Four weeks old.
And we're a big boy now.
Yup... no more "newborn" huggies for Master Mike. He's graduated to the "infants" and hence we're left with a nappy mountain of mini poo-bags (AB says its our very own carbon sequestation program.) We already have some friends at the 9-weeks-preggas stage, so we suspect they wont go to waste...
And while Mike has made the first step towards tax-payer-status, dad is once again a working class man. After a few weeks joining Mistress P at home on baby standby and then getting to know little Mike and his various expulsions, the time has come (the walrus said) for AB to once again be staple gunned to the desk in Collins St and do something good for the world. Or at least write a climate forecast that gets misinterpreted by the Hun...
In the first couple of weeks this is taking the form of "every-other-day" at work. And already AB is finding that its a bit of a killer. Ever sat down to review a document, read half a page, and realised you hadn't the foggiest idea of what you've just read - or even if you had read it?!? Well thats what reduced REM sleep will do for you...
Sleep deprivation can also do funny things in other ways. Like give you a bad haircut.
Scene 1: The clan venture off to Fountain Lakes to sign their collective lives away to Medicare, and for AB to have the 6 weekly fight with a lawnmower. The wonders of mobile phone technology meant that AB and P(+M) could head off in different directions and regroup at a later time. Unfortunately Master M decided otherwise, and started bellowing like a blacksmith in mums ear.
Scene 2: Mum decides to abandon ship, and wanders back to the $15 cheap cuts (AB: "real men dont pay more than a lobster for a haircut...") and informs dad shes making a beeline for the car. Hair-cut-lady hears crying baby, sees frazzled mum, states her membership in the motherhood, gives about 3 more clips on dads head and packs him on his way.
Scene 3: At home, AB stands in front of mirror and realises that on one side his sideburn has a bizarre 60 degree slope, more akin to a skijump than a haircut, and on the other side he appears to have a mutton chop that Graeme Garden (The Goodies) would be proud of. Not to mentiona slight cocky crest atop his head... (nothing a bitta spit wouldnt fix).
All this is enough to (almost) bring a tear to the eye... something young Mike now appears to be able to do. Make tears that is. We've only seen one or two, but its something new.
New also was a wander through Sherbrooke (AB always has to stop himself saying Sherwood, and thinking of a band of merry men) forest in the Blue Dandenongs, and hence Mikes first introduction to the Aussie bush. Not that he paid much attention, strapped to dad in the baby-bjorn carrier, but we'll take his silence as a vote of delight.
Still it was just the start of a big weekend for young Mike.
Mistress P may well feel its Groundhog Day, with Mike currently feeding every 3-4 hours, but on Sunday it was also her first Mothers Day, which encompassed a trip to grandmas place on the Mornington Peninsula and subsequent stroll past the house where 37 years ago Mike's dad (i.e., AB) was of similar size, but screaming a helluva lot more it would seem. (Unlike Mike's fists of fury, AB had feet of fire, which apparently thrashed about so badly that they actually wore their way through a bunny rug...)
Really, could a mum ask for more?
Footnote: BigTum pics are now available in the BigTum photo gallery at:
http://picasaweb.google.com/windjunky/BigTum
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