Wising up too soon

Well, we thought last week's fireworks might have kept George awake but he slept through all the whizzing and banging.

Strange, because the one thing that makes him stir in his sleep is the tiniest creak and slightest squeak of the door and its handle as we creep in to check on him just before we go to bed.

There's another thing that has started to wake him up in the night – teething. Mummy rubs some soothing banana-flavoured gel on his gums and that seems to enable him to settle back down.

George has been trying new flavours as the weaning process progresses and, with teeth on the way, has started to look longingly as mummy and daddy sip tea, coffee or even wine – just the other day he gripped the stem of mummy's glass as if he was going to wrestle it from her grasp – or eat their breakfast or lunch, which doesn't always coincide with his eating schedule.

It makes it very tempting to stick a bit of chocolate on the end of your finger so that he can have a taste (of course, we don't) and to avoid the guilty feeling that kicks in when George stares at mummy and daddy as if they're being deliberately mean, we've taken to hiding behind him while he occupies himself with throwing toys around and bashing hell out of his activity thingy.

It's never long before he realises what's going on and he's soon back – sitting on your lap and making sure he's not missing out on anything – and I think we may have made a rod for our own backs with this one. George needs almost constant attention during his waking hours. He can play on his own for a little while but is truly happy when he's got company, which seems to come with the condition that you're not allowed to sit down.

George is at his happiest when he's out and about seeing things – and when he's at home he's happiest when mummy and daddy are carrying him round the house to look at the cooker, the bookcase, the blinds in the conservatory, the pictures on the wall or the handles on the cupboards. Mummy and daddy soon tire of this little game and take a seat in the lounge, whereon George will straighten his legs and stand on your lap as if to say 'you can sit down, but I'm not sitting down until you get up again.' His little legs stamp about, dangerously close to daddy's groin, and his knees and hips wobble away – does anyone know where we can get a Las Vegas-era Elvis jumpsuit in 6-9 months size?