Crazy Frogbaby

Well, I definitely have a creepy crawly on my hands.  The cats are packing their bags as I type…

This became fully apparent a couple of days ago when we left him playing on his bedroom floor while we had lunch, only to spot his outraged little face making its way down the corridor towards us five mins later.  He hasn’t worked out how to go at speed yet – thank god.  It’s still more of an army crawl, really, but mobility is mobility.  We’ve had to get on and affix the gate thingy to block off the living room from the hallway.  He has also become strong enough to pull himself up and reach things off the coffee table.  This is disastrous.  Everything in our flat is deadly.  And I no longer have ANYWHERE to put my coffee.

What else is new?  Well…  I’m afraid I have relented and am no longer withholding his afternoon boob.  After seven consecutive days of him crying himself to sleep without any milk, it was becoming clear that he wasn’t learning anything from this experience and was absolutely no closer to taking a bottle.  I really don’t think he connected the two things at all – but was merely confused as to why he was getting fed in the morning and evening, but not in the afternoon.  It was making both of us miserable.  I’m going to have to try crossing this bridge again at some point.

Right now he really needs his milk because he appears to be on some sort of food strike.  Every day this week he’s taken less and less solid food.  He’ll still play extensively with finger food, but practically none of it goes down the hatch.  It’s no better with purees, pasta, cereal, pouches… it seems to make no difference what we offer, he’s just not into it.  He’s even started saying no to the things that I know he likes, such as mashed avocado, philly on toast and sweet pureed fruit.  As a result, this morning’s nappy has reverted to the way it used to be when he was on a milk diet.  Hmmm.  You know what?  I’m not going to worry about this inordinately for now.  I shall continue to offer foods and see how we go…

He’s also started to sleep less than he used to.  Joy!  He used to bless me with a big, long 2-hr morning nap every day, but these days I’m lucky to get an hour – more often 40 mins.  Then he doesn’t nap again until mid afternoon.  He also seems to think that 5am is playtime… yawn.  On the plus side, I can get a good period of hands-free time during the day by placing him in the middle of a toy mountain on the floor and leaving him to wallow.

What else?  Well he continues to share his thoughts at every opportunity via a continuous stream of jibberjabber.  The latest noises-of-the-week are a clicking sound (the sort used in obscure tribal languages) and a “brrrrrr brrrrrr” noise, which makes him sound a lot like the crazy frog.   I’m not even kidding.  We wheeled him around Homebase on Saturday and he spent the whole time going “baaaa ba ba baa baaaaa….. brrrrrr brrrrrr!”.   (This morning I invited him to  compare and contrast with the crazy frog video on Youtube and he sat and grinned at it, like its deranged forgotten twin).

Right.  Now I have to go away and turn off C-Beebies because it has become infested with the utter dreadfulness that is Numberjacks (better known as Numberwang in our house).  What on earth were they thinking?  Is it still 1983?  Come back Mr Tumble… all is forgiven.


About Susan Flockhart

Bonsai lady-geek and blogger. I can hardly recall what I used to blog about pre-microbes, but these days I generally ramble about motherhood, nonsense and whatever's going on the world of tiny people
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