Our health visitor back in Cardiff kept telling us, "Babywalkers are evil" and, "99.9% of infant casualties are babywalker related" so, "Whatever you do, don't get a babywalker for Harriet!" So we went ahead and bought a babywalker for Harriet. (That health visitor always had flaky reasons behind her hysterical and unsolicited offerings.)
Harriet loves it. She was unsure at first. She grizzled and looked at us, mystified by this strange seat and our disproportionate excitement over it. She didn't want to stay in it for long because she had not yet discovered its secret.
She has now and it's crazy seeing her wheel herself about. I know for sure that she likes me because she follows me around with a mix of concentration and joy on her face. If she's not squeaking along behind me she's giggling and squeaking away from me at top speed (top speed for her being pitiably slow). This new contrivance of hers has helped enthuse her crawling too. She's been moving herself about on the carpet in a haphazard way for a few days, but has been unaware of the fact that she's actually getting anywhere. Now however she knows she can move, knows she is moving, and wants to be moving all the time.
Little Miss Independent.
With this new state of independence in mind we have decided that we will change Harriet's sleeping arrangements on the 12th February, her 8-month birthday. If you've not read all my blogs you may not know that we have a brilliant cot that butts up to our bed, with a bolster to keep Harriet in and me out.
At the moment she is safe because she can't crawl off and hurt herself. In just seventeen days time we'll move the cot away so we can have both of its sides up, because by then she'll be on the verge of crawling (if not crawling already) and a potential danger to herself.
The End of an era dawns. Gulp!
I had to set a date so I can prepare myself. I've read all about the difficulties of weaning, and separation anxiety, and the like, but didn't realise that I'd be the one struggling! Harriet is a wilful little lady and seems very able to take change as it comes. I, on the other hand, want to pickle this whole time of my life and climb in the jar with it.
Wholly ridiculous I know.
Oh by the way, Harriet has been exceptionally talkative today. I really do believe she is trying to tell me something.
Keep your eyes on the news, because I expect a story involving Bob, David Bowie, and some mischief with cat pooh to break very soon. The cat pooh features strongly and, if Harriet is to be trusted, David Bowie has been a bit of a bugger with it.
Harriet loves it. She was unsure at first. She grizzled and looked at us, mystified by this strange seat and our disproportionate excitement over it. She didn't want to stay in it for long because she had not yet discovered its secret.
She has now and it's crazy seeing her wheel herself about. I know for sure that she likes me because she follows me around with a mix of concentration and joy on her face. If she's not squeaking along behind me she's giggling and squeaking away from me at top speed (top speed for her being pitiably slow). This new contrivance of hers has helped enthuse her crawling too. She's been moving herself about on the carpet in a haphazard way for a few days, but has been unaware of the fact that she's actually getting anywhere. Now however she knows she can move, knows she is moving, and wants to be moving all the time.
Little Miss Independent.
With this new state of independence in mind we have decided that we will change Harriet's sleeping arrangements on the 12th February, her 8-month birthday. If you've not read all my blogs you may not know that we have a brilliant cot that butts up to our bed, with a bolster to keep Harriet in and me out.
At the moment she is safe because she can't crawl off and hurt herself. In just seventeen days time we'll move the cot away so we can have both of its sides up, because by then she'll be on the verge of crawling (if not crawling already) and a potential danger to herself.
The End of an era dawns. Gulp!
I had to set a date so I can prepare myself. I've read all about the difficulties of weaning, and separation anxiety, and the like, but didn't realise that I'd be the one struggling! Harriet is a wilful little lady and seems very able to take change as it comes. I, on the other hand, want to pickle this whole time of my life and climb in the jar with it.
Wholly ridiculous I know.
Oh by the way, Harriet has been exceptionally talkative today. I really do believe she is trying to tell me something.
Keep your eyes on the news, because I expect a story involving Bob, David Bowie, and some mischief with cat pooh to break very soon. The cat pooh features strongly and, if Harriet is to be trusted, David Bowie has been a bit of a bugger with it.
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