The baby crawled!
What a momentous day this is.
It started fairly normal and was rather pleasant (apart from the bright red juice my husband brought me this morning. It would appear that he is on a health kick and is juicing anything that stays still long enough. This morning he juiced grapes (normal), apples (normal), carrots (hmm), beetroot (HMM) and parsnip (I KNOW!). It was fairly unpleasant but I didn’t bat an eyelid, even when he told me that he had put some in the baby’s beaker and given it to her (he only told me when I freaked out at her pink vomit)).
We went to baby group where my daughter practiced her ‘zombie crawling’ as my sister calls it and I practiced being nice to other people’s children. My daughter did better than me.
I hoovered the downstairs of the house and considered introducing the baby to the sucky hose on the hoover. I decided against it when I remembered the dog’s reaction to said introduction (I came downstairs one day to find my husband hoovering the dog. He thought it would be easier than brushing her. It wasn’t. Since then the dog runs a mile when the hoover comes out).
It was in the afternoon when the baby decided to give crawling a proper go. She did well, I think she got about 2 feet until she decided that she would rather roll around like a weeble. She did, however, decide to crawl later on. In the bath. It wasn’t her best idea. She got a face full of water and wanted me and the rest of the town to know that she wasn’t happy. Then she did it again. And again. Same result every time. Funny, that.
And tonight I go off to Slimming World as I do every Tuesday night. I live for Tuesday evenings! Time off from being a mummy and a wife. As soon as I come back I will no doubt eat a mountain of food, as is tradition after group.
Oh, and in case you were wondering, no, I didn’t dream of Ryan Reynolds last night. I dreamt of Michael Buble. He helped me up the steps with the pram. Saucy, right? Pah. I’ll never stop being a mummy, will I?