Hands up in the air (he just don't care) Every now and then, Muffin holds his hands up in the air and then rests them on his head for a second, beaming. 'Head', i offer. He smiles and repeats the process. Yesterday morning i finally understood why.
His kindergarden decided to have their end of year party yesterday. In the middle of the week, at 10 am, under the pouring rain (they were asked to wear shorts, none of us complied). They gathered the wee ones in a same classroom with white tshirts with their hand prints stamped on them.
All of us parents, a composition of handycams and digicams and sighs, held our breaths and tried to feign normality, when in reality we were incredibly moved by our children singing the parts of the body song.
Correction. The
other children we singing. Some cried. And our Muffin sat with his back tightly leaned against the wall, staring hard at someone to his left, dead serious, and not moving an eyelash. Even as the rest of the kiddos did the hands in the air and touch your head thing, he just sat there looking grave.
Minutes later, while my mum and i were driving with Bruno back home, he suddenly beamed at me and touched his head twice, lightly, looking inmensely pleased with himself.
Be Baby
Bruno's steps are still aided by furniture, which he clings to for dear life. One of his favourite spots is the tv table, where the sound system is. I suppose he enjoys the spacious area of white wood where he can make his vrooom vrooom cars roar with pleasure. 
