"He's a bit full-on today," reported B's weary father, looking around a room that looked as though a small explosive device had gone off in it.
"GOOD MORNING!" said B, with a beaming smile.
R and I were, of course, enchanted.
And yes, he was a bit full-on: L had no sooner restored order to the room than he got busy rearranging it back to a satisfactory state - a process that involved the complete emptying of a large toy basket, and the throwing of several items underneath sofas. And he was perhaps a little more contrary than usual, and reacted with unusually strong disfavour to adults entering his personal space without permission, to do outrageous things like helping him put on a pair of trousers and a jumper. So maybe there was just a touch of the Terrible Twos going on. But he was also great fun to play with and chat to, and caused quite a few strangers to smile broadly while we were out and about with him this afternoon.
One of his jokes today was to call me Pat - which is the name of my co-grandmother - and smirk when I replied, "I'm not Pat! What's my name?" Eventually he'd produce "Djiwl", receive a small round of applause, and then promptly go back to calling me Pat. (And rinse and repeat.) It's interesting that his grandfathers are now Dad and Dup, while his grandmothers both apparently get called by name, but I don't mind in the slightest - my own grandmother told me once how much she regretted the fact that she almost never heard anyone say her given name any longer, and therefore when the offspring were young I actively encouraged them to use their grandparents' names.
This is the famous CAKE! from the Swedish café in the further park, which as you can see is actually more a bread bun than a cake, though it does have a sweet, cardamom-flavoured glaze. Having demolished a whole one of these, the Boy Wonder walked most of the way back home on his own little legs (which took rather longer than R and I had to spare, to be honest, so it was a relief when the little legs finally gave out and he allowed R to carry him the last few hundred yards), and chattered away to us and himself for most of the route about the different sights we passed.
We did all have to endure a rather tortured few minutes about half way home, when he refused to walk forwards and wouldn't let himself be carried either, but R eventually realised that this was because he's now learned that Boys have to walk on the pavements, and not go in the road where the cars are, and a delivery driver had pulled onto the pavement in front of R and B, and parked. So of course, he couldn't walk past the car, and just had to stand and wait until the driver finished making his delivery and drove back onto the road and away. One forgets just how literally a small child will sometimes take instructions. Especially on a day when his favourite word seems to have been "No."