Fourteen WHOLE DAYS and we haven't managed to break him yet, he hasn't gone significantly wrong and (touches wood, caresses rabbit's foot, eats four leaf clover, nails horseshoe to self, seeks out seagull to entice into pooing on me) having a child actually feels kind of, well, *whispers* normal.
Obviously, I still look at him several times each day and think "bloody hell. That's a baby, and it's mine". I don't know when or if that will ever change. He's a tiny life and, in partnership with Mrs L, I'm responsible for him. Sometimes I emit an involuntary squeak when I remember that.
I can't quite believe how quickly he's changing. Every day, in amongst the nappy changes, the screaming, the little bits of sick, the lengthy naps, there are new things. I know they all do this, but this is my one doing it.
Eyes which are a little wider every day.
Starting to look over my shoulder rather than AT my shoulder.
His hair is already longer.
I'm pretty certain the tiny hands are just a tiny bit less tiny.
His cry has developed; from the steady pitch of the newborn to the incredibly insistent, anger and desperation infused wail he is now capable of.
|Demonstrating his crying skills (also uppercuts)|
If you're already a parent you probably read the above with a wry smile. Perhaps you thought "yes, but wait for the tantrums, the colic, the myriad challenges ahead of you. Just you wait, rookie, remember these peaceful days of teeny tiny baby time".
You're right. I know there's a bumpy road ahead of me, Mrs L and The Creature. But we're looking forward to it.