I’ll try not to blather on too sentimentally because I’ve done enough of that in previous updates and I am very aware I am a walking mum cliché.
But….but….OH GOD MY BABY IS ONE, WHERE IS THE TIME GOING?
(I’m ok now.)
So, little Ted is 1. We had a little party for his birthday last week, which was lovely. When I say ‘party’ I am talking in the loosest sense of the word. Just very close family and a bit of buffet. (I was stressed enough ‘catering’ for eight family members, opening a tub of M&S cocktail sausages and some Aldi dips and assembling a potato hedgehog with cheese and pineapple sticks so god knows what I’ll be like when I’ve got more on my metaphorical party plate.)
Oh and not forgetting not one but two excellent cakes made by Grandma Irene.
Comedy moment of the afternoon was when we presented the birthday boy with his first ever piece of cake – sugar-free banana cake, covered in icing that definitely wasn’t sugar-free – and all watched eagerly as his pure, untainted palate took its first real sugar hit from the icing and he began his inevitable and rapid descent into full-blown addiction.
Except…. Ted picked up the piece of cake, examined it and lobbed it across the room. Of course.
Food-throwing aside, he continues to be an absolute delight. Of course. In recent weeks he has really got into playing. As in, you can see how he is now really thinking about what he is doing when he picks up his stacking cups and holds three in one hand (a genius, clearly) or fits the rings on his giraffe-body-tower-thing or correctly puts the egg shell tops onto his squeaky egg toys.
Excuse me a minute while I get over the fact I have just typed giraffe-body-tower and squeaky egg toys.
Anyway, his play is really coming on and it is lovely to see. He is just starting to get over his strange fascination with straps. He loves playing with straps, mainly the ones on his little bumbo-style seat but also on his buggy and highchair. How odd.
When we brought him downstairs on the morning of his birthday, Graham had already set up his MegaBloks table and got his little bug trike out and a few other toys, and Ted’s face actually lit up when he saw them. Graham’s face too, now I think of it (god we will be insufferable on Christmas morning; Ted will probably leave home out of embarrassment).
After about a minute though, Ted scuttled off into the hallway to his chair and his beloved straps. He just loves those straps.
In other news, he’s starting to stand up unaided. He likes to use his beloved chair and straps to practice no-hands standing – not to be confused with handstands, YET – but is still probably a way off walking, as he’s quite wobbly and has no interest in pushing his little wooden pushcart thing at the moment.
And that’s fine.
We’ve been going to a playgroup down the road from us, which he loves almost as much as he loves his straps.
He crawls around the room at top speed, smiling as he enjoys all the space he’s got, and I think he likes to see and interact with other children. When I say ‘interact’ I mainly mean ‘go up to them and put his hand in their face and maybe try and poke them in the eye’. He’s usually gentle though. Mostly.
And he’s curious rather than malicious, of course.
Although I tried explaining this to a grandma of a baby that Ted was about to ‘interact’ with at another group – in a posher area of town – that we went to this week, and she looked at me as though I’d said he likes to threaten other kids with a sawn-off shotgun. And then she held her arm up to block Ted as he approached her precious grandbairn!
Bloody hell, I know we’re from East Hull (not posh) but there’s no need for that. Snooty bugger. (Reading this back has just made me a bit upset! Poor, curious Ted!)
Sleep is still….not to be discussed in too much detail in case I finally act upon my many threats to fling myself out of the nearest window. We had one glorious week of one wake-up a night, including one blissful night where he slept from about 11pm until 5.20am. And then the last two nights we’ve been back to two wake-ups, and two feeds. Gah. But I think he’s teething, again. So – as ever – he is excused.
Not excusable though were the recent biting incidents. As in biting me while breastfeeding. OWWWW. It’s only happened about two or three times, which I guess is OK considering he’s got eight gnashers – and I’m shuddering at the word ‘gnashers’ in the context of feeding – but I am not keen to repeat the experience. Please. Thanks.
Bye for now x
Hello, I'm Laura. I write about parenting, life, style, building a business and finding success on your own terms.
You'll find plenty here to get your teeth into. (Useless pun very much intended...) X
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