Nine months

Eoin is nine months old today. Well, technically he’s not nine months old until 4.46 in the afternoon, but let’s not split hairs.

In honour of the event, and in no particular order, here are nine of his favourite things:

  • Being held upside-down while I nibble his chin.
  • Fish fingers (only as a treat, mind you). He’s his father’s son, and no mistake: I can’t stand the little orange swines.
  • This song:

    Months after he first heard it, it still makes him stop whatever he’s doing and grin from ear to ear.
  • Moomins. In all forms from picture book to amigurumi (thanks, Polly!).
  • Other people’s food. If it’s on somebody else’s plate, it is automatically twice as delicious. Look out for little hands if you’re eating lunch at our house.
  • Watching rugby with his daddy. The battle of the red jersey versus the green is soon to begin (maybe I could pre-empt it by just buying him a Scotland one?).
  • On the Ning Nang Nong. We’re starting early with the poetry to balance out the inevitable science influence.
  • Chips. Oops: bad mammy…

Happy ¾ birthday, Eoinín: you’re the best little sausage a Mammy could hope for.

I can’t wait to see what the next nine months bring (*whispers* pleasetalkpleasetalkpleasetalk).

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