Six Months Later...

Sorry, I've been offline for a while. This is mainly due to the fact that I've been concentrating on other matters, such as not sleeping, screaming, shouting, singing (sort of), vomiting, pooing and weeing. I'm now brilliant at all of them.

Sometimes, I sleep all night (sometimes) but mostly I still wake up at least once. My mummy looks knackered. Daddy looks tired too, but he doesn't do as much as Mummy - he's mainly there for entertainment. He disappears to do something called 'work' but I don't know what that is. It seems to take a long time.

I did myself a disservice in the first paragraph - there's lots of other things I can do now. I can roll over onto my front and push myself up on my arms. I can't crawl yet, but I'm trying. Sometimes, I roll onto my front with such force, that I roll straight over onto my back again.



I really want to walk, but I can't without Mummy or Daddy holding me under my arms. I have a walker-thing but it's not the same, though neither Mum or Dad come with built-in sound effects. Now that they've got rid of the carpet and replaced it with laminate (apparently this is easier to clean), I can whizz around like Stirling Moss, whoever he is.


I love going in my swing in the garden, and the big swings at the park.



I love my bathtime. When I was just lying on my back it was fun enough, but now that I am starting to sit up in the bath, it's opened a whole new world for me.


I love to grab stuff and am constantly reaching out for the nearest thing - whatever it is: plant, toy, nose, light switch, DVD, ear, bird table, fish, hair - I'm really not fussed as long as I can grab it, and pull it. Or try to.

I've become increasingly fascinated by the big moving picture window in the living room. I hadn't really noticed it before, mainly because Mum and Dad don't let me look at it very much. But, in the last few months, I get to see a bit in the morning, and some in the evening. I'm not very fond of the programmes, but I love the theme tunes. My favourites are Rubbadubbers, Noddy, 64 Zoo Lane, Rory the Racing Car...I could go on, but I might imply denial of the good-natured statements made above.


Daddy has been taking me to a big bath - much colder than I am used to - for the last few months. I do like it in there, though I have to grip onto Dad like a monkey in case I fall into the water. It's much deeper than the bath. However, the good thing about this bath is that there's lots of other people in it, and some of them are little blonde girls, which is something I am quite keen on. In fact, there's nothing that gets me smiling more than ladies, of whatever age.

Other than that, life is pretty relaxed. Mum and Dad have been taking me to lots of places full of other children, toys, games and fun stuff, but I don't know what it's all about, though I like it. It's exciting. But I hope they don't leave me there forever.

Elevenses

I'm confused. I don't know what my name is. I think it's Max, but so far, and in no particular order, I am addressed as Junior Monkey, Man Cub, Maxi, Maximoo, Moozer, Monkey Moo, The Moo, Maximus and My Boy (by Daddy). Am I supposed to respond to all of them?

I think I'll just smile and wing it.

And Now I Am Ten (Weeks)

It's all turning out to be quite fun. I now engage in a range of activities competently: feeding (I am a guzzler, I know, you can tell by all the wind and farting); sleeping, which I'm just about fully-trained to achieve in a short space of time using a series of regular pats and shushing; and cry-screaming, which is what I do when I'm not feeding or sleeping.

Mr Crocodile has been my favourite toy, as I like his green fur and that he plays me nice music. Unfortunately, the tingly piano thing inside is now broken, through overuse. I'm sure there's a lesson in there for me. Thankfully, not only have I just been born (lots of presents) but it has also been Christmas (lots of presents). Mr Crocodile will not be retired, but he will be silent. For animated lights and noise now, I rely upon Alfie Bear, who keeps telling me that he loves me. I'm sure there's a lesson in there, too.

Oo, a bad thing happened the other day. I was asleep and went for a drive with Mum and Dad, and did my usual and carried on sleeping. I don't know whether it's the motion, or the fumes. Anyway, I was picked out of the car, all warm and fuzzy and sleepy, and Dad carried me into a white-walled room with a lot of seats. We sat. We got up and went into another room, me still completely zapped. Suddenly, there's a terrible pain in my leg, so I do my Option Three: screaming. I certainly woke up sharpish. And then it happened again, in my other leg. Scream some more. And then demand to be fed. That's what I'll do. Anyway, at least I know my pain reflexes are working properly.

I have been trying since I can remember to copy Mum and Dad's faces more and more, and I think I've now got smiling down off-pat. It seems to please Mum and Dad. Maybe I can use this tactic in the future. Will it work with teachers? And girls?

All in all, loving it. What a crazy place.