Last night Mr Hugh woke about six times to feed. I said, look Mister, this is getting ridiculous, but he paid no heed. I tried to spoon baby rice and banana into him today, but he still looked puzzled and bemused and hasn't quite bought into the concept of food-swallowing yet.
I took him to view a flat (we are considering purchasing one in the longer term with the generous help of my parents). I felt patronised by the owner who talked me through the location of every plug socket and pulled out hefty maintenance and council tax bills while Hugh was wriggling in my arms in semi-irritation. The owner offered to hold 'the baby'. I said no thanks and then he started blowing slevery raspberries on Hugh's wee hands. I mean watery, noisy raspberries. Hugh tried to eat his finger. No, Hugh, refrain, my love, refrain!
The owner then told me about the offers they'd turned down and I decided instantly that I could take this no further and said so in polite language. He still insisted on showing me the back yard on the way out. He was wittering on about the recycle bins and I thought, didn't I just say no thanks? Do I need to get tougher?
-C
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