Amelia Poppy and Oliver James Steele

In the six nanoseconds that Milly had her scratch mitt off she managed to gouge a nice chunk out of her right [ chubby ] cheek which gave her a striking resemblance to a “mini-mini-me”.

The other highlight of the past week would be her weigh-in, which came in at a belly busting 8lbs 3oz.   This puts her in the 25th percentile of the government approved nonsensical “your baby must be this fat to be normal” graph.  Utter crap, the lot of it.

She’s now in pretty clothes rather than those romper suits that she’s in for all her other photographs.

Today we went to Le Frog Bistro in Ormskirk with our friends from the NCT classes.

From left to right we have Ryan, son of Julie and Ray; Milly-Poops; Rocko, son of Erika and Keith.  Emma and I were only marginally embarassed that Milly was in her sleep suit and the boys were fully dressed.  Bad parenting!

A good time discussing the “joys” of labour and top tips for keeping baby fed and happy were exchanged.  Emma and I were particularly impressed with the hairdryer tip and put it to fine use after Millys morning bath today.

Amelia was weighed yesterday too, we’re pleased to announce she’s gained a few ounces and is now a pleasantly plump 7lbs 6oz.

After a tame start to nappy changing, the reality of what we have produced has now hit us.  

Emma and I were both awoken at about 3.00am to the noise of something big coming from Milly’s bum.  This happened twice more in quick succession  before she started to cry, and Emma was unfortunate enough to be the one to respond.  

Amelia’s poop had escaped the nappy and soaked through her vest and her sleeper suit.  We only discovered this after Emma had held her for a while and it had soaked through Emma’s bra, the duvet cover and our duvet.

It wasn’t nice, and I’m sure things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.