I'm not joking. D is being clingier than a piece of clingy cling film clinging to a Kling on. I just don't know what's going on...
He's always been the cuddly sort, you know, the sort of baby who likes to return to mummy for a reassuring pat, before racing off to play again. But Friday, this all changed. Peaceful, cuddly D transformed, Superman style into 'Clinger-Baby'. I literally couldn't move without finding D desperately wrapped round my ankle, clasping on for dear life, gazing at me with desperate, imploring eyes. And that was just when I was getting up to stretch my legs.
Every minute (and that is no word of exageration) I had to deliver a comforting cuddle to poor, anxious little D, otherwise an alarming barrage of frightened squarking would ensue. We would then have to rock back and forth for a bit, until the yowling became gentle little whimpers. Then, woe betide if I attempted to gently place him back on the floor...the screaming and desperate little limbs would start flailing around again, frantically trying to clutch my person once more.
Food, likewise, went right out of the window. Actually, it nearly literally went out of the window at one point, he threw it that far. It just missed, and rolled into the sink instead. It's left a nice little smurgey red mark on the wall behind the tap actually, which is still there, I've not actually managed to disentangle myself from D long enough to clean it up yet.
D has always been a fairly fussy chap with his food, but now, he has gone, as Madness would put it, One Step Beyond. Now, nothing will pass his tightly clamped pursed up lips, unless it is sweet. Fruit makes the grade, as does yoghurt. That is about it. Even the usual favourite, the big, fortifying bowl of pasta, is being spurned vigorously.
This mad behaviour continued right through the weekend, though a trip to the Oceanarium in Bournemouth (with D in the carrier as he didn't want to be parted physically from his parents for even one second) seemed to help a bit. D was momentarily distracted from his anxious seperation terrors by the sight of a few black tipped reef sharks and spotty eels.
And still continues today! Though I did manage to encourage a breadstick into D's mouth, which was a step in the savory direction. I never thought I'd see the day where I was elated to be able to get D to eat a breadstick. It wasn't even a full sized one. It was a mini 'party' sized one. Hmm.
See, these are the things that no one prepares you for when you are a parent. Yeah, you can buy books, endless weighty tomes that tell you stuff like what to do if the offspring chokes, or how to do up a nappy, but they just don't dole out advice for 'what to do when your child won't actually let go of you, and won't eat anything that doesn't taste fruity.'
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