iRant, iRave

Sitting at the table just now chatting with a babbling Duncan who is demolishing his toasty starting with the crusts. Last night was the first night in months he spent all of sound asleep in his cot although he did refuse to go to sleep until 1am. Most of the time it’s a teething related issue that wakes him up so we can’t really complain too much. Numbers 9 and 10 are about half way through with 11 and 12 threatening to make an imminent appearance at the bottom.

It’s rather odd looking at him and definitely seeing a wee boy looking back at us and not so much of a baby anymore. He isn’t walking just yet but there’s no rush and he isn’t far off. On a good day he can hold his balance for few seconds then realises what he’s doing and panics. Everyday he seems to attempt a new sign and it is quite amazing at how much we can see he understands.

We have to go pick up Rob from work sometime between 9 and 10pm and one evening he was running a bit later than he thought he would so we are sat waiting in the car park. I told Duncan (with the signs as well as speech) that we were waiting on daddy and then going home. About 10 minutes later Rob gets into the car and Duncan signs home. Ahhhh parental pride.

And for certain he is a daddy’s boy. All hell breaks loose on a Monday afternoon so I think we will drop the arts and craft class we started going to a couple of weeks ago. Daddy rage mixed with over stimulation from about 15 other kids of varying ages is not fun for either of us. Rest of the week is taken up with baby signing, a music group and swimming. Swimming is probably the activity that sits with him best because he doesn’t get the chance to get bored. Far too busy chasing balls and ducks, playing with the watering cans, flirting with the lifeguards, going under water and trying to crawl away from me before I help him jump in.

Anyway must be off. Time for petits filous so accidental missiles are a distinct possibility as he loads up his own spoon. Take cover!