Noah, you "Spilled your tummy."

A couple of days ago, you stayed with Grandma and Grandad for the day after spending several days requesting to go round there. When we picked you up, you were very quiet, very affectionate, very calm and very hot. We've been here before. You had a bit of a virus.

We swung by Tesco on the way home to pick up ibuprofen and paracetamol. Sadly, there were no own brands available so we had to pay Calpol prices. Bummer.

After getting home, we plied you with as much water as we could make you drink, gave you all the medicine we could without killing you and put you to bed.

I checked on you in the night and you were okay. Hot but okay.

By the morning, I went in to check on you and there was loads and loads of sick in your bed. It looked like someone had emptied loads of cans of refried beans onto your pillow. When I picked you up, you said, "Daddy, I spilled my tummy on my bed. I made lots of mess. I'm sorry, daddy. Can you wipe it up for me?" I was too busy laughing to answer you for a little while.

A little while later, we were trying to get you to re-tell the story to McGrandma. You said, "I put food in my tummy and then I put it in my bed."

Football with James and Matthew

A couple of weeks ago, you met your uncle Andrew, Auntie Kirsty and your cousins, Annie, James and Matthew. You took a particular shine to James and Matthew, particularly during a game of football you and I had against the two of them.

Now, this was your first competitive game and your skills were, sadly, lacking in abundance. I think you will be much better at rugby. I used this to our advantage and just asked you to block either Matthew or James - whoever did not have the ball.

We still lost.

But blimey did we have a good time of it!

Great grandma and grandad

Your great grandma and grandad are utterly blown away by the both of you. Scout, you really haven't done anything yet but sleep so you don't really count at this stage. But Noah! Your grandad always says, "I've never met such an affectionate kiddy in all my life!"

He means it, too.

And my god do you get spoiled when we go round there.

When we went over last week, your grandma showed us the blackbird that they have who comes right up to them and eats worms. You were so spellbound by it, you wouldn't shut up!

Scout

Look at you, Scout!

All perfect and beautiful , I will be the first to admit.

But today, in the bath with me and Noah (you are currently just less than 4 weeks old) you did endless poos. You just kept doing them.

In the bath.

Bright yellow baby poos.

I equated it to when a cat, because it loves you, brings home a half-dead rat. You don't want it, but it's all the cat can give you.

All you can currently give bright yellow shit.

Thanks.

Noah and Scout

Look at the both of you. Fuck off! Piss off! Just look at the two of you. Are you fucking kidding me or what? Fuck off, right now! I mean it!

You two are so perfect.

Looking at stuff

Noah, you have developed a crazy sixth sense for spotting these green beetle things. You crouch down near them and spend the whole time resisting the urge to pick them up and put them in your pocket. Here is you failing to resist that urge:

The first visit from the McGees

Scout, within a couple of weeks of you being born, your grandma and grandad travelled nearly seven thousand miles from their lovely house in Bute to come and see you. Now, being as you are a brand new baby and, let's face it, utterly boring in many ways, Noah took the opportunity to make their visit all about him. He has done so well out of it. Grandad played Angry Birds with you for longer than any other human being's patience would normally allow them and just look at the size of that ice cream! You absolutely refused to relinquish it, even after it had all melted in the son and you were carrying what was essentially ice cream soup around Hinckley.

Your grandma and grandad treated us all to a meal at the Tiffin where Noah you ate nothing but a million popadoms and Scout you did nothing but sleep.

Brilliant.

Our perfect four

Your mummy and I are still trying to adapt to the idea of saying things like, "I am a mother of two," and "Where are the kids?" and all that. It seems all so grown up. All so much like something you say about someone else rather than us.

Nevertheless, here we are: a family of four!

Niall, Emily and Igglepiggle

Since you have been born, Scout, there have been lots of people coming over and telling us how lovely you are and how much you look like Noah did. It has been lovely. One such memorable visit was Niall and Emily. Now, Noah, you have something of a man crush on Niall. You are fascinated with him. It could be his height, it could be his Gerard Butler good looks or it could be because you dress identical, I don't know.

What I do know is Emily had made up the most mind-boggling box of wonderful foods to give us a break from cooking for a day or so and to fatten us up on insane cakes. We held a funeral for the box when it was finally empty: the food was that good!

On this night, you saw Iggle Piggle. For real,

Your face was a picture of confusion and delight.

Scout just slept.

The car seat

It's funny going through all the same things we did with Noah with you, Scout. I will say this now: don't take this personally, but we will not be taking anywhere near as many pictures of you as a baby as we did with Noah.

This comment may seem cruel and say something about how much more we love Noah than you. This is understandable, but not true. We are just everso slight less overwhelmed when you shit yourself or do something babies do. When Noah first did a poo, I'm sure we cracked the camera out.

Now, sorry, but your poos are old news.

Here is a beautiful early picture of you though, at a few hours old.

Poo on the loo

We are beginning potty training in earnest, given that paternity leave has finished but the summer holidays are looming. You are great at holding your wees and poos in until you get to the toilet on one condition: you are not wearing a nappy or anything else on your bottom half.

As soon as you wear pants, you wet or poo yourself.

Today when you said you wanted to do a poo on the toilet, we told you to go ahead. You then ran off and we heard you say, " I will do a poo in the toilet and I will make you proud."

Which made us proud anyway.

This looks like you in a dress, but it's not

Here are a couple of pictures of you, Scout. You look like Noah did, only in a dress.

It has been lovely putting you in different clothes. Different meaning "girls'" clothes, I mean.

Underneath is a picture of your fist bath.

A baby sister

A new person in the world, and she is the only person on this planet earth who is your baby sister. This will mean another change to your blog format. Quite a fundamental change actually. From this point forth, Noah, this blog is not only written for you, but for your baby sister too.

Of course, these facts don't matter. You still aren't making memories despite us having hilarious conversations with you every day. There is something utterly profound about that. If your mummy and I were both to be beheaded by terrorists or something tomorrow at Tesco, you will live your whole life without a single memory of us. Yet we have experienced so many wonderful things together!

Anyway, your baby sister.

What do we need to say? Well, you call her "My baby" and you look after her without any serious jealousy of any kind. You are being such a wonderful big brother so far. You know when she is hungry, you say, because she sticks her tongue out. You don't fully understand why she has a front bum instead of a willy. You look like a giant now compared to her although you are still our baby Noah.

The birth.

The birth went very well. But before the birth, here are a few pictures from the day before Scout was born. We went for a walk to try and force the baby out via gravity. Your mummy looks like she is wearing a comedy suit. She isn't: it's all her:

That night, the contractions started and your mummy's cervix began it's journey to dilate to 10cm (sorry Noah, these are details I am intentionally including to make you cringe.)

By 7am we were in the hospital. We were given a sweet suite and I soon got bored of waiting for the contractions to kick up a gear so I took some pictures (I had just got a new phone with a panoramic picture option:

I am biased, but how can your mummy look so utterly perfect, even at times like these?

The first official stage of labour is when the contractions are considered to be starting properly. This stage of the labour was near 3 hours long. The second stage - the pushing stage - was three minutes.

THREE MINUTES!

She was shouting, "TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT ME TO DO AND I'LL DO IT!"

I told her to push with everything she had.

She did.

Her voice turned into a that of a wounded army soldier. She screamed and pushed like when the strongest man in the world pulls a train. All neck vains and bulging eyes.

Then Scout was here.

You were no longer an only child. You were a big brother for the first time.

Of course, you knew none of this at the time because you were with grandma and grandad having the time of your life: being the centre of the universe.

Of course, there cannot be two centres of the universe. That space has to be shared.

Luckily, you have been accommodating and warm in the sharing of your space. You pulled up a chair for "your baby Scout" as you call her.

And all of our lives are once again changed forever.

Pictures to follow.