I think my baby’s a spy.
Or maybe she’s a really good footballer. Or she could be the head of a very impressive army.
Either way, she is definitely very skilled in the use of tactics. Just as soon as you think you’ve got her sussed…kapow! She reverses.
She sleeps twelve hours through the night for three weeks. I breathe a sigh of relief and smugly pat myself on the back. Then…kapow! She’s awake at 4am again. For six nights in a row.
She takes to solids so quickly she’s eating three full meals a day and hardly breastfeeding at all. I breathe a sigh of relief and, once again, smugly pat myself on the back. Then…kapow! All she wants is milk and she looks at her tea like it’s laced with poison.
She rolls over. And over. And over again. I puff my chest out with pride, isn’t she clever? And…yes, you guessed it…kapow! She lies flat on her back stubbornly refusing to move for two months before we see another roll again.
See? I told you. Just as soon as we think we’ve got her sussed she reverts back to what she used to be doing. It’s a very clever game.
Can’t wait for potty training. Not.