We lay awake most of the night afraid that M wasn’t waking up to feed. Ha ha as come the morning he hungrily went at the royal boobs and happily filled himself up. We’re getting sleep so there must be something wrong! That said, S had brought home his second bout of *hand, foot and mouth disease from his guarderia. All those lovely wet open-mouthed kisses we’d been encouraging him to give to his new baby brother had been sharing this disgusting disease. Now M has the odd spot on his pretty face and we’re wondering if it’ll develop or not. E is typically doctor like when I ask her what the outcome could be. “So long as he’s feeding and gaining weight it’s fine,” she says. She answers all my layman’s medical queries this way. She quotes her mum: “Babies are basically just an intestinal tract. Food in, shit out. That’s it.”
We talked last night – about babies would you believe?! – and agreed that time is already passing quickly with this one as S is keeping us so busy with his chatting, his games, his sense of humour and his developing **attitude problem.
As dawn approached that night I woke to investigate a strange and melancholy sound downstairs. I discovered my surfboard sobbing alone in the corner of the spare room. My heart broke again as I closed the door, muffling the sound and returned to bed.
*Not to be confused with foot and mouth disease that cloven hooved animals get.
**Of course it is not a problem and we are really very delighted that he is testing his boundaries and exploring the world for himself.
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