13/52

Ellery: energy for days

Aubrey: he sells sea shells

Three-and-a-half: syllables, you intrinsically understand syllables. Because words and rhythm are you.

One: walks with hands held. And can hear the fridge opening two rooms away.

12/52

Ellery: shell creature spying

Aubrey: laps of the beach

In five years, I won't remember the week you barked like a seal and vomited copious solidified milk lumps down my shirt in the middle of the night. I'll have forgotten how bloody EPIC your tantrums were, how you kept hitting me and screaming at me to go away, to come back. And how I lost my shizzle at you, again. I'll vaguely recall how clingy the smallest was. How tired and foggy I was.

But I will remember how we seized the day anyway. Despite the effort, the tears, the sandflies and the wet sand EVERYWHERE. To choose beauty. To make these our memories that stick.

11/52

Ellery: singing me the cheeky monkey song

Aubrey: slumbering delight (with paws)

Three and a half: the meltdowns, the defiance, the wanton moods, the middle of the night wakefulness, the questions about everything, the undoing the thing you just did so he can redo it, the excitement about life, the bookish-ness. 

One: the raspberries (ohmygoodness he blows a mean fart on my shoulder!), the coy smile, the singsong call of 'Dad-dah', the climbing everything, the seat-bopping, the offering up the floor crud that just went in his mouth, the hand clenching to indicate want, the screaming frustration when he doesn't get his way, the absolute disinterest in books. 

10/52

Ellery: marches to the beat of his own drum
Aubrey: sunlight in his hair

The week that teething - and a crazy full moon southerly buster - stole our sleep.

9/52

Ellery: stacking, unstacking

Aubrey: cheeks and rolls

Matching one-year-old and three-and-a-half year old vaccinations. The smallest's first fringe trim. And a new (borrowed) car!