Saturday, 31 December 2011

Breaking-In The Staff

Well, I've come up with a new idea.  I heard some of my friends in nursery talking about it and it sounded faaaabooolous!  Apparently, the way it works is that their Mummy's and Daddy's put them into a bed on their own and instead of sleeping, they shout rather a lot until eventually, they're moved into a super-fantastic-extra-big-bed with Mummy and Daddy.  Now this sounds like a fantastic plan so I thought I'd look into it.  A couple of weeks ago, Mummy left her laptop within reach so I did some research and I discovered this is called 'co-sleeping' and babies who do it are happier and more secure - excellent!  Whatever it's called, I had to put this particular plan into action but I knew I had to get my timing just right if it was going to work.  I began to plot.

First of all, I started to wake up just a little bit more often at night.  I needed to break Mummy and Daddy in and get them nice and tired from replying to my shouts for Dumbles.  At first, I went back to sleep fairly quickly but then I started to stay awake for longer and longer.  Eventually, all they had to do was lift their head from their pillow and I was up and propped on my arms waiting for service.  Usually I planned it so that Mummy and Daddy had just gone to sleep around an hour previously and were just falling nicely asleep...then I shouted.  So Daddy sleepily got up, reinserted Dumbles, I rolled over with a happy chewing suck and started to snore.  They crept back into bed, closed their eyes and.......

I have LOST my DUMBLES!  This cannot BE!  

So this time, Mummy sleepily stumbled over to my cot, reinserted Dumbles and I rolled over with a happy chewing suck and started to snore...but I kept one eye open and watched Mummy just waiting for her head to hit the pillow and her eyes to close.....

MUMMY!!!!  I have LOST my DUMBLES!!!!!

This "breaking in" phase went on for a few nights until eventually, Mummy got the idea.  She pulled me out of my cot and nestled me in her bed, making a nice space between her pillow and Daddy's.  I snuggled down, wriggled a bit and...oh yes, this is nice Mummy....snnnooooooorrreeeee...... The first night was so peaceful and I slept for such a long time that Mummy thought it might not be quite such a bad idea to have me in her bed.  I did after all let her sleep in until 5:45am - a positive lie in!

However, little did she know that this was only the beginning of my plan.  The next night, after I'd shouted quite a lot, Mummy dragged me into her bed again.  Aaaahhhhh niiiiiiiicce.  I wriggled.  I snuggled.  I whacked Daddy for a while.  I blinked sleepily at Mummy.  I rolled over and I snored.  Once again, I let the staff have a nice lie in.  But the next night, it was time. 

Step 1: Shout
Step 2: Dumbles
Step 3: Mummy bed (right on target!)
Step 4: Snuggle
Step 5: Whack Daddy.
Step 6: Blink sleepily.....
Step 7: Whack Daddy.
Step 8: Smile innocently at Mummy.
Step 9: Whack Daddy.

Are we noticing a theme here?  You see, I had decided that Daddy was in my way.  It was of course lovely snuggling next to Mummy but now that I'M here, there's just no need for Daddy.  The bed isn't big enough for three Daddy!  So I started off by rolling over next to Daddy and snuggling beside him.  Then slowly I began to push.  I flattened my little back against his big back, I locked my legs and HEAVED.  He grunted, snorted a little, moved over an inch or two and I relaxed while sucking Dumbles.  I locked my little nappied bum against Daddy and HEAVE.  He grunted and gave me another couple of inches.  Mmmmmm snuggle, squirm snore.  HEAVE!  But then betrayal!  Mummy sleepily dragged me back against her - spoilsport!  I'd lost all my momentum!  But in fairness, she's really very soft and cuddly so I snuggled for a while.   But all was not lost.  I rolled over again, locked backs with Daddy and HEAVED.  Daddy grunted and rolled further to the edge of the bed to give me some space.  I stretched a little, wiggled, spread out comfortably and sucked Dumbles.  Daddy clung to the edge of the bed and tried to stay on.  I'm sure he was having a nice, restful night...HEAVE!

The next night, much the same except that this time, I decided to take a lesson from the cats. You see, I'd watched them very carefully and seen that despite their comparatively small size, when they lie diagonally, they manage to take up at least half a king sized bed.  This looked like a good idea so repeat steps 1 to 9 and suddenly there I was with Daddy clinging to one side of the bed and Mummy clinging to the other while I lay diagonally between them, cuddling teddy and busily sucking Dumbles.  Just for added sarcasm, I propped my feet up on Daddy's shoulder and flung my arm across Mummy while I snored.  Then I grabbed a handful of Daddy's pillow and started to tug on it.  Tug.  Tugtugtug.  Daddy, are you sleeping?  Tugtugtug.  Daddy, can I have your pillow please?  Tugtugtug.  Daddy grunted and pulled the pillow away from me, giving Teddy back to me.  Tugtugtug.  No Daddy, I want your pillow.  Tugtugtug.  Tug.  HEAVE.

Daddy grunted, rolled over and gently repositioned me in my little space between their pillows.  I snuggled for a while then slowly started to inch HEAVE.  Daddy sighed loudly, said some words I'm sure I'm not supposed to hear and pushed me back towards Mummy who wrapped me in her arms and cuddled me closely.  Wiggle.  Inch.  Squirm.  Tugtugtug.  Daddy, you don't really need your pillow do you?  Come to think of it Daddy, do you actually need to be here at all?  Are you sure the couch wouldn't be more comfortable for you?  Really, I'm quite sure it would.  Wiggle.  Squirm.  HEAVE.  Tugtugtug.  Isn't cosleeping wonderful Daddy?  So restful.  Tugtugtug.  

Finally, Daddy gave up.  I knew he would.  He stomped off.  Daddy?  If it's any help, you're welcome to use my bed, I'm finished with it for the night.  It even has bars on it so you won't fall off the edge like you do on this one.  Help yourself Daddy!  Daddy, why are you ignoring me?  Was it something I said?  

Tuesday, 13 December 2011

Is God Good?

I'm in a thoughtful mood at the moment.  I've just been hanging out in the common room chatting to Ben and he started off by asking about the results of Adam's latest hearing test and then ultimately about what happened after Adam was born, first with his health and then with my (thankfully temporary) inability to walk.  (And I was very conscious of Haydon sitting beside me in his wheelchair which rather put my experience into perspective!)  

After he'd heard the story, and as most people are, had been pretty shocked by our experiences, he looked at me and said, "Mate, do you believe God is good?"  It wasn't any kind of flippant question but an entirely genuine one, and as Haydon said, they'd been in Ethics class today and had spent some time discussing disability and faith so it was entirely relevant.

The question really struck me, hit a chord I suppose you could say.  I replied that yes, I do believe God is good.  Despite everything we went through and all of the dark times when I cried and asked 'why is this happening?' I still believe God is good.  As I said to Ben, I could focus on the fact that Adam got sick and all of the bones in my pelvis separated leaving me in agony and unable to walk.  I could focus on the fact that Adam very nearly died.  I could focus on the uncertainty of how disabled Adam might have been after his illness.  I could focus on the continuing uncertainty over not just what Adam can hear but what sense he is able to make of what he hears.  

Or I could focus on the fact that Adam did survive.  He wasn't supposed to, the doctors didn't believe he would, but he did anyway.  I could focus on the extraordinary medical care he received, given by committed doctors and nurses who, even when they were sure he would die, kept doing their best to save him anyway; even when it meant one of his doctors standing over his incubator through the night pumping more and more medication into him to try to stop the constant seizures.  I could...and I thank God for giving my son back to me.  So yes, I believe God is good.  That doesn't change the fact that bad things happen, and bad things *did* happen.  But God is good.  

Monday, 5 December 2011

One's Dumbles Has Died :'-(

One is in mourning.

One's Dumbles has died.

Mummy took Dumbles off me saying it sounded like a squeaky old shoe.  Well.  Of course I shouted.  In fact, I shouted quite a lot.  I don't CARE if Dumbles had died.  I don't CARE if Dumbles isn't safe.  I don't CARE if Mummy thinks I'm finished with Dumbles.  I'LL let you know when I've finished with Dumbles thank you very much.  

DUUUUMMMMMBBBBBLLLLLEEEEESSSSSSS..........Come baaaaacccckkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(some time later)

*sob*  Mummy says all good Dumbles go to heaven when they die but I'm not sure I believe her.  This is mostly because I'm sure I saw Dumbles go into the bin and while heaven may be somewhere else, I'm quite confident it isn't in the bin.  Besides, how does one work out the comparative goodness of one's Dumbles as to whether or not it deserves to go to heaven?  Is it rated on a scale of all time suckiness?  Ease and efficiency of use?  Overall customer satisfaction?

For that matter, how does one go about choosing a new Dumbles?  Because, despite my best efforts, Mummy flatly refused to give in and give Dumbles back to me.  So she leaves me with no option, I must choose another.  For as my loyal readers will know, life without Dumbles is no life at all.

Daddy had mercy on me and took me shopping to find a new Dumbles and the choice was overwhelming.  I could have had plain blue Dumbles, pink Dumbles, white Dumbles, green Dumbles, patterned Dumbles or character Dumbles.  Then there are Dumbles with brown sucky bits, beige sucky bits and white sucky bits, flat Dumbles and bumpy Dumbles.  The choice is truly amazing.  

Does my face look too green in this?
Personally, I think there should be a trying on room for new Dumbles, after all one simply has to have the right 'look', the wrong Dumbles can change an entire face don't you think?  Not to mention adding ten pounds if one is photographed from the wrong angle.  Ladies have trying on rooms for new clothes and those aren't nearly as important as Dumbles so why this oversight?  Dumbles are just so important!  I must write a letter of complaint to those who make Dumbles.

The problem was that I particularly wanted to open all of the packages and stuff each Dumbles into my mouth in turn to see which one was suckiest, but Daddy was a spoilsport and he wouldn't let me.  He was muttering something about health and hygiene but I think he was just being horrible.  This is a fundamental question:  How can one be sure one chooses the right Dumbles if one cannot suck it???

Eventually, after much deliberation, I chose a red ladybird Dumbles and a green froggy Dumbles.  At first I worried the ladybird looked too girlie but Daddy pointed out that it was red, not pink, and that there's no guarantee all ladybirds are ladies, so that was ok.

I'm sure my readers will be delighted to learn that new Dumbles are quite satisfactorily sucky.  I still miss old Dumbles though, it's just not that easy to break in a Dumbles, it takes a lot of hard work!  Sigh....If you need me, I'll be over here sucking away.

Tuesday, 22 November 2011

I Do NOT Require A Manicure!

A couple of days ago, Mummy decided I needed a manicure and pedicure.  I could have told her from the beginning this would be a mistake but she rarely listens to me.  She insisted my fingernails were approaching claw status even as I insisted they were just about perfect for a good and satisfying head scratch.  She insisted I would soon need bigger shoes in order to accommodate my toenails while I insisted they were lovely and crunchy when I stuck my feet in my mouth.  Needless to say, we could come to no amicable agreement and out came the nailclippers.  There was, however, no way I was going to take this plan lying down.  Well, based on my current physical abilities, I rephrase the last...I wasn't giving in without a fight.

You see, I had been comfortably leaning on Mummy, playing with Bee.  She sat on the floor coo-ing at my admittedly adorable antics while I flatly ignored her.  I was talking to Bee.  Mummy made the mistake of suggesting to Daddy that I was nicely calm and quiet so that it would be a perfect time to attempt a trim.  I continued talking to Bee; I knew they thought I hadn't heard them but in fact, I was quietly plotting.  Daddy passed the nailclippers to Mummy and she gently took one of my hands in hers.  At this point, I gave her *The Look*.  Sadly for her, she didn't notice.  So I started to wave my arms, wildly gesticulating at everything within view.  Mummy clung on and refused to let go as she attempted to bring the nailclippers within biting distance of a finger.  I increased the strength of my waving and began to whack and thwack all the soft bits of Mummy that I could reach (my loyal readers will know there are a fair few of those).  

Mummy started to mutter at me; I believe they were intended to be soothing words to calm me down - of course they had the opposite effect.  How DARE she?  I LIKE my nails this length!  Well.  I waved.  I whacked.  I thwacked.  I wriggled.  I jiggled.  I squirmed.  Eventually, Mummy was clinging on for dear life yet still determinedly working her way across my hand.  She attempted to bring in the big guns and suddenly, Daddy was there jiggling my toys in my face as he tried to distract me from the task at hand.  Daddy puhhhleeeaaaazzzeeee.  There's no way I'm falling for that trick.  I know precisely what you're trying to do.....MOTHER LET GO OF MY HAND THIS INSTANT!!!!

By this point, she had moved onto my second hand and I stuffed my blunt nails into my mouth in a valiant effort to protect what had been.  I tried to roll off her but she's adept at catching.  I tried to wiggle down her legs to reach the floor but clearly, she is beginning the process of growing mummy tentacles as one hand secured my body, while a second secured my hand and a mysterious third continued clipping my nails.  




I began to howl.  I screamed and I wailed knowing full well, Mummy can never resist my pathetic cries.  Aha!  Success at last!  The clippers were dropped as Mummy carefully checked to make sure she hadn't hurt me and she began to cuddle me.  Mmmm, this is nice Mummy.  I always like a cuddle.  What the...??? I don't believe it!  Just as I stopped crying, she's picking up the clippers again!  It isn't FAIR!!!!!  Daaaaaddddyyyyy!!!!!!  Heeeellllppppppp!!  I attempted to squeeze out some real tears but by this point, Mummy had moved onto my toes.

Well.  This was NOT going to be.  I felt a Herculean strength flooding into my dimpled little legs and I pushed and I kicked, and I scrabbled and I wiggled, all at the same time.  I heard Mummy saying, (somewhat sarcastically it has to be said,) "A little help here?!"  I think she was talking to Daddy.  That's usually her Talking To Daddy voice.

By now, Daddy was hanging onto my leg while he virtually lay across my thrashing body as Mummy held my desperately kicking foot as it tried to thump her hand out of the way, yet somehow she still kept right on clipping.  This woman is as stubborn as I am!  I wonder where she gets my stubbornness from?  I heard Mummy asking how on earth a seven-month-old baby managed to get quite so strong but I ignored her.  I was busy.

Slowly she worked her way across my feet but I knew I was making my mark as she stopped every now and then to wipe the sweat from her brow.  I may not be winning but at least I'm making my views on the situation known!  Come to think of it, I think my views are likely to be known in Nottingham, never mind throughout Telford.  I do have Mummy's lungs after all.  Even if she has my stubbornness.

I did rather wonder what the scene might have looked like to an outsider - a small, helpless baby, thrashing in utter panic as one adult lays across him and another holds his limbs in a deathgrip and refuses to let go....yes indeed, I told you I was being mistreated.  And have I mentioned that I DON'T WANT a pedicure??????????????????????

(Some time later)

Grumpy sigh.  
Very grumpy sigh.

Mummy won.

My fingernails will no longer make dents in my head.  My toenails are no longer crunchy in my mouth.

I am NOT impressed.

If you need me, I will be talking to Bee.  It seems, he is the only one who listens to me.

Fortunately, I like my Bee.


The same cannot be said of my Mummy or my Daddy.  

I intend to have words with them.

As soon as I can talk.

So there.

Wednesday, 26 October 2011

Mush Versus Adam

Mush versus Adam, round two.

My Mummy attempted to give me a toast soldier for my midmorning snack today.  She thought putting butter on it would make it more appealing.  She thought I could practice picking up my toast soldier and putting it into my mouth to learn to feed myself.  She thought a toast soldier would be nice.

I looked at the soldier.

The soldier looked at me.

I ignored it.

That. was the end. of that.

Tuesday, 25 October 2011

Mid-Mush Sneeze

I've realised Mummy is a rather tricky sort and I need to keep quite a close eye on her.  She's absolutely determined to change my diet from nice tasty milk to various shades of mush.  Needless to say, I'm resisting this plan rather strenuously.  I mean she's been feeding me so much orange mush that my poo is orange - this just will never do!!!

Don't get me wrong, at first I quite enjoyed mush.  It was all rather a novelty and it was fun to have a spoonful stuffed into my mouth and see just how quickly I could spit it out and what parts of Mummy I could coat with said mush.  My favourite is mid-mush sneeze - that one is fun and it always makes Mummy squeal.  Then there's the mid-mush ooze; you know the one, where a spoonful of mush is stuffed into my mouth and then as I pretend to close my mouth, in fact I'm just slowly allowing the mush to leak out of my grinning lips and down my chin.  Mummy tries to scoop it up with the spoon to stuff it in again, sometimes this works but more often it just makes me squeal.  I mean honestly, if I've decided I don't want it the first time, I definitely don't want it the second time mixed with drool.  This of course makes Mummy feel very guilty; she never can resist the sight of my tears and helpless wails so it ensures I have at least a gulp of milk to soothe me before the mush returns.

At first the mush was just bananas (an acquired taste but nice in it's own way) then we progressed to cooked apples and pears and I was very partial to those.  However, the problem is that Mummy insists on making me eat vegetables.  After a few spits, I consented to eat sweet potato and carrots, those weren't too bad but I really must draw the line at chicken mush, mince mush, cauliflower mush and most definitely parsnip mush!  I mean seriously, parsnip mush?  Doesn't the thought just make you cringe???  

I wailed.  I spit.  I oozed.  I blew raspberries for maximum mush coating and then I simply sealed my lips and waited her out, shaking my head determinedly each time the spoon approached my lips.  Finally, Mummy worked out that I was quite partial to apple and pear mush and even more partial to varieties of yogurt (it is after all quite similar to my milk and has a lovely fruity taste) the problem is that just as I was relaxing and enjoying my fruit/yogurt mush meals, Mummy decided I really did need some variety in my life.  

She's not entirely without sense so she decided to alternate spoonfuls; I couldn't believe it the first time I was settling in to my lovely pear mush and suddenly a mouthful of sweet potato/parsnip/mince mush was shoved into my mouth!  The indignity and utter shock of the moment!  I was so overcome that I found myself swallowing before I'd even realised what was happening!  But just as quickly as Mummy returned to a spoonful of nice mush, I began to plot.  The next time a spoonful approached my mouth, I kept my lips tightly sealed and just sniffed at it.  When I determined that it was just a pear spoonful, I agreed to open my lips but even as Mummy began to laugh, she filled the next spoonful with yucky mush.  I'm not daft and I could see what she was doing so this time, I kept my lips tightly sealed and just stuck my tongue out to carefully lick the end of the spoon.  When I identified parsnip, I quickly withdrew my tongue, clamped my jaws, shook my head and squealed.  Mummy tried to tempt me with milk but I flatly refused to trust her again until I smelled some nice mush on the spoon.  

The problem is that Mummy has no objection to being utterly horrible and when I'm opening my mouth to chatter and laugh at her, she shoves in some horrible mush - and worse still, she's smiling and singing to me all the while!  As if this mush is just as nice as the other mush!!!  Of course I started to cough, splutter and choke, very theatrically heaving as though I was going to be sick and just as Mummy was starting to panic and rub my back (ahh that feels nice) I smiled very cheekily indeed at her.  The problem is that at that point, I had blown my cover and Mummy realised I was just being naughty.

This week, it's even worse because my teeth really are hurting me and just when I want Mummy to be very nice indeed and let me live on pears, apples, yogurt and milk, she's refusing my very polite request!  I'm not sleeping very well because my teeth hurt so much and even though she's given me my first ever spoonful of something called Calpol (it tasted like strawberries but it made me stop crying at least) she's still being horrible and making me eat mush.  At least she's finally allowed me to stop having the parsnip and cauliflower but still insists on the sweet potato and carrot - just because I liked it two weeks ago does NOT mean I like it now Mummy!

All of that to say, I've realised I really do need to keep a very close eye on Mummy as she is clearly such a tricky sort.  I've been having some very close conversations with Daddy about this but unfortunately, he just tells me that he hasn't managed to stop Mummy making him do things he really doesn't want to do, so he wishes me luck with it.  ::sigh::  Whatever is a baby to do?

Friday, 30 September 2011

Quietly Making My Presence Felt

Well, on balance, I would say that my first fortnight at theological college has been a success.  I have been planning and preparing for it for quite some time because I had to ensure that I remained the absolute centre of attention.  The mere fact that my mother is an ordinand now and *dares* to have divided loyalties is simply not acceptable.  So I began to plot.   

Mother had of course moved into a residential corridor and so had a room surrounded by the rooms of other ordinands.  The walls are of course just as thick as those in any college dormitory so the sound proofing is truly of top quality construction. (Define irony: The expression of one's meaning by using language that normally signifies the opposite, typically for humorous or emphatic effect.)  I sense an opportunity.  

As most of my loyal readers will be aware, I *love* to sleep in.  5:00am is just the perfect sort of lie in.  So on that basis, once I had *finally* woken up, I wanted to make sure that all of my new friends knew I had woken up just in case they were worried about me so I decided to SHOUT RATHER LOUDLY.  
Mother tried toys.  
Mother tried my dummy.  
Mother tried milk.  
Mother tried a nice warm cuddle in her bed.  
Mother tried a nappy change, dressing me, playing with me, putting my dummy in (pppffffftttttt) and all sorts of other things.  
Yes Adam.  In fact, I do think your new friends are awake by now, however the definition of "friends" might be a touch flexible.  
Adam dear, it's 5:30am, I think we can be *certain* that you're making an impression.  
Never mind Adam, you wouldn't understand.  
Yes, Adam, later would be good.

So later arrived.  I knew mother was very worried about leaving me in nursery for the first time so I made absolutely certain she knew where my priorities lay and my first port of call was to utterly and completely charm my key worker, Tracey.  Mom passed me into Tracey's arms trying to choke back her tears and I gave Tracey a BIG grin to begin the offensive.  She jiggled me a a bit in her arms and bounced me up and down and I started to laugh (I've read somewhere that no one can resist a giggling baby).  Mother snuck out the door wiping away her tears and I flatly ignored her.  I was busy.  It took me no more than an hour to entirely charm Tracey and the rest of the morning to ensure the rest of the staff knew I was going to be their favourite.  (As my readers will note, humility is one of my strengths.  I get that from my mother.)  All in all, the morning was a success.

As you might expect, Mother has to go to chapel quite a lot, something to do with wanting to be a Vicar.  There's Morning Prayer every day at 8am and a Communion service on Wednesday at 5:15pm.  There was no way I was going to attend these services quietly, I had to be certain EVERYONE knew I was there so I employed a variety of tactics for these times.  I felt Morning Prayer would be the best time to join in with the singing and to shout along with the music but unfortunately, not too many people noticed me because they were all singing too.  I therefore hatched plan B and picked my moment very carefully.  About twenty minutes into the service was the perfect opportunity because the leader made the mistake of suggesting that all of us spend some time sitting quietly and praying to hear what the Lord might wish to say.  Aha.  I opportunity.  

I tried to make it as loud as I could.  
Mother tried the dummy.  
PPPFFFFTTTTTTT!!!  No thanks Mum, I don't need that.  BAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
She tried wiggling my butterfly in front of me.  Nah.  Boring.  BAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
She tried bouncing me up and down.  Ooooh this is fun!  BAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
Then she made the somewhat catastrophic mistake of attempting to shush me.  
The INDIGNITY!  I don't DO shush.  BAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Success.  I have made my mark.   And with that, at 8:29 with 1 minute to go before chapel ends and breakfast begins...I fell asleep.  Excellent.  Mother was QUITE delighted with me.  She told me so.  In no uncertain terms.  Aaahhhhhh.  Adam has arrived.  

So, that was Morning Prayer.  How to make my mark on the Communion Service?  I particularly liked this one, there were three other babies there so I had some friends to play with.  We shouted and danced along with the songs but that didn't really make me stand out because it was some quite loud singing so everyone just smiled indulgently at us.  This isn't nearly the impact I was hoping for so I watched, I waited and I plotted.

Then, I spied my moment.  I noticed a man in a dress standing at the front of the chapel.  (Mother tells me this isn't a dress but in fact clerical robes.  Personally, I don't see the difference.  She also says he's the Dean of Studies, the Reverend Doctor Ian Paul.  So I'm guessing he's the sort of person we should be listening to?)  The Reverend Doctor suggested that we should all take some time for quiet.  (Yes, a developing situation here.)  Then he suggested that all of us take some time to confess our sins before God.  (Aha!)  

I thought about it.  I took some time to form it.  I rocked a bit.  I could feel it was in there, it was just...the...timing.....and success!  I let out the single loudest, most multi-tonal belch I think I have ever uttered (well except for my early days with colic but we won't count that).  Oh yes, I had made my mark.  Mother was stifling some rather embarrassed laughter and the other parents around her were grinning too.  Then I looked around and discovered that there were a fair few people further afield in the chapel also stifling grins with hands covering their faces.  Hmmm.  I do hope you're all thinking about your sins people!  You are trainee Vicars so it does come with the job now!  Ahem.........Adam has arrived.

Do we think that was enough for one evening?  Oh goodness no, I'm just getting started.  The man in the dress was back again. (They're robes Adam dear.)  Yeah, anyway, the man in the dress was back.  He mentioned something about gathering around the Lord's table for supper.  Excellent!  Supper?  Someone mentioned supper?  Fabulous, I'm hungry now Mother, I'd like some supper please!  (Adam, you're missing the point, it's the LORD'S supper, not Adam's supper.)  MOTHER!  I WANT MY SUPPER NOW!!!!!!!!  

Thankfully, Mother got the point *quite* quickly and started spooning carrot porridge into my mouth.  (It's a lovely mixture of carrot, baby rice and my milk.  I'm really quite fond of it.)  I had a HUGE bowl of carrot porridge, thus ensuring that Mother entirely missed her Communion. But that was alright, I was full now and that's all that mattered.  So with that, at 1829, I began to snore.  Loudly of course.  Fortunately Mother's supper started at 1830 so she thought I'd fallen asleep at just the perfect time.  Excellent, I'm so glad to please.  You see, I was just being considerate and allowing the staff some time to eat themselves.  One must ensure one keeps the staff well fed, otherwise they become discontented and may even risk paying less attention to ones needs.  This, of course, cannot be allowed.

All in all, I'd say my first fortnight at theological college has been a distinct success.  Yes mother, I think I'll go again thank you very much.  It was fun.  :-)

Tuesday, 30 August 2011

Muffin Tops and Portliness

Baby Games
I have decided that I am getting entirely too portly and it is time to incorporate some fitness into my daily regime lest my muffin top begins to spill out of my babygro.  I was horrified when my health visitor, Wendy, put me onto the scales a week ago and I heard that I have ballooned to a whole 16.5lbs!  Well, this just has to stop.  If I'm not careful, I'll be hitting my twenties!! I know Mummy, and everyone who sees me, thinks I'm entirely adorable but I have no wish to rival the muffin man.  So exercise it is.

I began by adding some extra and very enthusiastic kicking into my routine.  I figured the soft spots on Mummy were a perfect target, after all, I would want to get sore feet by kicking hard things now would I?   Mummy doesn't mind, she's quite durable really - and she has lots of soft spots to choose from so I'm sure she'll be just fine.  

Then I decided 'Dumbles String' would be the perfect next step.  You see, Mummy keeps my dumbles on a string attached to my jumper to make sure I don't lose it - life is not worth living without a dumbles after all.  So as I've recently learned how to grasp my dumbles to remove it from my mouth (usually before I've actually finished with it just to keep the staff attentive) I thought I would try grasping my dumbles in my hand, stretching my hand out to the full length of the string and repeating in lunging movements.  I try to rotate the activity so my arms are stretched left, right and centre and just to keep myself on track say "stretch 2,3,4, stretch 2,3,4, come on Adam, just a few more, you can do it!"  Of course, I do all of this in my head, I wouldn't want to let on just how much of a child prodigy I really am.  

Unfortunately though, even though I very much enjoy Dumbles String and practice it every chance I get, it doesn't seem to be having much effect on my muffin top (well, I DO like my milk after all!)  So the other day, when Mummy put me down for some tummy time, I kicked for a while, I tried to move my arms into what I thought might be the optimal position, I rocked my hips back and forth and eventually, I managed to roll over!  Mummy was very happy about that one and she smiled quite a bit. I smiled back for a while but then I decided that was quite enough exercise for one day so I went to sleep.

Then, I let things slide for a few days, really lost my momentum.  So last night I realised that I really had to get started again and it was time for a big push.  So I woke up and I began to rock.  I rocked back and forth as hard as I could to really get some good motion in my hips and shoulders in hopes of working off some of this pudge.  My basket rocked back and forth on the wooden floor and my pj's began to get distinctly twisted around me.  Then suddenly, to my disgust, a dumbles was shoved into my mouth!  I think the staff actually wanted me to stop my exercises to go to sleep!  The indignity of it all!!!  Oh.  Have I mentioned that it was 11:30pm?  Hmm.  Maybe I should have mentioned that part.

No matter, I had a short one hour nap, I set to again.  I began to rock.  I rocked and I rolled and I shook my basket as hard as I could.  Daddy, why are you sighing quite so loudly?  I'm only exercising!  So what if it's 12:30am - Carpe Diem!  Seize the day!  What's this? Mmmmfff.  Ahh.  A dumbles again.  No matter, another nap will round things off quite nicely.  

PPPPFFFFFFFTTTTTTT.  It was now 1am.  My dumbles was no longer required thank you very much.  Time to rock and roll!  This time Daddy started to say some bad words, I'm not supposed to know what they mean yet.  Fortunately, Mummy told him off and sleepily got up to remove me from my basket.  Excellent - room to stretch and play!  She carried me downstairs, changed me and gave me some lovely warm milk.  Oh it is nice to have a mid-exercise snack.  Just gives you the energy you need to keep going don't you find?  I finished all of the bottle I required, I felt it best to leave around 40mls or so, I wouldn't want to be 'milk drunk' after all, I might not have the energy to keep playing!  I chuckled and I rocked in Mummy's arms, I kicked her squidgy bits and I screamed from time to time when she tried to soothe me.  I don't WANT to be soothed thank you very much!  It's exercise time!!!  

I knew it must be getting bad when Mummy picked up one of her theology books.  Oh dear, she's reading THAT at 1:30am?  She must know I'm in for the long haul!  She read a chapter or two and left me to rock and kick on her lap, stroking my head from time to time (that really was nice) and eventually, I couldn't hold out any longer and I fell slowly asleep.  Mummy checked out of the corner of her eye and heaved a sigh of relief.  She left me for a few more moments and then very gingerly transferred me to my basket.  I lay there, plotting my next move.  After a few moments, she was convinced I was soundly asleep so she gently carried my basket back upstairs, placed it in it's rocking frame and crept back into her own bed.  I lay and I plotted.  It was 1:58am.

I wanted to give them just enough time to be fully relaxed - no point stressing out the staff after all, they're just not quite so attentive one finds.  So I had a short snooze and at precisely 3:32am, I let out a loud SCREECH to inform the staff that I was awake and once again I began to rock and roll.  Daddy VERY firmly inserted my dumbles and swore a little bit.  Mummy hit him.  I continued to rock.  A few moments later, after a nice little suck, PPPPFFFFFTTTTTT.  I'm finished with that, thanks Dad.  Daddy however, was determined.  In my dumbles went again.  PPPPPPFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTT.  No really Dad, I just couldn't have another suck.  Besides, I'm busy.  Rock.  Roll.  Rock.  Roll.  Rock.....PPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTT.  DAD, I TOLD you, I don't WANT my dumbles!!!!  Daddy what does that word mean?  I haven't heard that one before.  Daddy do you still love me?  

Mummy informed Daddy very precisely that he could stop doing that right now and actually take me out of my basket and GO FEED ME.  Clearly, I wasn't going to go back to sleep and she'd already done one shift so it was HIS TURN.  Daddy stomped off to find his dressing gown as Mummy pulled a pillow over her head.  Meanwhile, I continued to rock.  Daddy took me downstairs, changed me again and once again gave me some lovely warm milk.  Mmmm....yes, I think just about 100mls this time thanks Dad.  Just enough to see me through.  5:15am, I had fallen asleep.  Daddy had finally run out of swear words and carried my basket back upstairs again, thinking I would stay asleep.  He deposited my basket into my rocking cradle and marched back downstairs again to watch the news.  Well now, I couldn't have that.  I began to scream.  Not a crying scream you understand, just a scream that informed the staff that I REQUIRED attention AT ONCE.  

Daddy stomped back upstairs and sat on the side of the bed vainly attempting to pat me, soothe me and insert my dumbles.  Oh no Dad, it just isn't that easy I'm afraid.  I want to PLAY.  I rocked.  I rolled.  I decided to do some leg stretches from the waist, lifting both legs straight up and almost over to my shoulders.  That was a good one, I liked that one.  Finally, at 5:54am, Daddy gave up and once again removed my basket from it's cradle and took it back downstairs again.  Ahh, this was more like it.  The acoustics in the lounge are just so much better for screaming.  Daddy put me down on my playmat, thinking I would like to jingle my toys about.  Well I did, and I rocked, I rolled, I played Dumbles String, I did my leg lifts and I screamed.  In short, I was having a fabulous time.  Daddy...not so much.  At one point, he even walked outside to feed the dog.  Oh the indignity of being left on my own, safely on the floor, for a whole 30seconds!!  Well, if you thought my screaming couldn't get any were wrong.

Finally, at 6:30, Mummy gave up and got into the shower.  Daddy brought me back upstairs and laid me down on their bed hoping the nice comfortable spot might soothe me, and more importantly, help me be quiet.  Oh heavens no!  It was just the ideal spot for trying to roll over while squeaking!  Eventually, it was Daddy's turn for a shower and as Mummy did the ironing, I could tell she was cooking up a plot.  She just gets this *look* on her face.  Daddy finished his shower and Mummy notified him that today, she was going to see if I was ready for some fruit.  "Mushed up banana I think.  After his next bottle, we're going to Asda and buying some bananas."  I think she hopes some solid food might help me sleep a bit better tonight.  We'll see, I'm not sure if I like banana yet so if you happen to see Mummy splattered with banana pieces later on, don't hold it against her - it's sure to be my fault. 

P.S.  I lasted till 7:30am, then decided it was high time for a nap.  Daddy left for work at 7:45am and I'm SURE he still loves me.  Mummy snuggled up on the couch hoping for a snooze herself so I made sure to wake up at 8:02am.  I do hope she enjoyed her long, restful nap!  I'm so good to the staff, I even let them sleep see!  Not all babies are so considerate...

P.S.S  It's now 11:42am.  I'm asleep of course.  If you need to get in touch with me, just contact the office.  Don't worry, the staff are on duty 24/7.  They're good that way, always available.

(Adam, game, set and match.   ::sigh::)

Sunday, 7 August 2011

Walking For Adam - How It Went

 Good Morning!

Yes we are alive and yes Chris did complete the walk - we were all a bit too shattered to put the details online last night though!

Chris and Lynne on the A5
Chris finished at the hospital at 7:00pm last night surrounded by the whole family, most of whom walked the last mile with him.  The final five miles were incredibly hard for him, his hip had given out and the pain killers were no longer helping much so it was little more than determination and will power that kept him going.  By the final two miles he was limping and walking very slowly...but he got there.

My sister Lynne walked the longest distance with him, a total of 13 miles.  My niece Nicole walked five miles doing the first lap of the Wrekin and Chris's sister Alison walked with him for around two miles towards the end as he entered Shrewsbury.  George climbed the Wrekin with Lynne (on the gentler side) for the first lap and then joined Chris again for the final two miles from Meole Brace to the hospital.  Lynne, Nicole, Adam and I along with Chris's parents met him for the final mile mostly just to hold him up as he finished.  For the rest of the day, I was handling communications, picnic's, driving back and forth to make sure everyone was in the right place at the right time and babysitting the children - by the end of it, I was nearly as exhausted as everyone else even if I didn't have the stiff muscles to show for my efforts!

We also heard late last night that my brother-in-law Dwayne finished his 23 mile (37 kilometre) walk in Canada at 2pm Canadian time (he'd started at 5am to be walking with us albeit 3,000 miles apart).  Sickeningly enough, he probably has the most energy of all of us as he's off out to an outdoors show today!  We love you Dwayne, you're just too fit for us and we're jealous... :-)

Chris recording a video diary
Chris and I were absolutely delighted that most of the key staff who cared for Adam in that crucial first week in Neo Natal were on duty last night so when we went in to the Unit, we saw "Auntie Sarah", Steve and Gina among others which meant so much to us.  Both Sarah and Gina had a nice cuddle and Sarah took Adam into Intensive Care to show him his little corner where he spent his first week of life.  

They had been following our story through some of the publicity and we were touched they were so grateful both for our efforts and also for the newspaper stories in which we talked about how excellent their care was for Adam and also for us.  Apparently when Sarah read how grateful we were, she got a little choked up and said this is the sort of thing that keeps them going.  I can't imagine how hard their job is because for every child like Adam who leaves the Unit healthy and well, there must be so many others who don't make it.  It must be so hard to pour so much energy, skill and even love into your work only to have a child die, my heart goes out to them even as I'm more grateful than I can ever possibly say for what they did for Adam.  (So Sarah, if you're reading this, grab the tissues!)  And yes, as promised, we will keep bringing Adam to visit you, I just wish we'd remembered to get a photo of all of us together with the staff.  We were originally going to go into the Labour Ward as well to show Adam to the staff there but Chris was just too close to the point of collapse so we headed out for his sake.

Once we'd gotten back to Telford, we just about had time for some fish and chips before we all collapsed into bed.  Unfortunately, I was up again at both 1:55am and again at 5:30am as a certain little someone wasn't really too bothered that we wanted to sleep - he wanted his milk and he wanted it NOW.  ::sigh::  Sadly, as my Aunt said on her birthday card, there's no mute button on either cats or babies!  This morning, Chris was in an awful lot of pain and struggling to move but a handful of tablets later and things are easing a bit.  He's moving about albeit slowly and stiffly but we're all happy to have achieved the walk.

So thank you Royal Shrewsbury Hospital, Auntie Sarah, Steve, Gina and all of the others for caring so wonderfully for our little miracle.  We hope our efforts will help buy some equipment to care for other precious babies who find the start of their life is just a little bit bumpy.

Thank you also to all of you who have donated so much, more than we
ever hoped for or imagined and who have supported our efforts financially and also with words of support, prayers and kindness that helped us keep going.  We're going to be collecting the final pledges in the coming days and then the hospital PR department will be arranging a formal cheque presentation for us.  I imagine there will be more tears that day.

So from a very tired house in which lots of coffee is flowing, have a great day - and hope yours is a little less sore than ours!

Wednesday, 27 July 2011

I Am Hungry NOW!

Dear Mom,

I like playing our games so much that I thought I'd start a new round.  You've been getting so complacent lately, thinking that just because I usually wake up for my bottle between 4-4:30am that I would always do so.  Nah.  Last night, I thought 1:45 would be a fabulous time.  It was ever so nice when you hopped out of bed, told Daddy to go back to sleep and took me downstairs to get my bottle ready.  I thought I'd try my charm first with a few giggles and grins while you changed my nappy but just when my bottle was nearly - but not quite - ready, it was time to ROAR.  I was hungry NOW.

But of course, you work quickly having become accustomed to my mid-night roars and I had the bottle in my mouth inside 2 minutes flat.  Hmmm.  Foiled.  And this really is very nice milk....

Adam, Nil.  Mummy, 1.

Well, I thought I'd drink just enough of my milk to have you believe it would be a nice quiet night.  So I drank nicely until 2:20am.  There were only 30ml's left so I had to move quickly if I wanted to have any fun.  I started to wiggle.  I scrubbed my head with my scratch mitts and I pushed the bottle out of my mouth.  I rolled my head backwards and forwards so it was in your armpit one second and looking over the other side of the room the next second.  Heaven forbid if you didn't move the bottle quickly enough to keep up!  You tried to wind me, tried to pat my back, tried to move my arm out of the way, tried to reposition my head so I would be comfortable.  Nah...I was just having fun Mum!  This is the sort of fun that can go on and on...for half an hour.  It was now 2:50am.  Such fun!

Adam, 1.  Mummy, 1.

Finally, I couldn't hold out any longer.  My bottle was nearly finished and your arms were just so comfortable that I had to have a little snooze.  Of course you thought that meant I was ready to go back to bed and even hoped you might get some sleep too.  Nah.  I was just resting my eyes Mum!  

Oh no, you're not even thinking of putting me back in my bed are you Mum?  Yes of course I was snoring, that just adds to the effect!  The moment my head was gently lowered onto my pillow...ROAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Adam, 2.  Mummy, 1.

You tried so hard Mum but I wasn't having it.  I wiggled.  I bounced my legs up and down so I was nearly doing somersaults by bending at the waist and lifting my legs all the way up and out of my basket.  I rolled from side to side.  I roared.  I screeched.  I spit my dumbles out just as many times as you put it back in again.  You even tried offering me the rest of my milk while I was lying in my bed.  Silly Mummy!  As if what I wanted was milk!  What I wanted was attention.  I was having fun!

Unfortunately, you decided to stop playing.  I couldn't believe it when you put my dumbles in and actually WALKED OUT OF THE ROOM!  How DARE you!!  Oh I roared.  Mother, if you thought I was going to take that one lying down....well to be fair, I can't sit up so I guess I had to take it lying down, but I WASN'T going to do so quietly!  Unfortunately, you ignored me and kept doing the dishes.  Oh from time to time you came in to reinsert my dumbles but however much I roared, wiggled and rolled, you were determined not to play.

Hmph.  I suppose I might as well go to sleep.  It is 3:22am after all, so I have kept you up for quite some time...and this bed really is rather comfortable...and I don't think I can resist the dim lights and tasty dumbles...sucksucksucksnoooooorrrreeee.......

Adam, 2. Mummy, 2.

Well now.  You didn't think I was going to let you have a lie in did you?  6:15 is a lovely time of day to wake up isn't it Mummy?  It's so lovely that I had to have a giggle in my basket.  You look a bit bleary eyed Mum.  How come?  Don't you want to play?  I'm up Mum and it's a BEEEOOOOTIFUL day!  Come play with me Mum!

Adam, 3.  Mummy, 2.

Now then Mum.  You rather hoped I'd have some nice long naps today didn't you?  You had so many things you wanted to do today, from cleaning some trains to sell, all the way to painting a wall.  Silly Mummy, as if I was going to let you do those things!  Of course I would have my bottle and then get very sleepy and even let out a few snores but I was just resting Mum.  Heaven forbid you should dare to put me back in my bed and be so presumptuous as to actually open the tin of paint and dip your paintbrush in.  That strikes me as the perfect time to say, "HI MUM!  WHATCHOO DOIN'???"

Mum, why are you sighing?  

Adam, 4.  Mummy, 2.

Mum you have such a way with rocking my basket.  It's so gentle and nice.  Soothing really.  And it's such a nice dumbles.  Hey Mum, have I told you I've learned a new trick?  I know how to remove my dumbles now.  You see, I just curl my fist over it, carefully work my fingers behind it and "pop!" Out it comes.  The problem is that I haven't yet worked out how to put it back in again so I have to shout:  "Mum!  MUM! I've LOST my DUMBLES!  This cannot BE!  MUUUMMMM!!!!"

"It's right here in your hand dear.  Here you go..."  (Reinsert)

2 minutes later.

"Mum!  MUM! I've LOST my DUMBLES!  This cannot BE!  MUUUMMMM!!!!"

"It's still right here in your hand dear.  If you'd stop removing it then you wouldn't think you'd lost it."  (Reinsert)

But Muuummmmm.  It's so much fun to play with my dumbles.  The only problem is....  "Mum!  MUM! I've LOST my DUMBLES!  This cannot BE!  MUUUMMMM!!!!"

Mum, why are you still sighing?  Hey, at least I let you get one brushful of paint on the wall this time.  Why are you complaining?  You've painted.  Oooohhhh.  You mean you actually wanted to finish the wall?  Silly Mummy.

"Mum!  MUM! I've LOST my DUMBLES!  This cannot BE!  MUUUMMMM!!!!"

Adam, 5.  Mummy....oh I give up.  

Wednesday, 20 July 2011


Now Mummy, you didn't honestly think you'd gotten off quite that lightly did you?  Just one night and a gently quiet easing into your morning?  (And while I'm on the subject Mom, you really should drink less coffee.  That stuff just isn't good for you.)  Anyway, that was just the beginning of my nefarious plot.  Yes, nefarious.  I do like that word.  Actually, I think I might be a bit of a child prodigy but I digress...where was I?  Oh yes...

I finally woke up at 9am, with a lovely big yawn and a long luxurious stretch.  Ahh the wonders of a nice long sleep.  It does help one start the day out right.  Now then, Mother.  Where. Is. My. Milk?  I require my milk...AT ONCE!!!!  No, I DON'T want you to change my nappy.  No I DON'T want a bath.  No, I DON'T want to get dressed.  You are NOT moving quickly enough.  I DON'T want to wait four minutes for it to warm up.  I.  WANT.  MY.  MILK.  NOW!!!

Mother, why are you looking for earplugs?  I'm not that noisy am I?  (Sweetly batting eyelashes)  You love me really.

Adam, 1.  Mummy Nil.

You know Mum, I quite like screaming.  It's rather fun.  I thought I would scream for my milk, then scream because I had wind, then scream for my dumbles, then scream because I was tired, then scream because I was awake, then scream because I wanted my nappy changed, then scream because I was lonely and wanted a cuddle.  Muuuummmmm....why do you look stressed?

Adam, 2.  Mummy Nil.

Hmmm.  Mummy you really do give nice cuddles.  I know I like screaming but I'm just so comfy...snore.....

Adam, 2, Mummy, 1. 

I decided this was just perfect.  I know Mummy thought I was sleeping, but I had one eye open really.  You see, I kept snoring just long enough to let her put me in my basket, to stroke my head gently and smile because I looked SO cute.  Then she yawned, grabbed a cushion and duvet and crawled onto the settee.  Of course there was no reason why she shouldn't have a nap as I was asleep and safe in my basket.  But I couldn't possibly let her rest could I?  When she could be awake and looking after me?  I'll just give her enough time to properly relax...I think ten minutes or so should do.  Just enough time for her to think she was going to have a niiiiccce nap.


Testing.  1,2,3.  Testing.


Ahhh, it's just so much fun to watch Mummy jump a foot into the air.

Mischief managed... 

Adam, 3.  Mummy 1.

(Some hours later...)  Ahh Mummy, it's been a lovely day.  I've had so much fun.  I'm a little hoarse now but I'm sure an hour's snooze will sort that out ready for our next match.  Mummy, why are you handing me over to Daddy?  You're not tired of playing with me are you?  Ahh Mummy, you're such a spoilsport...I was having fun.  Mummy, where are you going?  Is it nice walking outside?  Can I come with you?  Mummy?  Hrmph.  She's not listening to me.  That's not fair. 

Adam, 3, Mummy, 2.

Tuesday, 19 July 2011

The Service in this Hotel is Unacceptable!

I have decided that I've been well behaved for far too long.  This was lulling Mum into a false sense of security.  It was time to plot.  Look at that face, you can see the gears turning...

It began last night as I happily roared my way through my last bottle of the evening at around 8:30pm.  I zedded off into the land of nod and as my parents admired my sweetly sleeping face, they had no idea what was coming.  Tehehehe....

At precisely 2:56am I SCREAMED loudly, rather enjoying the effect of watching two snoring parental bodies jump a foot straight up in the air.  Of course they rushed over to my basket to find out what was wrong.  I ignored them.  I was very busy examining the new invention that is my fist.  It's a very interesting fist.  You know, as fists go....Tell me, does everyone have these long wiggling things at the end of their hands?

Adam 1, Parents Nil.

The parents stopped hyperventilating and sloped back off to bed.  They thought the crisis had passed.  Oh how innocent they the duvet was pulled over shoulders, I waited for them to yawn and start to relax and then I started to giggle.  Then I thought I'd try a new trick and I screamed again.  Nothing was wrong of course, I was just trying to figure out how loudly I could do it.  I quite like screaming.  It's particularly fun in the middle of the night, for some reason the effect is a bit more dramatic.

Unfortunately, a dumbles was rapidly inserted thus interrupting my concentration.  Bugger.

Adam 1, Parents 1.

I thought for a moment.  I sucked on my dumbles.  It is after all a nice dumbles and I do generally quite like it.  But tonight, I was busy.  I worked my tongue behind it and with a loud "ppfffffft" sound, I played projectile dumbles, just to see how far I could get it.  I think I hit my feet but I'm not quite certain as I couldn't see.  I felt it thump though so I chuckled.  Result.
Adam 2, Parents 1.

Hmmm.  They ignored me.  How dare they ignore me?  I wonder if I can scream any louder?  Oh yes.  Apparently I can.  Excellent.
Adam 3, Parents 1.

Daddy came over to my basket with a deep, tired sigh.  I grinned up at him in a most angelically cute manner.  I'm just so adorable when I want attention.  Once again, he inserted my dumbles.  Oh dear, it is a nice dumbles....snore......
Adam 3, Parents 2.

4:53am and it was time to scream.  Loudly.  Ahh the sweet sound of panic.  Success....  After all, I was hungry and my milk was overdue.  Parents, I hunger.  Feed me at once.  No, not in five minutes.  NOW.  The mere fact that I wasn't remotely hungry five minutes ago has absolutely no bearing on the matter.  I'm HUNGRY.  NOW.  Ahh, watching the parents run as I scream and writhe in my bed as though I'm being tortured while screaming loudly enough to convince the neighbours I'm being murdered is soooo much fun.
Adam 4, Parents 2.

Daddy plucked my bed out of it's rocking stand and took me downstairs where he shut the door on my roars.  I know he was making my milk but this was so unfair it was unbelievable.  I didn't know I had it in me but I succeeded in screaming even louder.  I think the dog was covering her ears.  Eventually, a whole 4.5 minutes later, I FINALLY received some milk.  The service in this hotel is just utterly unacceptable.  I must have a word with the management...

Anyway, I lulled Daddy into thinking all was well with my world. I politely finished off my milk with just a couple of loud burps into his ear and only a little bit of vomit down his back.  He's spoiled really.

Then the fun began.  I had a little short nap while he dozed with me in his arms (naughty Daddy, he knows he's not supposed to do that) and then just as he was getting comfortable, I started to wiggle.  I squirmed and I wriggled until he put me down onto my playmat.  Success.  It was now 5:46am, all in the house was nice a quiet and rested.  Not for long....

Well in my defence, I was just *practicing* my screaming.  You never know when you'll need the skill in later life.  I was *learning*.  And I needed to learn for an hour and fourteen minutes.  In other words, just enough time for the entire complement of staff to be awake and up out of their beds.  Then, mission accomplished, my work was done and it was time to rest my weary eyes.  

I slept till 9am.


Adam 5, Parents 2.  (I win)