Is it just my baby that sounds like a Pterodactyl?

I remember the first time we properly made cub laugh. Not a smile, or a chuckle, but a proper belly laugh. He was teething, and so so so tired.  His cheeks were bright red and it was time for bed. He was 6 or 7 months old, I think.

For some reason, we thought dropping a plastic ball on his head was a good idea.  Don’t call social services, it was only a little one…. ahem. He erupted into the cutest fit of laughter, a slightly dirty and massively infectious chuckle, which we have captured on video forever and never ever get bored of watching back.

Now, something really bizarre has happened. The cute and slightly dirty laugh is now just plain dirty. Throaty, hoarse and staccatto, it sounds like a cross between a car engine backfiring, a machine gun, Catherine Tate’s Grandma, and some sort of dinosaur. Probably what I imagine a Pterodactyl might sound like.

It’s just weird. When he’s babbling and chatting away, he has the softest, gentlest baby voice. But when he laughs, it’s like he’s been possessed by a dirty old demon lady. Does this happen to other babies too? Will it go away? Please God, make it go away!

But in until he (please, please, please) grows out of it, we have found some amazing comedy use for the scary laugh. I was sitting on a bench in the local shopping centre sorting out my bags, and Cub was standing on the bench, holding onto the back, watching the people go by. And as people passed by, he was  laughing at them all, like a  fiendish dinosaur baby prince surveying his subjects. I have never seen so many people look so frightened, appalled and confused by someone so cute and small.

Old grannies approached him looking like they wanted to squeeze his cute little baby cheeks, and recoiled in horror at the machine gun chuckle. Grown men noticeably quickened their pace as they passed us by. I must admit, I might have been faffing about with the bags just a little longer than I needed to, because I was just too amused by the whole thing.

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. And when your baby makes weird noises, go scare some people. Why the hell not?

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The One with the Window Cleaner and the Shame

So there I was, sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea.  Then the doorbell went. So, as any normal adult would do, I hid.

Yep, I hid. I didn’t want to speak to anyone, I was covered in cheese sauce from the cub’s tea, and I generally couldn’t be arsed. So I dived from the sofa and crouched in the bay window. As you do…

Then the door went again, this time a knock. I was still crouched there thinking “Bollocks, go away, fuck, fuck, bollocks”

I should just emphasise that I had no real reason to be hiding, other than that I looked like crap and couldn’t be arsed.

Knock went again. I continued with the hiding, and the under-the-breath-cursing.

Then I heard footsteps, going off the drive. “Hurrah!!! I’m free!”! I thought. I waited a bit more, just to be on the safe side. Then I nudged my nose up over the windowsill, ever so carefully, to have a look around.

And there he was, the window, cleaner, re-squeegeeing the window, six inches from my face, looking right at me. I was caught red handed. It had been raining since he had cleaned them, and he’d come round for the money. And now it was just obvious that I had been hiding. How utterly embarrassing.

Not my actual window cleaner. Credit: Telegraph.co.uk

“Alright?” he shouted, looking down at me like I’m some sort of weirdo, quite justifiably.  Mortified doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt.

I grabbed my purse and went to the door. “I was, er, just changing a nappy…” I said. I have no idea if he saw me on the sofa with the tea in the first place… but I’m pretty damn sure he knew I was fibbing.  “Right, so I just owe you for the front windows?” I said, because I forgot to leave the back gate open, and assumed he couldn’t get through to the do the back ones.

“Nope, I did the back as well.” He said. “You want to get that grass cut, love…”

I was horrified and confused. To get into our back garden, you need to go through the house, or climb over a wall that is probably 9 feet high.

“I used me ladders…”

Oh, well, that’s alright then. You obviously used your stupid ladders, because you are a sodding window cleaner and you obviously have a great big stupid bloody ladders. IT’S LOCKED FOR A REASON!!!!

The reason being that the back garden looks like an actual jungle-cum-landfill. The grass is knee level through sheer laziness, and we had recently cleaned out the garage so there is various crap on the grass waiting to be taken to the dump. And as if that isn’t bad enough, last night’s wind has taken the paper recycling and scattered it all over the garden. And it’s not all just ours, either. Pizza boxes galore.

The shame, oh the shame.

But really, that’s not OK to just climb into someone’s garden is it? Not if the door is locked? Is that really rude or really considerate? Am I liable if he falls off his ladders? Does he think I’m some sort of actual tramp now? And a lying tramp at that? Why do I even care what the window cleaner thinks? How dare he disturb my cup of tea to made me feel bad about my lack of lawnmowering?

I gave him his seven quid, cheeks burning, and made my excuses to return to an allegedly urgent baby related matter. (Baby was fast asleep. Lying again.)

Oh, the shame. The shame.

Oh my god, I have a 13 month old!

This is a post for the “Live in the now, Dude!” linky hosted over at Scribbling Mum’s blog.  The idea is to capture how life is, right now.  So, this is what it’s like right now for me and my little man!

It wasn't me!

Cub has just turned 13 months.  He is a tiny baby whirlwind, and  his main hobby at the moment is destruction.  In the past 24 hours, he has pulled a pile of DVD’s off a shelf, emptied a packet of baby wipes, thrown a tray full of food on the floor, terrorised a dog, and unravelled a toilet roll.

He is discovering cause and effect, and is massively into anything that makes a noise, anything with buttons that he can push, and anything that he can drop or throw (mainly food…) He likes to empty shapes out of a container, put them in again, and put the lid back on.

He has a little trumpet that he has just learned to blow, and looks so proud when he gets it to make a toot! And he loves to dance. That boy has got some serious moves! Every time he hears a beat, his little head bobbles about happily, as if it’s a reflex reaction to music. If he’s standing up, he’ll stamp his feet too! At the moment, he is particularly enjoying a bit of  Noah and the Whale!

He likes to play passing games. He offers you an object, saying “da!” then you take it and say “ta!,” then he takes it back, and offers it again with another “da!” He loves to play in his tent and his tunnel, though he uses the tent as a method of transport, pushing the walls to roll it over, like he’s zorbing!

He’s just started pointing at everything, and he loves to explore.  He is still very much in love with Boris, and he adores Spike, his Grandparent’s dog.  That poor old dog gets chased all over the house every weekend, when all he wants is a bit of peace. Yesterday he tried to grab the dog’s willy.  The poor dog looked horrified!! It would seem Cub has yet to develop a sense of social decency!

He’s a cheeky mimic, copying everything and everyone, trying to imitate speech, gestures and expressions. He chats constantly, and seems to pick up a new noise everyday, although the only real words he has as the moment are “da” (meaning “that”) “Mama” and “Da-doo” (He can’t make the “ee” noise yet, and sometimes, Da-doo becomes Doo-doo or Doo-Da!)

He is very affectionate and loves to give kisses, although sometimes there is just a tad too much tongue.  Daddy got 14 kisses in a row this weekend!

He’s  just on the verge of walking. Yesterday he took 5 unaided steps, but he’s still wobbly and lacking confidence. He is on his feet cruising a lot, but still loves to crawl, and is really speedy! He has started bear walking too, which is adorable.

Hopefully he will be walking in the next couple of weeks, although in a way I’m hoping he puts it off  a little longer. He’ll be so grown up then, and I’ll miss my little baby! But also, I fear this new era of walking could bring more destruction than ever!

The baby who ate everything…

Today, the cub and I went for a lovely afternoon in a local country park. I thought we could feed the ducks, play on the swings, and have some sandwiches and cake for tea.

At the park shop, they sold bags of bird seed for the bargain price of 30p. Cub has been having lots of fun throwing things lately, so I thought I’d try to get him to throw the bird seed to the ducks. I showed him how to do it, several times, and his little eyes lit up, and he goo’ed and gah’ed excitedly… I thought he was all ready to give it a go. I was very wrong… he actually grabbed a handful of seed, eyed it thoughtfully for a moment, and greedily stuffed it into his mouth.

It’s just seeds, right, how harmful can that be???

After trying to retrieve the seed from his mouth, I thought I’d continue trying to feed the ducks myself, so that he could see them waddling and quacking up close. Not a chance. After his first mouthful of that delicious bird seed, he’d got the taste for it, and tried to steal the bag back. Then he threw an almighty strop because the birds were getting the tasty seed and he wasn’t.

Duck feeding abandoned. Off to the playpark.

First we went on the swings (huge hit,) then the slide (met with mostly indifference.) Then I thought I’d let him have an explore.

This particular playground is all built on a giant sandpit, rather than squidgy flooring or grass. So, I set him down on the sand, expecting him to crawl off, play with the sand, or… something.

First he looked a bit confused by this new flooring. Then, he grabbed a huge handful of sand, and, quick as a flash, stuffed it in his mouth. I looked on in horror. You would think he would have cried, or looked disgusted, or spat it out, but no. He looked a little surprised by the texture, but was not put off. He grabbed another handful, and tried to eat that too. That one I did manage to intercept.

Play park abandoned. Off to the cafe.

I ordered a painini (for bloody six pounds bloody fifty) and a caramel shortbread, with the intention of us sharing both of them. I cut the sandwich into manageable strips, and the cake into cubes. And did he reach out eagerly and stuff them in his mouth? Nope. He played with a bit of cake, sucked it for a bit, and threw it on the floor. The sandwich was completely ignored. Obviously not sandy or seedy enough.

Good job he’s cute.