Little Booda

Our little fellow is now 7 months old; he is our very own creepy-crawly at home, starting to get around to *near* where he wants to go.


But more often than not, he ends up under the drawing-room table:


He then kicks hard enough to bring up the plank (which rests on four pieces), and yell for attention as he wants to get away from there!

He’s taken to blowing loud, spitty raspberries, sometimes when I’m feeding him his cereal. And just when I am feeling exasperated and exhausted, those little almond eyes look at me with that wonderful innocence, and that happy, toothless grin appears…and I am his slave again.

His sister has become “Boodi”…and he’s “Booda”…terrible nicknames, I know…but that’s how it is!

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