As bubs grows, so does the almighty power in his legs which now properly hurt when they smash into my chest. So I have now road tested my 'mommy's annoyed at you' voice in response to a particularly overexuberant flail mid feed. It seemed to work, if the look on his face and surprise fart are anything to go by.
I've started to have trouble burping him on my shoulder because he seems to prefer instead trying to scale it like Baby Everest, more interested in seeing what's on the other side. He's probably also fed up with looking at my grey hoodie. Note to self: must get one printed with zebra stripes. Or a Sudoku.
On that subject, we did buy him his first book called 'If I Were a Zebra'. All well and good but since I have an American accent and we live in England I have now reached the first 'which way do I say it?' plateau. Do we want him to call it the British 'ZEH-bra' or the American 'ZEE-bra'? Well, I guess as long as he doesn't call it 'rhinoceros' or 'Pomeranian' or 'L Ron Hubbard' we're doing ok.
I tried to read it to him after the latest Everest incident and got so far as page 1 before he finally did belch, and with fervor. Then something across the room caught his eye and the zebra was rendered about as interesting as belly button lint. Which will be probably be interesting in itself one day.
I'm sure with this personality and strong will he's going to be a handful.
And I am elated.