I can't believe The Kid is nearly two weeks old; I can't believe how long it seems, but on the otherhand, how it has flown; more to the point, I can't believe The Glenster is going back to work this week and leaving me to deal with this bundle all on my lonesome. Very scary indeed. Could be a while before I am back in Blogland properly - purely based on the sheer amount of washing this little bundle of joy has created so far. And let's not go near the sleep deprivation discussion.
So, a quick response to all your lovely comments:
Good Dog - Thanks mate but no, he's not letting me have ANY sleep (or so it seems)
Lucy - Aaahhhh, truck on the inside - yes, and roadkill on the inside too and please do update me on the social when arranged.
Jason - Those much referred to mittens were to stop his Freddy slasher mode - very sharp nails!
Lianne - He's well - I'm just totally in a daze!
Pots - Yours for a tenner...shall I send him to California? ;)
Pillock - Yeah, he's not too bad really - he's his Daddy's double!
Far Away - I thank you!
David Bishop - You should have seen the right hook he gave The Midwife Who Came Too Close ;)
Dom Carver - All I can say is: Get. Some. Sleep. Now.
Ok, better get back to Mother-like duties...but first, here's one to embarrass The Kid on his eighteenth...and like most good Vulcans, he's having a telepathic moment.