Moving on...

I've been thinking about progression a lot recently. This may of course have something to do with the fact that spring is in the air, the crocuses and snowdrops are making merry in the gardens, and the birds are even tweetier than normal in the mornings, but I think it's more than that. With Boy #2 now 3 years old, the Baby Years are well and truly behind me.

My gorgeous younger son pointed out to me this morning that he's 'not a baby anymore'. He's 'a big boy now...' Tempting as it was to point out that that was debateable given the fact I was helping him into his nappy at the time, I kept schtum and agreed with him. Because he is indeed growing up.

Just before Christmas, he moved into a proper bed, and last month we sold the cot. I had been planning on giving it to charity; it's perfectly serviceable despite the fact that it's been through 4 children that I know of - not all mine, obviously - and would no doubt be fine for at least a couple more. But, and did you know this; charities in the UK will no longer accept cots unless you provide a brand-spanking-new-not-yet-out-of-the-wrapping mattress alongside it. Well, I'm very happy to donate a cot. I was even willing to deliver it. But add another £40 on top of that? Would you?

Then, we passed on the pantechnicon buggy that we used for both the boys, to some friends. I've railed about it over the years as being too big, too cumbersome, too difficult to break down, but I was still sad to see it go. I even asked Husband if he would like to say goodbye to it after I liberated it from it's temporary house in the unused spare shower and wheeled it past him to the car.

Men. I don't think I need to tell you what his answer was? Which is just typical since he was the one who wanted the blasted thing in the first place, falling for it's slick tyres, handbrakes, bicycle bell and off-road appeal. What was I thinking to say yes to that purchase? In the 5 years we've had it, apart from the odd foray across the wilds of Hyde and Holland Parks, there was as much chance of our going off-road in Kensington and Chelsea as there was of my growing 4 inches and being recruited as a supermodel...

So, the buggy is gone. I hope the new family look after it properly...

(What am I saying? It's an inaminate object, for chrissake!)

Cot, then buggy, and finally yesterday I went through Boy #2's clothes, consigning anything marked '2 years' or 'toddler' to the 'offload onto sister-in-law' pile. Then I went to the cupboard and pulled out all Boy #1's long outgrown aged 3 clothes and put them in the cupboard instead. Pretty straightforward, wouldn't you agree? Well, I was fine with it until I realised that that was it. The last of the baby / toddler clothes gone. No need to hold onto them any longer. Which is a bit sad.

Though I have to wonder if I might have left swapping the clothes over just a little too long. I thought that his previous wardrobe was still fine on him, but the fact that Boy #2's new 'aged 3' clothes just about fit him perfectly suggests that the 'aged 2' 3/4 length sleeves he's been wearing for the last couple of months weren't actually meant to be that short...