How odd it seems to be writing to you both. I hope, Scout, that you can appreciate that Noah's name comes first in this address purely because of habit. This is a habit borne out of Noah being born first and therefore it seems only natural for us to say his name first. Perhaps it is unfair. It has no bearing on who is our favourite child. Our favourite varies on a day to day basis. Today, it happens to be Noah, by the way - he made your mummy and I laugh when we were cheering on Eddie Hall in World's Strongest Man.
There is a number of reasons that we haven't been writing on here, many of them spurious. One of the true ones is that having a second baby is diff-ic-ult! Or rather, much more difficult that just one. The difficulty is the amount of time raising you takes. We happen to want to do a good job and, sadly, this takes a huge amount of time, The teeny weeny bits of spare time we had before was spent on keeping this blog shiny and up to date. If we wanted to keep up that level of detail, the sacrifice, ironically, would have to be to compromise how well we bring you up, which would reflect badly on the blog either way. For example, in order to begin this entry, Noah is in bed - has been since 8pm - and you cannot yet hold a bottle yourself so I fashioned a bottle holder out of the duvet your were wrapped in so you could be fed and I could have a free hand to type. Your mum was throwing some lovely supper together for us - meat and cheese sandwiches with pickled onions, pork pie and chutney, thanks for asking.
It's been a spectacular year for us all. Your grandma and grandad moved to Earl Shilton. They subsequently acquired the pub that is about five doors down. (Noah, you call it, "The pehb," which makes you sound terribly well to do.) Scout was born this year which has been just incredible. Our little family is complete and when daddy get the balls (yes, pun intended) he will get the snip (ask your mummy what this means.) We have really appreciated this time how quickly you move through the gears, so to speak, when it comes to growing up through the 'baby bit' of your life so instead of wishing you through all of the arbitrary milestones as we did with Noah, we have been trying to resist them as best we can without damaging you.
We have also started a shop on Etsy selling typed quotes on the typewriter, We then introduced framed quotes. It took off really rather well considering the small size of the shop. All the money we are making for this - every penny of it - goes to you two. You're welcome. Although if, by the time you are reading this, we deny we ever made any money, we are probably lying. Either mummy spent it all with her drinking habit or daddy gambled it away at the casino. If that is the reality of the future then I'm sorry. Start your own shop if you're just going to cry about it. Jeez!
We adore you both more and more with every day that goes by as we watch you become the people you are going to be forever. This is especially true, at the minute, with Noah because your language is developing so rapidly. You are using similes: "Our ginger hair is bright like the sun, isn't it, daddy?" and you all of a sudden began to use the adverb, "Suddenly," which is somehow hilarious.. I took to writing down all of the things you were coming out with. I will publish them here soon as many are hilarious.
We've noticed that Scout is prettier than you were at her age, Noah. Whilst this seems impossible, it is sadly true. She may well grow up to be painfully ugly but right now she is Disney perfect. You are too, don't get me wrong. Your mummy remarked about 30 minutes ago that Scout, 'has us wrapped round her little finger more than Noah did,' which is true as well. Not always in a lovely endearing way, I have to say,
Our new year's resolution (among many) is to take more care of your blog as it is something we are very proud of. We also fear a backlash when you are both older because we have far fewer photographs of Scout than Noah and the entries to this blog dried up after Scout was born. To reiterate, this is due to the luxury of time that we have precious little of - not to protest too much.
Happy new year, our babies.
Lots of love,
Mum and Dad
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