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Week 22 - And now I poke you in the eye 
3rd-Feb-2009 12:23 am
Apparently Hamish has reached the point where he is able to cause me injury. This morning he managed to poke me right in the eye. Granted he was either trying to grab my nose or stick his hand in my mouth, but twelve hours later it still kinda stings. I've tried explaining that eye gouging won't be permitted in the All-Styles-Baby-Fightarama, but he doesn't seem to be listening.

We managed to survive the HEAT ok with our air conditioner - frankly I'm having more hassles with the grotesque humidity we have today. I don't really want to hold onto him at the moment as he's a tiny little furnace and makes me start to sweat instantly. Its hard to elegantly put him down once he's asleep if you stick to him as well. About the only thing about the HEAT Hamish was annoyed with was that we wouldn't take him outside to look at things, although he was a bit more restless at night as well. We helped shelter benji_w, Ainsley and Jeremy from the heat on Wednesday night too, which made for a pleasant low key evening of chatting and babyness.

On Saturday we were being driven a bit mad by being trapped in the loungeroom, so we went and visited my parents and their lovely pool. Hamish had his first swim - admittedly it was only in 2 inches of water to begin with - and the jury remains out. He was tentatively playing with the water a bit, but that meant leaning forward, which meant his gigantic head pulled him off balance, so the whole process was a bit awkward. After that he got to swish around in the big pool while goldengrove held onto him, which was a mix of good and bad.

My brother and his family happened to be there too, so there was a certain amount of marvelling over how much bigger Hamish had got - he's now 6.3kg and 65cm long, making him pretty long and skinny on the baby scale. There was a bit of comparing and contrasting with his cousins, especially Samuel, who is only 9 months older. While Hamish still has goldengrove's mouth, Samuel and he look very similar, and when we compared them to photos of me and my brothers, we reckon he looks not so much like me except in a bone structure kind of way, but a lot like Wes, Samuel's dad.

However, Wes is not covered with drool, unlike Hamish and indeed most of the area around Hamish. He drools when he is happy, he drools when he is hungry, and he drools when he is tired. He drools when he's been bad or good... no, wait... He apparently found his own hands were not sufficiently large to spread drool far enough, so now he drags mine to his mouth and liberally applies spit before commanding me to go out and do the Good Work of covering everything else in spit. About the only practical effect of all this drooling is to cause him to nearly freeze in the ice blast from the air conditioning.

Photos as usual... next week, octopus wrestling!

Hooray, mozilla has let me finish this post and not segfaulted :( as I go to post
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