Yesterday was an exciting day for Sam. He graduated from standing up and looking at his feet planted solidly on the floor and merely willing to them move by giving them hard Paddington Bear stares to being able to take his first proper unassisted baby steps. He has been extremely determined to get moving for a while now and would get quite frustrated it wasn’t happening. We’re not quite walking yet, but it looks close.
Bill just stood as far away from Sam and I as possible on Monday evening and wouldn’t stop laughing. The reason? OK, here it comes.
Bear in mind that Sam’d already forced me to put my jammy bottoms on because he’d happily peed all over my trousers while I was changing him. With the clean nappy box empty I put the boy in his cot and went to extract a clean nappy from the tumble dryer. In the kitchen I found Bill making ice cream and got distracted helping him create some workspace so he had room to complete his masterpiece. One empty dishwasher and an ice cream taste test later I remembered why I’d gone into the kitchen.
From the nursery I could hear cackling and giggling so I was relieved that Sam was quite content and obviously playing happily and safely on his own. I grabbed the clean nappy and meandered back to sort him out. I was unprepared for the horror that to face me.
There bobbing up and down, peeking over the side of the cot was a face that broke into a big grin and excited gasps as I approached. I entered the doorway and a vile waft of stench hit my nostrils. Sam was looking up at me in delight. He was having a great time smearing something all over the side of the cot, on his face, on his walls, everywhere he could possibly reach. That something was really nasty. That something was brown and gooey and it wasn’t chocolate.