A day before her half-year birthday, la petite met her old friend Monsieur le pédiatre for a six-month checkup. Result: nearly 5kg heavier, 15cm taller than her first day at home. Diagnosis: "elle est magnifique!"; high time she started eating some real food.
And so, the next day papa got to give his litle angel her first spoonful or two (mama reluctantly at work). Reaction: puzzlement ('why is the old man trying to stick something other than a teat in my mouth, when he normally stops me from doing it?'), followed by uncertain testing of the strange substance (pureed carrot). I think a little of it went down her gullet. Over the next few days, two spoonfuls became several, several became many, and many more ended up all over her bib, her face, her hair, her hands, her clothes, the high chair, and of course mum & dad. Messy business, especially when the raspberry blowing receives full treatment.
She soon got to show off her new skills to visitors. The UKC connection, Ealing branch, were in town for a long weekend - work and baby viewing purposes, respectively and combined. They arrived late Thursday evening, and the next morning Dr N and la bienheureuse went off to their respective work, leaving Dr C to enjoy some time with old dad and baby. Which she did after doing a bit of work remote from Whitehall. No real rest for these high-powered civil servants. By afternoon however, both visitors had finished working, and la bienheureuse met us all at the end of our habitual late afternoon stroll along the river for a slow drink on a boat café.
The rest of the weekend followed a similar pattern: morning lie-ins for those that could, morning naps for those that wished or didn't wish, and lazy strolls out in the afternoon, which provided a surprise source of great entertainment for la petite - flapping flags on the bridge. Highly exciting stuff to a six month old, apparently. In the evening, NB gestured towards an upcoming half-marathon by punishing himself with early evening jogging up and down the river while dinner was cooking and baby was being put to bed. Saturday blurred into Sunday, and all too soon it was Monday morning and our visitors were on their way home.
They were followed to the airport two days later by a reluctant business traveller heading towards the company mother country. Dad and baby were thus left to cope on their own for a day, which they managed in their usual fashion. I even had time to sort out dive kit for the forthcoming holiday before notre bien-aimée was home on Thursday evening. More late packing late the following evening and by Saturday morning we were more or less ready for the drive south towards sea and sunshine...
