Our boy was born 6 months ago today. What an amazing time it has been.
6 months… it’s gone so quick, and in other ways, feel like it’s been a long time coming. When I think back to the experiences and challenges we’ve faced, it seems a little implausible that they’re all crammed into a 6 month period. But they are, and here we are.
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Leo said his first word this morning, unexpectedly really; it caught us off guard. He was in his cot and his mother was tidying up his room a bit and he wanted to be picked up, when all of a sudden he came out with, “Mum”!
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Another first – our boy is now eating some real food! He had his first real experience with food (mushed, of course) last night and loved it.
I was pretty proud to see this, a first step towards becoming a ‘big boy’, as they say in the classics.
There’s been quite a bit of discussion amongst us and relatives who’ve had babies before (either this generation or previously), about when is best to start feeding babies some food.
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I only remember one of my great-grandparents, my Grandpa’s father. I recall visiting him at a nursing home in Stawell when I was about 8, on a day trip with my grandparents.
My great-grandfather was in his late 80s at this stage and Alzheimer’s had set in. He didn’t know who we were and the whole visit was a bit boring, if I’m terribly honest: neither of us knew the other and that wasn’t about to change. He died a year or so later and his funeral was held on my birthday. That’s basically all I ever experienced directly with my great-grandparents.
Fortunately, our little lad was born with 4 surviving great-grandparents – two on my side and two on my wife’s. Those on my side live in Warrnambool and while both had met their newest descendant, he hadn’t yet been to the town I also spent the first 9 years of my life in, so we planned a weekend away to show him off.
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