You are turning into a proper little person these days. You laugh a lot - at the cat, at the dog, when we throw you in the air, when someone blows their nose... You've started to make a really funny face recently, sticking your bottom jaw out like Mutley. Just like your Dad, sometimes you shut everything out and go off into a little trance. I wonder what you are thinking about.
You have two teeth. Two sharp little nashers at the bottom. Unfortunately, teething came at the same time as the family Christmas cold that we all had, so the festive season wasn't a great time for sleeping.
You're getting to grips with the weaning these days, devouring chunks of roasted sweet potato, parsnip and lots and lots of toast. However, some of your naughty relatives sneaked you some of their puddings at Christmas - I thought I was a fan of all things dessert-related, but I don't think I have ever got that excited about a lemon tart. I mean, I love it, but I don't kick my legs with anticipation at the next mouthful. (I want to, of course, I just have to stop myself.)
This week, we've been on holiday with your Grandma and Grandpa Shepherd and you've been swimming for the first time. You seemed a bit scared when you first caught sight of us all half-naked with wet hair plastered to our heads. In fact, you did your special high-pitched hurty/scared scream that you only reserve for really traumatic occasions, like hitting yourself on the head with a serving spoon. But after the intial shock, you bobbed and splashed around, grinning at everyone and giggling when I threw you in the air.
Everyone that meets you thinks you are fab, even my most baby-shy friends, and your dad and I fall in love with you a little bit more every day.