This week has been great. It has been half term for me, which means you get to spend more of your waking time with your daddy. We played football in the garden loads; in the minute or two I gave you between nappies, you managed to poo on the floor again. Be not ashamed, young man. It was much more solid than last time so I could practically pick it up bare handed and near enough get away with it. I didn't, thought. I used a tissue. My favourite bit is the warm and weight in the palm of your hand as you carry it to the toilet.
I'm sorry that so many of these blogs revolve around your toilet habits, Noah. It's just that pooing is something you could, at times, win an Olympic medal in.
I thought I'd send mummy a picture whilst she was at work. We did that embarrassing thing where you pose for a picture, but in real life you forget that the camera is set to video. Hilarity (pure, unadulterated hilarity) always ensues.
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