Look out here we come

Just when you're noticing motherhood is a whole lot of lather-rinse-repeat, the baby sprays Gerber pears in your eye and you think, "Well, that's something different."

Kickbaby has just turned six months old, and it's like a little milestone alarm has gone off in his head. First tooth: check. Sitting up unassisted for long periods: check. Wanting solid foods: check. Making valiant efforts to crawl: check.

Yesterday I sat him on his duckie blanket in the toy room and stepped around the corner to unload the dishwasher. When I checked on him a minute later he was on the other side of the room, lying on his tummy and playing with Berry's musical Dora van, calm as you please.

I missed it that time, but I've seen his vigorous commando-style floor scooting several times since. He's very efficient with it, which means (alas! alack!) I'll have to keep a much closer eye on him from now on. And, like, pick small stuff up off the floor.

At his six-month well baby appointment today he weighed 21lbs 4oz (9.65kg; 95th percentile) and he measured 28in long (71.25cm; 95th percentile) and he tore all the paper off the examining table in a delighted frenzy of crinkling. He loves paper, and his spoilsport mother never lets him play with it. Something about a choking hazard.

Oh, and his head measures 18.5in (a whopping 47cm, and way off the top of the chart). That point of interest is for Jules and Mark, two boys with "good-sized heads", as my Nanna liked to say. Kickbaby has a very good-sized head.

He talks now, too. His favourite (well, only) words are "Ba! Ba!" and "Dada". The latter, of course, is to thank Nathan for the endless hours he spends pacing the floor with Kickbaby in the middle of the night.

*Cough*

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