Sam's 9 months now. That is 9 months when I have been slave to every whim his little heart desires. 3am in the morning wanting food? No problem. And again at 4.30am, why here you go young man (and at 5.30 and 6.45 as well whilst you are at it). Don't fancy being put down? Let me pick you up and have a bit of a cuddle. Want to move somewhere else, why hitch a lift on the Mummy hip machine. Is that a toy you want - here it is. Want a nap but can't quite work out how to get to sleep? Let Mummy rock you and walk you around until you work out how to do it.
It's been 9 lovely months, but 9 months of a lot of Mummy work. So when he extended his little pudgy arms and cooed adoringly, I waited with heightened anticpation for his first word. Sure enough, it arrived.
Man, the boy has got a long way to go in that most important life skill of learning to keep his mother sweet.