Memory man

In Yoppy's buggy

Grandma-Stee's diggers

Okay, so I know it will only get harder to think of the right thing to say but I definitely boobed tonight. Upset, as ever, that I wouldn't give him any milk, my milk, that is, not the cow's milk in his red cup, I think I made the mistake of saying something like: 'There's none left. Maybe I can get some more." Why, I don't know. Five minutes later, as I lay in his bed with him (oh yes!), a little voice said: "Mummy, get more milk tomorrow. From the shop." And I know he wasn't talking about popping out to pick up a pint. 

It wouldn't matter but his memory is razor sharp these days. He only has to see or hear the most tenuous of triggers and something he did months ago comes pouring out of his mouth. Seeing Simon Hughes' yellow taxi drive down our street this morning had him chatting about the yellow taxis in New York, while just about any mention of a horse reminds him of "Harold the horse" in Central Park. As does spotting a carrot. (He fed Harold a carrot; it was the highlight of his trip.) Then there was the other night in the bath: asking him to turn round got him chatting about Katy and singing Hokey Cokey, which has been her song ever since he got him dancing to it at New Year's. Or there's any mention of Yoppy-chan, which has him prattling on about "Louis in Yoppy's buggy" because they swopped buggies once, aeons ago. 

For months, every digger we saw prompted a, "Digger, Dandad" because his first official sighting of one was with his Grandad. (I'd been walking quickly past them for months, hoping to delay the inevitable obsession.) Now, I fear "Dandad" may have been supplanted as an association: the pebbly beach outside Grandma P's house is a veritable digger park at the moment because they are rebuilding the beach, which had been in danger of disappearing into the sea. Ever since we popped down there last week for a peek (I felt obliged) every time Louis gets to the bulldozer page in his digger book (I didn't buy it) he goes on and on about "Grandma driving the red digger; Stee driving the yellow one." 

With that in mind, I fear I should be very afraid about what he might yell out if we do pop to the shops tomorrow......