Sat here with Piglet lying next to me on the bed while I type, as it is the only way I can stop him from yelling at me. He is, as ever, showing absolutely zero signs of being ready to go to bed.
OK now he is trying to kick the laptop off me.
Sometimes I wonder what is going through that little head. Probably what an awful mother I am with my laptop and my sometimes needing to leave him in his pram for a few minutes while I go to the loo, and when the parents were being given out, why didn’t he get Brad and Angelina who would surely at least have a nanny to keep him occupied when they’re off making films and giving speeches to the UN.
In fact, here is a list of what I think probably are Piglet’s Top Ten Thoughts.
2.) ANOTHER BOOB.
3.) Why sleep when you can large it up drinking milk all night?
4.) What is that glowing rectangle thing Mummy is always playing with and talking at? I WANT IT.
5.) WHY WON’T SHE LET ME HAVE THAT THING? I WANT IT. AARGH.
6.) Why am I in this chair again?
7.) Look at my amazing kicking legs!
8.) NO! NOT THE SNOWSUIT! ANYTHING BUT THE SNOWSUIT!
9.) Where is Mummy? Want Mummy! IF I SHOUT REALLY LOUDLY SHE’LL COME BACK.
10.) What is this?
It is number ten that has become most prevalent of late, as we have just started solid food. Well, Piglet has just started solid food. Mummy’s intake of solid food consists mainly of Nutella.
Well, I say started solid food. I’m not entirely sure any of it has actually got past his lips. Most of it ends up either on the floor or smeared all over his face. It has caused no end of consternation with my mother.
“WHAT? You fed him chilli?!”
“If you had started earlier and fed him purees…”
Why does one always need to justify one’s mothering choices even when following the guidance of the World Health Organisation to the letter?
Earlier on today I decided that it was finally time to use the baby hand and foot moulding set that one of my friends had given me as a gift, before Piglet’s hands and feet get too big to fit in the frame.
As you can tell, this is in no way a disaster waiting to happen.
I had decided to wait until Piglet was old enough to find this fun and, after watching him sort of enjoy the experience of throwing spaghetti about at lunchtime it occurred to me that he might be ready to stick his hands and feet in a plaster mould.
Big mistake. After the obligatory two minute wait for the mould to set was spent with Piglet wriggling around and attempting to dance on it, all that appeared in the frame was a big blob with no discernible shape, and the entire flat, including both Piglet and I, were covered in blue gel which then had to be hosed off in the shower and wiped down. Note to self: do not attempt any form of messy play or anything that requires a baby to be still for even a nanosecond.