Life with wee Jamie has settled into a certain predictability. Sleep is irregular, although he makes it four hours at a stretch during the night. I was worried that he wasn't waking up enough, or he wasn't getting enough to eat, or that this was a Bad Thing, but the Fool wisely set me straight by telling me to count my blessings and go back to sleep. He eats, he makes messy diapers, he makes funny little bird noises and even funnier faces. He interferes with knitting in a big way.
Grandma Fool is visiting, which is a lot of fun. I'm hearing all sorts of stories about the Fool when he was a baby. Apparently, he never did anything wrong and was perfect in every regard. I think those hormones that help you forget the pain of childbirth run extra strong in his family.
In parting, Jamie says thank you for all the kind wishes and promises to be extra entertaining for blog fodder in the future. He also promises to pose for some more photos in hand knits soon.
Here he is disguised as a zucchini. Angus is still very puzzled as to what we've brought home. He keeps sniffing Jamie's toes cautiously and running off again.
(Grandma Fool is no fan of cats, and no fan of Angus either. The other night, Angus came trotting into the bedroom, fished his favorite toy out of the Fool's dresser, where we hide it, and set off purposefully for the living room, carrying it in his mouth, heading for Grandma. We had to grab him and tell him it just wasn't going to work; there was no way he could win friends and influence people in that arena. Poor cat. He seemed so hopeful that maybe, just maybe, she might want to play with him. )