Time goes by... so slowly

Well the creams and lotions the doctor prescribed seem to be working and George's skin is looking a lot better – no more angry red patches, even though it can still be a little dry in places.

It doesn't seem to have affected his sunny disposition though. He chuckles away when he's lying on his back and we're singing 'If you're happy and you know it clap your feet' – mummy and daddy know it should be hands but George's feet clap together far more easily than his curled-up fingers.

And it's songs such as these that daddy finds himself humming or singing when he's nonchalantly chopping veg, tidying toys away or having a shower – which is all well and good when there's no one about but it's a habit that should be kept in check. Remembering all the words to long-forgotten nursery rhymes is also a bit of a challenge and mummy and daddy will get to the middle section of Sing a Song of Sixpence and head off at a lyrical tangent.

This week the clocks have gone back and fitting in an extra hour of something so that George's routine fits in with the change to GMT proved more difficult than expected. An hour seemed to be such a long time and we had to stretch things out at half an hour a day over the course of two days. His body clock is now resynchronised successfully. In fact, George's body clock is quite precise – his daytime naps last exactly 40 minutes and if we feel he needs a little more sleep we settle him down again and he sleeps for another 40 minutes. For cooking purposes it would be simpler for daddy to put George down for a kip than to reset the clock and timer on the oven.

Not quite up to scratch

Poor old George, well... poor very young George actually. He's developed a rash which we think is baby eczema. It all started behind his ears, as most things that creep up on you generally do, and has spread around his neck, across his shoulders and on to his cheeks.

At first mummy and daddy were extremely worried, but trips to the doctors and the chemists seem to have allayed any fears – if not George's rash. The pharmacist also noted a touch of cradle-cap and suggested we rub in a little olive oil, which has worked wonders – even if it does give his hairstyle that comb-over look and make his scalp smell like a parmesan crisp.

Of course, George is doing his very best to scratch the top of his head, but his arms just aren't long enough. Strange, because he looks in perfect proportion to us and daddy tested his own arms and found they were long enough to scratch the ear on the other side of his head. Perhaps arms on humans grow at a different rate to other body parts.

It was even suggested that a little olive oil could be added to George's bath water, but since then the doctor has prescribed some special stuff which does the same thing – its main ingredient being soya oil. George's bath times have certainly become more fun though – mainly because he now has toys and has started giggling at all the splashing and squirting. And it has definitely been getting more splashy with the slippier rubber starfish, crabs and ducks.

After bath it's usually bed time, which we've noticed is a peak time for accidents. Not for us, but for people in general. There often seems to be an ambulance/fire engine/police car siren wailing loudly on its way to someone's misfortune in the next village (or the villages further on) that makes George stir just as we've got him off to sleep. Never normally hear them during the day for some reason.

Once he is off to sleep it's time for mummy to enjoy the regular mid-evening glut of soap operas and last night EastEnders' Evva (that's Heather to anyone outside Walford) gave birth. What she was pretty much expecting to be a baby girl turned out to be a baby boy which she immediately named George. Mummy and daddy are just hoping they haven't started a trend – first the Jack Russell terrier, now Heather's new arrival...

Bouncing baby boy

It's been fun this week. George has started to realise when people, and in particular mummy and daddy, enter or leave the room.

The fun bit is when you've got a spoonful of mushed-up butternut squash that suddenly finds its way into his ear rather than his mouth as his head shoots round to see what it was that has appeared in his peripheral vision.

It has also been a little strange this week too. George stopped overnight at his nana's house to give mummy a full night of sleep and a little lie-in too. After years of quite happily being a couple all of a sudden the house seemed half empty. It was devoid of George and felt a bit lifeless like it had lost its soul – a bit like a house without any furniture.

Even though when George is at home he is usually tucked up asleep in his room and doesn't (usually) wake until the early hours, we still missed him.

It's been quite exciting this week as well. George spent a few tentative minutes sussing out a bouncer thingy that you hook on the door frame and seemed to relish the experience. He loved it even more when daddy took the contraption off the door frame so that George could 'walk' around the house – a bit more like bounding than bouncing.

The main thing that makes us laugh at the moment are the noises he makes. George has a sort of "Charlie Says..." meow that he makes when he's tired. Problem is that this makes daddy giggle, which makes George jiggle when daddy's putting him to bed, which means George opens his eyes and we have to start all over again. He's also started blowing rasberries with his lips and gets surprised when he sprays himself with droplets of saliva – nice. And the other day he surprised mummy and daddy when, after they'd warmed a bottle for his feed and brought it to him, he seemed to exclaim "allelujah".

Hair we go again

George has had it a bit rough this past week or so. Firstly he had his last round of injections which left him with an upturned bottom lip for a couple of days, now he's got the snivels... and so has mummy.

Even though you can tell he's not quite himself you can still get a smile out of him. Apart from the smiles you get when he first sees you, it takes a little extra effort to get him giggling away.

Tickles are the best bet, then next is jigging up and down which is not as straight forward as it sounds. Mummy and daddy have to face each other with one of them holding George facing outward, then bob up and down to some music – George is one of the few males to appreciate Girls Aloud solely for their music – and just hope no one is walking past the kitchen window.

Anyway, we soon get tired of that – even if George doesn't – and it's back to George with his cold again. It doesn't seem to have affected his sense of taste though. He tried butternut squash puree this week and seems to like it. The apple juice we bought him hasn't gone down so well – in fact it seems to come up a lot more easily. So after checking the bottle and discovering that it's suitable for any age from four months up (which must include 42-year-olds), daddy has found that he quite likes it.

The other thing about George having a cold is that he doesn't sleep so well. We can hear him on the monitor with his snuffly breathing thrashing about in his sleep and the little thin patch on the back of his head is getting that bit balder. It has left daddy rubbing the top of his own head and wondering what position I must be sleeping in.

Food for thought

We all have our favourite food programmes in our house. Both mummy and daddy quite enjoy Come Dine With Me and the various Masterchef formats, daddy quite likes Jamie's American Road Trip, and George has his favourite too. He prefers The Hairy Bikers. In fact, he even does a mean impression of a throaty Harley Davidson (but not with his mouth).

His Hairy Biker fascination could be down to their lilting Geordie accents or even their proportional resemblance to daddy, but could equally be because he is trying a few new flavours and getting his first experience of different foods.

At the moment pear seems to be winning out over carrot – even though the puree made from the carrots grown in daddy's garden is a lot sweeter than the mushed-up pears from the supermarket. Mummy, though, has decided that there will be no more carrots for George – just when the latest episode of The Hairy Bikers featured some delicious-looking quinnels of carrot and pumpkin puree.

Anyway, as we all know, carrots are bright orange and the reason mummy has put a moratorium on the eating of carrots is because many of George's bibs and his new blue spoons have turned this lovely shade too.

And it's not only George's bibs that have suffered this week – daddy offered to iron a couple of vests as mummy was really busy (what could be more difficult?) and the little pictures on the fronts started reappearing on the bottom of the iron in a hot, sticky mess. Now the row of happy animals that was half-way on a journey from George's right armpit to his left look as if they've been run over by a truck. A lesson on the cruelty of life perhaps?

So mummy went shopping for a new vest or two – only she came back with a new toy. A colourful, musical-type thing that looks like a cross between a radio and a xylophone which makes lots of weird and wonderful noises. This new toy is the latest item on the must-take list when George goes out visiting (as if we need more to carry). The mistake mummy made, though, was to put it at the bottom of the bag. Every time she got George and all his paraphernalia out of the car the thing would strike up a jolly tune at considerable volume. Daddy opened the front door to welcome mummy and George home when they were only half-way up the path after hearing the unmistakable strains of Skip to the Loo My Darling.

Nature or nurture

George is developing a little personality all of his own – well, I say all of his own, but there are bits that he definitely gets from his mummy and daddy.

Unlike daddy, he's a real happy chappy first thing in the morning, and just like mummy he sticks his tongue out a little when he laughs.

This week he's found his hands and the first two fingers on his right hand have found a permanent home in his mouth – apparently daddy sucked these two fingers (his own – not George's) when he was a baby. The only trouble with this is that when someone coos at George he beams toothlessly as his fingers slip out of his mouth, giving the impression that he is either making a very rude gesture or asking for a cigarette.

The other thing George has found this week is his voice. He has always been a gurgling, ga-ga-ing baby, but all of a sudden his vocal range has taken on a whole new variety of sounds and volumes – probably to make himself heard after a noisy few days away with grandparents and dog. Hopefully, volume will be restored to normal level over the next week or so.

George, now four months old, has been trying a little bit of baby rice and pear puree and he seems to instinctively know how to use a spoon just as well as he knew how to suck on a nipple or teat. It's something we haven't taught him and, as spoons are an invention, must be a genetic mutation now inbuilt into the human genome – or perhaps it's just that we shoved something with food on directly in front of his mouth. Anyway, after a couple of mouthfuls with a measure of unsure frowning, George decided he quite liked this new development on the eating front – mummy and daddy's unsure frowns were concentrated on the fact that feeding times look to be a far more messy affair in future.

With this latest development comes the need for a food processor – not a need as such, but certainly time and effort saving – and it seems that with every passing day, just as George is learning something new, mummy and daddy are learning that they need something new too.

The realisation that our car is just too small means more expense on the horizon. Supermarket shopping and a pushchair thingy will not fit, and after a midweek break – when more luggage belonged to George than four adults – something will have to change if there are to be any holidays in the future.

So, recently, mummy and daddy have been making a mental note of all the cars that might meet their requirements – mummy points out a shiny Audi A4 estate, daddy points out a sleek Jag X-type estate, mummy notices a fashionable Volvo V50 estate and then daddy spots the perfect solution – a Transit van.

Taking the plunge

George has been on his holidays this week – and he's had experiences of enough things to keep him over-stimulated for weeks.

His first time in a swimming pool was a bit of a test to see if booking him in for baby swimming classes would be money well spent. Even though the pool wasn't particularly cold it was cool enough to make daddy hold his breath as the water got to about waist level (a no-diving rule meant daddy entered the pool in a far more gingerly manner) – George, however, with his special nappies and wetsuit, found the whole thing quite enlightening and didn't even flinch as daddy gently lowered him into the water. A resounding success that left us all wondering whether we should head down to the bookies and place bets on him becoming the next David Wilkie, Duncan Goodhew or Adrian Moorhouse.

Along with a dip in the pool, George seemed to take everything else in his stride and behaved impeccably throughout. His first outing on an evening meal – even though he wasn't doing any eating – went so well that the people on the next table didn't even realise we'd had a baby with us until it came time for us to leave and we wheeled the pushchair thingy from where we'd been sitting.

George was unfazed by his first go on a swing and also didn't seem overly impressed at the sight of the sea. All these things will come and it will probably be more interesting to revisit the experiences when George has started talking and he can tell us what he's thinking – apparently when daddy first saw the sea he said "look... big bath!"

And just as we were lucky enough to pick a week of good weather for our break, we were also lucky enough to enjoy a day of sunshine for a barbecue when George's mates (and their parents) from the ante-natal classes popped round for a catch-up and a bite to eat. George lined up with his gang members for a photo – from the left we have Babyface Sam, Babyface Noah, Babyface George and Babyface Ellis.