midwife's muse

Bestest Boy

I know that this is a fiercely contested title but I will defend the bestowing of it to the hilt, this week. The receipient of this favouritism goes to - my Grandson Jack (no surprises there then). The reason he is awarded this superlative is due to his stoic behaviour on Sunday. His Mummy and Daddy went off to the Bike racing on Sunday and left my little hero with his doting Grandparents (me and Hubby). Daughter had been unable to express any milk so we were left with cartons of formula, these were new to Jack, and also some pureed carrots. Leaving baby and his rations off they went, at 9am. All went really well, eldest daughter and son came round to check up on us oldies and cuddle their nephew, that kept him amused and not thinking of sustenance until 2pm. He then decided food might be a good idea, the bottle was rejected, his beaker followed suit, as did his Nanny's house beaker, a different teat in the bottle and cup-feeding. Having smelled the formula I was not surprised, there was nothing left for it than to go for a walk. Off we strode, pedometer clicking noisily, and two hours later we returned, Tottenham v Chelsea and the Ryder Cup called! Once home we went throu7gh the whole rigmarole again, still no go. I warmed up the carrots, the grimaces revealed Grandsons total abhorrence of that particular delicacy, surprise! surprise! Nanny had a secret weapon though, baby porridge, mix with water not milk. Yes, it was acceptable to Jacks palate and he took 1 tablespoon. Into the bath, loads of chuckles and an inclination to drink the bath water and it was 7.30pm. Daughter had said that they would phone as they left Donnington, a 2 hour ride away, we had heard nothing. Jack was beginning to show his disapproval regarding the lack of milk. The worst thing was not the crying, but when he turned tear-filled eyes towards me and seemed to be pleading with me to do something. My brain was whirring frantically trying to find an answer, I was just doing up the last popper on his babygro when I heard the most wonderful sound, a motorbike roaring down the road and turning into the drive. Jack looked at me and smiled and I gave him the biggest hug ever. Daughter was hardly through the back door before Jack was thrust into her arms with the plea 'feed him, please'. During this 11 hour visit to Nanny's Jack had less than 2ozs of milk and 1 tablespoon of porridge, he cried, in total, for about 30 minutes. For this wonderous display of tolerant behaviour I believe that he really is 'THE BESTEST BOY'. 

20.9.04 23:19