MoBlog

You be the judge.

Finally, he’s off and running. Morrison sure took his sweet time and it was bliss! Now, nothing is safe from sticky, grabby fingers. He’s also very good at stairs. But that’s a story for another day.

lotsa love,

Mo’s Spotter xx

Quiet + small boy = trouble of some sort.

Luckily, i needed a tissue. Bingo! Someone was there to help.

The cheeky minx is going from strength to strength. He CAN walk, he just THINKS he needs to hang on to something, which is fine by us – whatever will keep him from destroying all those things which ARE in arms reach, if you’re standing. He’s got plenty of time to discover his true destructive potential.

Mo’s Mum xx

Wind up legs and no end of energy. The boy’s bionic.

Go Morrison, Go!

Mumma xo

It’s a boy! It’s a big loud boy!

2 days old, with Ox

1 year old, with Ox

You’ve cemented your position as Best Replacement Baby Ever, with ease. You’ve completed our little family.

Happy birthday Morrison Flynn. We couldn’t love you more if you were stuffed with money, a new job or a biiiig firetruck. We love you!

Lots of love,

Mumma, DadDad and Spike xxooxx

Morrison and Ox, 11 months.

I did it myyyyyyyyy waaaaaaaaaaay!

That will be his anthem. Crawling, in the traditional sense has been replaced by much more hilarious side bum scoot-crawl method. Much like his mother did! Fast? You betcha sweet breakable things within arms reach he is!

Everyone comments, what a happy, content little boy. And, they’d be right. He is. Happy. Content. Why wouldn’t he be? His every whim is catered to, every day! I’d be friggen happy and content too! In fact, let’s try it. I’ll wait…

STATS

Cruising the 11kg (22lbs) mark and stretching out to around 76cm (30″) tall.  Still perusing the adult section at the milliners and getting towards that end for shoes.  Can we say, ‘clod hopppers’? Mo’s finally growing those curls his brother brandishes so wildly and his hair IS lightening up a smidge. He’s got too many teeth to count so just be warned, don’t put yer fingers in his mouth to retrieve your car keys. And because he won’t crawl, in the conventional sense he does spend a  lot of time landing on each side of his massive forehead as he takes a fast corner. It seems he is permanently sporting two bruises, either side of his face in various stages of grey/yellow/black. It’s quite festive!

And just cause I love it, here’s a pic of Mo being held by Papa. Rumour has it, they are the same species!

Here’s his brothers page, at the same age. Mo weighs more but they’re about the same height. Spike was more mobile but Mo is louder! And as you can see, both so cute as to relegate any other children to the retarded lumps category. I know it may seem unfair (to other retarded lumps) but I’m just here to report the facts, Ma’am.

Now that big brother, Spike goes to kinder two mornings a week, Mo and I get some alone time. It’s so much fun – especially if I can get him down to nap – just me and the mini demolition derby in a nappy. I could smooosh his perfect, round face into a million pieces.

He still loves Ox (seen above) and is sure to gnaw Mr Cullen’s (giraffe – his only two eyed toy!) antlers off, any day now.  Stanhope (his myopic, three ‘legged’ mini ugly doll) also gets a good sucking.  He loves anything that makes a noise and is adept at making anything, make noise.  I reckon he could raise a din with a bag of cotton balls.

This be his latest trick. Overnight he’s decided he loves to stand up and move.  It wont be long… won’t be long til I can send him to the shops to buy me a bottle or two of wine.  You’ll see. (and yes, his father called him, “Spike”. We ALL call him Spike at least once a day.)

Mo’s Mumma xxxo