“Oh! He’s lovely!” said a young woman at the pedestrian crossing, peering into the pram. I beamed and agreed that he was, while preparing myself to tackle her to the ground if she got too close to him. Ten minutes later he made one of his seamless transitions from sunny to stormy and started bawling the neighbourhood down, but luckily we were almost back at the house – and food – by that time, after a pretty successful walk to the park.
At seven weeks old, Baby B is going through a Developmental Leap – something that hadn’t been invented when R and I were parents, and which we therefore didn’t have to worry about. He’s not sure what he wants out of life just at the moment, but he’s very definite when he doesn’t get it, which is, I have to say, a little bit tiring. Luckily R and I got to go home after a few hours of jumping around and pulling silly faces, leaving his parents to the hard slog of 24-hour round baby wrangling.