Snail Mail

Baby D has learnt how to move in a straight line since our last instalment. He now slides across the floor on his tummy, one arm underneath his belly, the other dragging him forward like a wounded soldier in WWII crossing No Mans Land, keeping his head down dodging enemy fire; or as my less loquacious Mother would put it, like a puca-snail. Either way, yesterday he slithered out of the living room, all the way across the hall and into the bedroom all on his own with no assistance from Mama whatsoever. This was officially His First Independent Move. A milestone.
Another milestone on the horizon, of which Baby D isn’t yet aware, is Mama finding suitable childcare before she returns to work.
I’ve promised Baby D to find someone that will give him six hugs before breakfast and I won’t let him down. I met a girl yesterday who had glowing references and was great on paper but was hard to talk to.
I had a lot to tell her about Baby D. How he likes to prop his feet against your tummy and get his fat thighs stroked for a little bit before his nappy is changed; he prefers to lie for a few minutes after wakening up from his nap, hands and feet crossed, contemplating life before being picked up; he prefers to have his face wiped with his froggy sponge, not cotton wool and especially not baby wipes; when he bangs the table shouting “Eehhh!” after his Weetabix he’s looking for a mandarin orange; drinking a bottle is a task not to be rushed; he needs time to push it away, inspect the top, sit up, have a belch, think about things, then pull it back and drink some more; he flings his bunny rabbit out of bed when he can’t get to sleep but holding your hand and stroking a finger always helps him drift off.
But it was hard to talk to her, so instead of saying all of this I said, “It was great to meet you! We’ll be in touch!” and showed her out.
The search goes on…..