There have been times in the past when getting out of bed at 3pm on a Sunday would've been almost normal behaviour for me. How those days have gone.
Up at 7.3o this morning to change Jamie. He pooed on me.
Then, after breakfast (Jamie had milk), Vanessa and I took him for a bath and, to be fair, it was the best one yet. We adopted a slight change of tactic this time by making the water a little warmer than previously. To our delight, he didn't cry at all, providing a lesson that even I spotted.
Next, we had our second boys' trip to the supermarket where, again, he was good. Admittedly, he did cry once but only after I bought him new trainers and then attempted to put them on him on the way home to impress Mummy. The mistake I made was to forget to take the cardboard out first. Again, another lesson learnt.
Then back for lunch and a change of nappy. Well, three changes of nappy. As soon as the first clean one was under him, he pooed on it. And then, once he was wiped down and the second one readied, he somehow managed to pee on it and me at the same time - he does like to mix up his act.
Vanessa's long time friend (and bridesmaid, don't you know) Nicole and her beautiful little daughter Tehya arrived an hour ago to meet Jamie, allowing me to retire to the spare room to write this drivel and start clearing a space for my dad to sleep from Thursday.
After that, who knows? But I don't imagine getting back to the scratcher this afternoon or any future Sunday afternoon for many years to come.
Still, I wouldn't have it any other way.
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