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Friday, January 02, 2009

It's 2009! And what a year it's been so far. In a shocking twist of fate, Lisa and I ended 2008 by finding out that we'd once again be hearing the pitter-patter of tiny feet...

Big Cat EncounterYes, that's right, Chloe's back. My Mum dropped her off yesterday with a tin of tuna and a huge sigh of relief. We'd placed Chloe into care in September in the hope of avoiding any incidences of feline infanticide, but as of today, Amelie is a quarter of a year old, and capable of fighting off any animal attacks by beating Chloe around the head with a singing dog. So we felt it was safe for the two of them to live together.

On the downside, after three months living with my Mum, Chloe's now so fat she could squash a small horse. So if she trips and falls as she's waddling past the playmat, we could have a major incident on our hands.

Not that I think we need to worry. The scene on the left is the closest Chloe's come to Amelie in the past twenty-four hours. Given the choice, she'd rather not be in the same room. She was just leaving when I snapped that photo.

Anyhoo, as responsible parents, Lisa and I spent New Year's Eve on the sofa watching 'The Most Annoying Celebrities of 2008' on BBC3. It was on for five hours, so there are obviously a lot of irritating people out there. But having slobbed out for the evening, I welcomed in the new year with a day of tireless DIY. As a result, Amelie now has a cot in the bedroom...

Note to self: buy a mattress.
Obviously it only has three sides, but that's because I can't work out how to put the front on. In the meantime it makes a handy stand for the Moses basket.

As for the rest of the bedroom, that's had a complete makeover. I've thrown out half my clothes to make room for baby stuff, and I'm gradually blocking out the light from the window with furniture, but Amelie seems to find it all quite relaxing...

Spot the baby.
No really, she is in that photo.

As for today, well Lisa celebrated Amelie's three-month birthday by heading off into town for the afternoon. So faced with sole responsibility for my daughter, I did the only sensible thing: I took her into hospital and let my work colleagues look after her for an hour. It's a lot easier to care for a baby when you've got four other people to hold her and one to make the tea. And as a bonus I might try to claim an hour's overtime.

Everyone was polite enough to comment on how much Amelie's grown, without mentioning the weight her Daddy's gained, but having already remarked upon just how alike we are, one of my colleagues waited until Amelie put on her chubbiest-cheeked, double-chinned fat face, and then said "Oooh, she really looks like Phil now". Frankly she needs to make the most of it. The way she's growing hair and I'm losing weight, we'll look like strangers in a couple of months.