The Grisly Dribbly Truth

As a proud father, I’m unashamed about the generally hagiographic tone of my blog posts about the Little Monkey. But I feel the need to balance out his up-coming ├╝ber-cute Christmas pictures; plus I don’t want it to seem like parenthood is one long chuckle-filled, gleeful picnic (else how will he appreciate our hard work when he reads this blog in the future?) Toby is mostly a delight, but gosh is he loud; Mrs. Monkeyshines was on a rare night out recently, leaving me at home to hold the baby. And the grumpy little chap created such a fuss when I couldn’t get him to sleep that my ears were literally ringing. And I know that dribbling is to be expected (especially when teething), but really, sometimes he seems to be trying to perfect an (increasingly accurate) impression of Victoria Falls. The following photo was taken just before bathtime, having removed a sodden bib 10 minutes previously, and not having a replacement bib, as he’d soaked half a dozen of them throughout the day. Fatherhood must have a strange effect on your brain, though, because I still think he looks like a little sweetheart.

Cute, even when he's a mess

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