Trying something new...

So, I definitely spoke too soon. Otis had a few good nights, and then a couple of bad ones again. It has been dreadfully, unbearably hot — even in our lovely, usually-cool, well-insulated unit. We've been sleeping directly beneath the breeze of our pedestal fan, with the screen door wide open, no covers, and as little clothing as is deemed suitable when sharing a bed with an infant. All three of us toss and turn — we wake one another up over and over again. It's simply not an efficient sleeping situation. But what are our alternatives?

Well, we've already established that he hates his cot. So, one night, I had a moment of genius — I folded up our doona, popped on the floor next to my side of the bed, popped a pillow on top, and plonked him down beside me. We haven't looked back! He has the reassurance of knowing I am right there with him, the comforting familiarity of our bedroom, and plenty of space — he can roll around without hitting his limbs on the bars of his cot. There is the small chance he could roll so far as to end up under the bed, but I am such a light sleeper, I react to his smallest movements and subtlest noises.

Last night Otis didn't come in with us until 4:30am! He still sleeps fitfully, and still requires the odd a sip of water or patting session, but we haven't had ant crying episodes, and we are all sleeping more comfortably and for longer periods.

OK, I know, I probably seem to have some sort of sleep obsession. There IS more to life. My days are full to the brim with loving my boy, with watching him in amazement. He can do so many different things now — he displays a new talent almost daily. He stands alone every now and then, but is still pretty unsteady on his feet. He climbs constantly — up onto the coffee table, onto the lounge, up the sixteen stairs to our unit! He's increasingly agile. And very, very fast.

His "talking" is also improving. He says Mama meaningfully almost always now. He says "hello" — mostly to passers by when we are on our balcony — "Gor" for Gordon his goldfish, and "bd" for bird. Birds fascinate him, he'll immediately stop whatever he is doing when he hears a loud tweet, or glimpses rustling feathers. He's also quite partial to watching the garbage trucks from the balcony — so stereotypically masculine an interest I nearly cringe.

His favourite thing to do at the moment is to kiss my tummy. He lifts up my top, over and over again, and laughs his head off. Then he kisses it. I am trying to use this to teach him anatomical terms. Not having much success so far!

His favourite foods at the moment are all types of fruit — banana, watermelon, strawberries, grapes. He also loves cake, which he's had quite a bit of recently due to his dual birthday celebrations — one on the day, and another party just last weekend. He's got a sweet tooth which, I have to admit, I haven't even bothered trying to curb. I don't want to be hypocritical, after all.

12 month statistics are impressive, if a little extreme and disproportionate — he's on the 95th percentile for height, off the charts for head circumference, yet only average for weight. But, I assure you, he does NOT have that lollipop look so sought after by Hollywood starlets.

I am bursting with love for my baby, who I think is the yummiest, scrummiest, loveliest creature on the planet.