"More Barney, Mummy!"

It's true. In the space of a fortnight, Eliott is putting two and three word sentences together. He's using verbs ("what have you been doing at playgroup today, El?", "hiding, Mummy"). He's built up a vocab of around 200 words, probably more, and it's suddenly like living with a little Mynah bird. I never realised how often I say "right then", "wow wee" or "shit" (don't tell Matt) and have never been more conscious of the way I say "bye".

He can count to ten! He's been singing along to songs! His pronunciation is much improved and he's so proud and so happy. Unsurprisingly, so am I - not to mention relieved.

I still don't buy the "he never said a word until he was two and then he could speak!" myth. It hasn't happened overnight, it just feels a bit that way, but I can see how the years will condense the last two or three months into an hour or so of recollection. No doubt I'll be pedelling the same exaggerated shit (see) as everyone else in years to come.

On to other developments and Matt and I won the pitch we went for. On the way to our first "family" meeting with the client this morning, Matt took one look at my carefully printed map and hand-written contact details (in case of emergency - not every receptionist can be trusted to let you in) and after declaring that he knew exactly where we were supposed to be going he screwed up the pristine sheet of A4 and threw it in a litter bin. I felt a bit sick.

In the meeting, I brought out my neat, plastic folder filled with ordered notes pertaining to the project and a stack of stapled, dated notepaper. Matt brought a pen. He also had his toolbox in tow, allegedly full of "artist materials" (tins of paint). Our project manager asked him if he'd come to fix the photocopier.

I will develop a twitch before this job is done.

Thank God we're going to Legoland tomorrow.