No, not some disastrous test of the survivability of the car's baby capsule, but rather the mysterious first ever self-propelled flip by the lad from face down to face up. And we have no idea how he did it (though maybe it has something to do with a rather large head-to-body weight ratio, as babies are want to have),.. or for that matter why. One moment he was down, and the next he was up. Bravo!
The boy is also discovering more and more about toys every day.
The scariest of all is surely the (brazillian) butterfly... attached to the side of the cot, it flaps, it spins, it glows and it plays some sort of bizarre rythmicy tunes probably last heard in some cult that worships shiny shoes. The boy was transfixed. In fact we've never seen him so mesmerised by anything in his all too short life. He didn't move, didn't burp, didn't fart - just stared. Immobile.
For about 3 minutes.
Then he screamed his head off. And we can't blame him. There was something about the eyes on the thing staring intently at you while all around it things flapped and spun and glowed. A
3-month olds version of a scene from Blue Velvet. It was evil on AAA batteries. (Not to mention that it's designed to be attached to the side of a cot - something "they" all tell you shouldn't be done. Cots are for 'sleeping only' "they" say... and we tend to agree.)We'll have to try it again next time he's having a tanty.
The other toys of choice are the personalised "Michael" rubber ducky (it goes squeak squeak when you press its bum - as a good rubber ducky should) which of course is not recommended for kiddies under the age of 72 (due to small parts), his big set of linky-chewy rings (more about them later) and the current fascination - the rattle.
The rattle is basically a bit of sawn-off broom-handle with some bell thingys banged all over one end, and has indeed come into its own since the boy discovered clutching. As in clutching hold of dad's shirt when he tries to change him (and hence a veiled "I couldn't do it, I'm only 3 (months)" attempt to dunk dads head in poo), clutching hold of the milk-soiled bib (and attempting to eat it) then whining cos its smelly, and clutching on mums hair, glasses and boozys when she attempts to feed him. Clutching. Its fun.
And especially so when you have a stick with metal stuff on it that jangles. Or at least it seems like fun right up until the motor skills have a whoopsy, it gets that little bit out of control, and you whack a parent and/or yourself in the face with the jangly bit. Still, it keeps 3 month olds off the streets, if not the hard rubbish collection.
The aforementioned rubber rings have also the claim to fame of being one of his first learnt behaviours not involving poo, wee or milk. Mum/dad dangles the rubber ring in front of him, and with Adam Gilchrist-like glee he reaches up and plucks it out of the air. And plonks it in his mouth. At which time parent yelps with glee and boy smiles in acknowledgment of such praise. And then he does it again.
This can last all of 10+ minutes. Then he gets sick of the grabbing and is happy to just play with the ring, eat the ring, wear the ring as a bracelet or dispatch it to the floor for dad to pick up. Then a scream cos he knew he was having fun but now can't remember why. (Damn goldfish brain.)
Finally, nappies... Once again we've reached that magically wonderful time called transition. i.e., the wee comes squeezing out the "infant" sized ones and wee comes gushing out the {next size up} ones, necessitating up to four changes of baby clobber a day. The damn kid's nether region circumference is slap bang in the hey-diddle-diddle of Mr Huggies two sizes. (And yes, we are pulling out the frilly bits on the side.)
"Mop to aisle four please, we got a leaker!"But boy he's got a killer smile. Print this post
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