Eight Weeks After: Or, He's 2 Months Old Already?!
When JOOB was a month old, his grandparents came to see him. They waited 'til his first month anniversary because traditionally that marks the end of a Chinese mother's confinement. (Also, they weren't sure then if they were required to vote in the Singapore elections, but that's a different story).
Now JOOB is 2 months old, another milestone age, because now we stop counting his age in weeks, but in months. MONTHS. We have a two-month-old son. Hell, that was quick.
I should have been expecting this. After all, we upgraded from Newborn to Infant-sized nappies a short while ago, and we don't have to roll the sleeves up on some of his clothes anymore. And at 5kg he's beginning to get heavy for the baby carrier.
The nights are getting better - or else we're getting used to less sleep - and life is gradually assuming a semblance of normality once more. Little by little, I'm finding time to net again. Little by little, Skribe and I are finding time to talk to one another about things other than JOOB. Yes, little by little, we're getting our old lives back.
Except in one respect:
My little chubby bubby is a funny little bub -
Lying snug as a bug in his little bunny rug
With his tummy to his Mummy -
Watch him chugging down his grub.
Now his belly's full of yummy
He's a hiccuppy puppy
And a squirty burpy bub.
That's right, my baby inspires me to cute poetry. I'm channelling Dr Seuss. Help.
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