No time, no time to write my normal full length slushy-doting-father-mush I’m afraid old bean.
You’ve at last had some chance to get to know and catch up with Nana whilst she’s over from NZ. Having you sat on my hip to show off to her as she walked into arrivals at Heathrow was a proud moment – the last time she saw you – back in October, you were in an incubator and were a little unwell. Now you’re that extremely happy, loony, smiley, bouncing little lady and you’re all smiles whenever you see her. There goes the ineluctable slush.
You’ve now got your top incisors too, so how best to celebrate – gurn and occasionally grind your jaws together. Are you sure someone’s not dropping Es in your Cottage Pie you little groover?
You seem to be really close to standing on your own two feet now, you’ll happily clamber up against the coffee table, then pull all your toys down on top of you. Sometimes you’ll get stuck in a position mid-stand and you’re at an angle of no return, your leg muscles will be burning up and you’ll look over to us and squeal for help to sit down again – and we’ll probably leave it just that little bit longer than we should do whilst we stifle the giggles and watch you struggle. You poor little sausage.
Love you baby,