...but the feeding thing is finally getting there.
Mal Jr is porking out nicely, and I no longer have to sink my teeth into a leather watch strap when he decides it's time for a nosh and attaches himself like a limpet to my boobs.
Breast-fed babies are supposed to put on 6oz per week. Mal Jr put on 12oz last week, the little porker.
I nickname him the piglet because he looks all pink and contented after a feed. He also squeals like one because when he arrived into the world he had the cord round his neck - twice. And tightly. So tightly in fact, that it has damaged his larynx a little, so when he breathes in sharply or under strain (usually when feeding) he hoots/squeaks a little. It's really rather endearing.
My Mum has pulled her head out of her arse a bit since the comment I blogged about last time. She said to me that I said on the day I had Mal Jr:
"I didn't expect to love him. I thought I would have to learn to love him, but I love him so much already."
And each day I love him more, and I am really enjoying what a smashing little person he's turning out to be. The smiles are just something else.
