Three Into Four: The Adorable And Embarrassing Things Toddlers Say

Of the more recent developments in my life as the parent of a toddler, one of the most exciting is all of the rather wonderful things Diana is saying every day.

Make that every minute.

D is picking up new words with increasing rapidity - 'rhino' 'butterfly,' 'monster,' 'pepper' and 'meatball' are recent additions (reflections of our current library book selection and recent dinner menu). But Diana has even started to play around with her new vocabulary and is even making up words of her own, intentionally or not.

She's currently obsessed with Mummy and Daddy's pillows, but I didn't realise her excited shrieks of 'poo-way!' translated to 'pillow' until she dragged mine out from underneath my head and reclaimed it as her own. I'm hoping the pillow I recently purchased for her is going to make sleep seem like a more enticing experience, instead of one she needs to wage battle against every evening.

She's also starting to use her favourite words like 'Daddy' and 'milk' to make new words, and, like Rimbaud and Milton before her, seems to have a penchant for neologisms. The future literary genius recently decided that 'dinosaur,' which she said for a couple of weeks and then got tired of, sounds much better when pronounced 'Daddy-saur,' while the yoghurt drink Actimel, a current favourite of D's, has been replaced by the more baby-friendly 'Acti-milk.'

D's also really into gossiping lately and telling people what she - and other family members - have been up to, although her stories are often hard to follow since they're conflated with scenes from The Three Little Pigs and other fairy tales ('Daddy and Bolshy walk in park. Big bad wolf blow house down! Sit in my chair!').

But it's still cute: when she sees someone drinking a beer, she'll excitedly shriek 'Daddy!' and she also keeps on telling anyone who will listen about 'Mummy cake, mummy cake' (D is awake too many hours for me to hide my sugar addiction from her any longer so she is often witnessing me either baking, buying or consuming something that resembles a cake or biscuit).

D's also been bragging about her new haircut, telling people how she wet Daddy's bed, and has even informed the librarian that 'Mummy in shower with Bolshy.' (NB: I was bathing him, not bathing with him). So much for not airing the dirty laundry in public...

D has also mastered the skill of utterly humiliating me with a word and a finger point. I mentioned a couple of months ago that she pointed to my face - well, my spots - and started shouting 'Nip nip!' (her word for nipple). That's practically a compliment compared to what's going on these days.

She now stares at my skin, looking extremely worried, makes a sad face and says: 'Ow, mummy. Ow! That hurts!' Then she strokes my cheek to show that she's genuinely concerned.

She's not just referring to my spots anymore; there is now a patch of raw-looking dry skin which flakes off around my mouth (a side effect of pregnancy, I hope).

I got some hydrocortisone cream prescribed, mainly to save myself from further toddler-related embarrassment, only to discover that toddlers will never cease to amaze you with how funny they can be. If only my child's candour wasn't deeply shaming me in the process.

When D saw me, my mouth caked in cream, she started shrieking with excitement:

'Mayo! Mayo! Mayo!'

It's now a running joke. Diana looks at me (face cream or not), shouts 'Mayo!' and starts cackling delightedly, having taken a cue from her father, who erupted in fits of laughter when the incident occurred.

While I'm thrilled to be the family's source of comedy, I have to wonder if turning into 'mayo' face means my days of feeling at all attractive are officially over.