Monday, May 28, 2012

Dear Boy (20 weeks)

Dear Boy,

You are 20 weeks old and growing so fast. In the last four weeks you've gained almost a kilo in weight and 4 centimetres in length. No wonder your full-length suits weren't fitting any more. This week I've packed up two drawers full of your clothes. Goodbye 000s and most of the 00s. These have been bundled into bags and will be distributed between our Mothers Group friends and the charity bins at the end of the street. I've kept some of my favourite clothes in their tiny, tiny sizes. I'll keep them under the bed until I either do something with them or hand them on to the next family baby.

You biggest and newest trick since the last letter is that you're now rolling with purpose and not just occasionally flipping over if you're laying on a sloping surface. Anytime I place you on your belly you automatically lean to your right and tumble over. Soon, I'm sure, you'll master back to front as well and I'll walk into the room and find you wedged under the coffee table. The first few times you did it, you weren't too sure if it was a good thing but plenty of clapping and laughing from your mum has convinced you it's okay. Now we just need to keep you on your belly long enough to figure out crawling.

You're continuing to experience new food and are usually fairly happy to eat whatever I put in front of you. Apple, pear, sweet potato, banana, pumpkin... bring it on. Rice cereal seems so boring in comparison. I steamed and whizzed up some new foods for you today (you weren't very happy about the whizzing)... so look out for green beans, carrot and zucchini in your near future. After that, we're moving on to apricots, avacado, potato, spinach and peas just so your plate doesn't look quite so orange as it has the last week or so.

We've also just introduced a sippy cup of water for when you're sitting in your high chair and you love, love, love being able to grasp onto those handles and put it in your mouth yourself. You weren't so fussed on the special no-spill valved spout, so it was straight onto the old-fashioned Tupperware cup that makes you dribble and cough and smile a huge wet, gummy smile. Ater all the bathwater you've probably drunk over the last months,the real thing must be a treat.

Your first cold knocked you around a little bit a few weeks ago, and since then you haven't been sleeping very well. All you want is your dummy and your mum to replace it every hour or so. Well, tonight, Dear Boy, your Dad and I have started Operation Unplug. I'm not sure you noticed and you fell back asleep without it pretty quickly once or twice after a shhh and warm, heavy hand on your chest. Fingers crossed you'll be weaned off it in the next few weeks... or months. Your Dad and I are taking it slow, we promise.

Your Bearded Uncle was the most wonderful uncle in the world last week and babysat you while you slept and while your mum and dad went to the movies for the first time since you were born. We saw The Avengers; your saw your Bearded Uncle when you woke up briefly but were very good and fell back asleep with a bottle. I think he likes you a lot. Better watch him, though, he wants to eat your glorious little cheeks right up.

You still love towelling cloths or any fabric really, your baths and laying laughing on your towel waiting for me to fill the tub. You don't love showers anymore, which is a bit sad because it was much easier on your mum than leaning over the tub or sitting in it with you and freezing. You love funny faces and watching your mum and dad laugh; you don't love the noise of the blender. You like the lights on Dad's computer and the faux flames of the gas fire; you don't like getting dressed after your bath. You like the pictures in Who Sank the Boat?; you don't like sitting through any of the Dr Suess books.


Your Mum.

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