Good Afternoon Negative Soundbyters! I am sitting in my study listening to some calming classical tunes and thinking about the week just past. Mrs H is sitting in the lounge in semi darkness enjoying the stillness and wondering how we survived the week just past. Rafe is lying peacefully on Mrs H and thinking: “What a pleasure this last week has been; pass the boob please!”
Talking of the boob, we are very fortunate in that Rafe has taken to the breast like a baba possessed. He guzzles and gulps and gurgles and generally feasts on Mrs H’s milk to the point that he puts himself in a “milk coma”. We know this because his lips sort of fall off the nipple; his head lolls back; his eyes glaze over; and milk starts dribbling from the corners of his mouth. Like any self-respecting baby, Rafe feels it is important to imbibe way more than his squash-ball sized stomach can cope with and then reproduce it on Mama or Pappa’s shoulder! Thankfully we haven’t had a projectile experience yet; but I am not counting my nappies in this regard – it is but a matter of time!
Talking of babies….what is happening on the geopolitical landscape?
The Donald continues to impress as the most powerful man on earth. Post the horrific scenes in Charlottesville, he contended in a press conference that there were some “very fine people on both sides”. Um…er…I don’t think so. While some of those on the alt left might not be everybody’s cup of tea – especially the ones who wear masks, set cars on fire and shout about bringing down capitalism all the while taking selfies on their $400 Apple i-phones; they in no way can be compared with those on the “alt right” that waved flags emblazoned with the swastika and chanted songs that glorified the Nazi tyranny and called for the subjugation of the Jews and other minorities. This is supposed to be the Land of the Free; since when did the President excuse the behaviour of Neo-Nazis and white supremacists?
Incidentally I had to look up the meaning of the “alt” prefix on Google. I know “alt” is a button on my keyboard; if you press the “alt” and the “left” or “right” direction key simultaneously the cursor skips to the end of the word in the direction you pressed. It would be nice if we could “Alt” “Left” The Donald and skip back before he was elected President and somehow find a way of keeping him locked up in Trump Tower for good! More realistically a solar eclipse, a once in a century phenomenon, is occurring on Monday - it’s just possible that as Moon passes between the Earth and the Sun, The Donald will transform into a giant, blonde gerbil!
Hold thumbs.
Anyway, should we move onto something lighter and which will hopefully bring a smile to your lips? Let’s do it.
Big love to all.
Hoddy X
A blank canvas.
That is the way a visiting “health officer” described Rafe.
I look at Rafe and I am not sure I see a blank canvas. What I see is a baby described as “Spirited” by one of the books that Mrs H acquired – “Secrets of the Baby Whisperer” – and we are only 2 ½ weeks in. We were hoping for either the “Angel” baby or the “Textbook” baby, but given his gene pool I very much doubt he was ever going to fit into either of those two categories!
He is already becoming his own little man.
So Rafe and I are out strolling one afternoon. He’s in the Baby Bjorn and I’m doing the strolling. He can’t really see anything but he seems relaxed. I talk him through what is happening around us and “we” discuss what his future might hold for him. That’s some advanced subject matter for a 2 and ½ week old but by the time we make it up to the Common I have laid out his options: Doctor, Engineer, Lawyer or Accountant. (OK and a Fireman if that’s what he really wants!) He murmurs in agreement (I am guessing) and we continue our walk. While he is not exactly heavy I decide to take a break on a park bench to take in the fresh Common air and enjoy our green and sunny surroundings. Life is good. And then I hear that fateful sound…”eh”…”eh”…”eh”….”eeeh”…”eeeeeh”…It’s like an old vintage car spluttering into life. There is every chance that the engine won’t fire, but in this instance we are talking about 8 pounds and 4oz of fine tuned baby with lungs that, while still developing, are capable of awakening those animals that thought Tooting Bec Common was a safe place to hibernate.
I stand-up quickly and look furtively around me to see if anyone is within earshot. I am still a new Dad and am sensitive to the disapproving looks I might get if passers-by see me flying solo with a new baby and no backup plan.
“Ah I know; walking calms him so let’s get back to Baby HQ” and with that I make a beeline for home. But Rafe wants to be home now; not in 15 minutes – especially being jostled around in the Baby Bjorn carrier. I cannot lie and say that we are 5 minutes away and have him believe me – because, well, he’s just over two weeks old and hasn’t yet learnt the concept of time. He just expects results when he opens his mouth.
Anyway the “ehs” quickly escalate into something a lot louder and more robust. Immediately I start navigating a path through the backstreets in case I come across another human who might think I have kidnapped a baba which, judging by my clammy forehead and stricken expression, is easily done. And it’s not like I can break into a run; that would be ill-advised given that Rafe would not take kindly to breaking my fall!
Finally Foxholme comes into view. I stagger in; Rafe gives me 1 x disapproving look as I unbuckle him and transfer him to Mrs H. His expression says it all:
“Dude next time we take the Roller – and a backup milk supply. Bouncing around on your sweaty chest was fun – for about 10 minutes – but I prefer stretching out! And lastly: we never leave home without Mrs H!”
OUT :)
Pic of the Week
The Rolls Royce and Mrs H. I think this is what Rafe was driving at!
