On the 21st of December, the world was supposed to end. It didn’t, as far as I can tell – though it sure has been raining a lot – but it was still an eventful day. My son, Dashiell, hit 26 months. Now, I know 26 months really isn’t a milestone, but it seemed to be for some reason. All of the sudden, when he runs, he goes quickly. When he jumps, you can see air under his feet. And then today he pointed out a windmill today and identified it as such. ‘Windmill.’ I’d never taught him that! It’s not like we see windmills on a regular basis in Milngavie. Maybe it’s because it’s the end of term, or Christmas, but Dashiell at 26 months seems bigger all the sudden. World ending? Nah, it’s just beginning.