five minute screaming sessions are not uncommon. You love going to playshool and of course the teacher and kids fuss over you. I am however fretting more and more about your reluctance to talk. Although your repertoire is growing you are unable to put two words together yet. No one else feels this is a problem and we must be patient. Good news is the seizures have stopped and you are no longer on medication. We will wait to see the results of a further EEG to see if all is well. And so we soldier ever on.