Nappyweight champions of the world

The word for the week has been ‘gently’; repeated gently in the midst of hail storms of flailing loving excited blows to the face.

Baby’s excitement at seeing us both in the morning has progressed from a happy gurgle to the crashing of tiny hands onto our heads. Indeed, this excitable pugilistic punishment is repeated often throughout the day accompanied by the broadest of beaming smiles and loudest of affirmative screams. It does feel good to be wanted!

Babies aren’t very good at lots of things and controlling the force of their movements is just one of them. Toys aren’t put down, they’re hurled at speed. A sudden backwards jerk of the arm and a wooden block goes sailing off towards our fragile very breakable tv screen, saved only by baby’s raggedly poor aim. Another example of the force of nature that is baby, unfettered by the needs of an adult world to not have to watch Breaking Bad through a spider’s web of cracked glass or to not have to replace their smartphone screens every day or so.*

So one of the responsibilities of this entity called Dad that I’ve become along with Mum, is to help baby find the control of his tiny limbs so that when he next meets a smaller baby at soft play he doesn’t try to tear their noses from their faces in a friendly swing of the arm.

Baby’s getting very good at copying now, something that has become much more prominent in his eleventh month. So repetition of ‘gently’ with a careful guiding stroking of his hands is the order of every morning. Baby claps when we clap, points when we point, laughs when we laugh, sings when we sing but does he do gently when we do gently?

No chance..

This week baby has also been mainly pointing, screeching and dusting his hands; clapping is so ten months y’know.

* Note to phone making people – a bounceable baby-proof phone or shatterproof screen would be a wonderful thing please.

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