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LAMB: This morning you insisted on putting on your tutu skirt and dancing (or in this case jumping because they seem to be the same thing in your mind) to your favourite song. Strangely enough your favourite song is not the theme music to a cartoon or kids TV show, it's not even a lullaby or a Wiggles song. No, you've decided that you are quite in love with Peter Gabriel's 'Solsbury Hill'.  Rather a mature choice for a 3 year old, I thought. I played it 3 times in a row for you and you bounced up and down on the bed enthusiastically the entire time. When it had finished you begged me to play it again, unfortunately Mummy was thoroughly Peter Gabrieled out.

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FOX: My beautiful (not so little) little man. You are 6 weeks old today and oh my, how you've grown. Your checks have plumped up and are ever so kissable, plus your legs are getting meatier and are almost ready to pinch. When you are awake (and not screaming) you delight us with big open-mouthed grins and cute little coos and gargles. Today you were happy to listen to my out of tune lullabies and nonsensical mutterings for twenty minutes or more without complaint. You stared at me intently, as if you were wondering what the hell I was on about. Every so often you found a random word or phrase particularly hilarious and I swear you made a sound almost like a giggle. Although, now that I think of it, it may have been in response to my terrible singing voice.

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FOX: Another day another flu. I spent the day in bed feeding you and trying to get you to sleep so that I could sleep myself. To be honest I didn't much feel like taking a photo today but I somehow managed to do it without getting out of bed. I've been meaning get a picture of you with your fox toys for a while now. At first you were having none of it but you eventually surrendered and fell asleep long enough for me to get this completely unrealistic, peaceful shot. The fox on the left is the very first thing I bought when I found out I was pregnant with you and the one on the right is one that your sister found for you (but really herself) at a handcraft market a few weeks back. I'm hoping that this will be the beginning of a little collection.

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LAMB: You received one of these noise makers in a party bag today. I was trying to show you how to use it but you kept blowing so hard that it would go flying across the room. You thought it was hilarious. You got the hang of it in the end but I began to wish I hadn't shown you. There's a good reason why they call them noise makers.

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Swimming day

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The best thing about washing day: playing hide and seek between the drying sheets.

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LAMB: Whenever you are reluctant to be photographed all I have to do is turn the camera lens onto your brother. It's never long before I see a cheeky little figure insert herself into the frame.

HAPPY (GREEK) EASTER

This year, while people were busy spoiling their mums on Mother's Day, we were at your Yiayia and Papou's house celebrating Greek Easter (or as your Daddy refers to it, real Easter). Lamb on the spit, ouzo, traditional Greek music, men talking politics, women discussing family and way too much food. It was a good day.

LAMB: you were a bit shy at first, overwhelmed with the presence of so many relatives (many of whom you wouldn't remember). You clung onto my legs for a while but you soon warmed up and were your usual, boisterous self.

FOX: You spent most of the day being nursed by many a helping hand. However, as soon as you became too noisy you always managed to find your way back to me.

Christos anesti.

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LAMB: Here you are looking at some flowers through your binoculars. You have yet to fully grasp the concept of binoculars.

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Sorry to do this twice.

 

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LAMB: When I was pregnant with you I would often daydream of what you would be like. Both your father and I are quite shy and reserved, so naturally I pictured a timid little girl hiding behind Mummy's legs. Nothing could prepare me for what I got. You are such an exuberant little ball of personality and extroversion. You do have your shy moments but you love nothing more than to make noise - lots of noise. You went over to your Aunty's place this afternoon and as soon as you exited the door an eerie stillness and quiet descended upon the house. It made me uneasy. I swear, I could hear your Dad breathing in the next room. Even the screams of a newborn cannot compete with your bellowing dramatics.

 

FOX: My little man. I'm afraid to say that you are balding. And the little hair that remains affixed to your scalp is too short to be arranged into an effective comb-over. It would have looked rather cute though.

 

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I know some day I'll look back on this time with a sentimental, rose-tinted fondness. It's inevitable. I'll remember his tiny little clammy hands, his sweet milky breath, his cheeky smile and the warmth of his little head under my chin when I cuddle him. I'll hold up his first outfit and say 'I can't believe he was ever that small'. I'll feel that maternal pang that will make me reconsider my 'never again' deceleration - for a moment, at least. But right now it feels like this is all he ever does (scream). Ever. 

When he's not peeing on me, that is.