# Happy days at Jez central today, with lots and lots of smiley behaviour from the little chum. This afternoon he spent quite a long time sitting with me looking out the window into the garden, making little gurgling noises. I've no idea what he could see, but he was definitely enjoying himself. Later on, I took him along when I walked the dog - generally he falls asleep almost immediately when you put him in the sling, but he spent the first fifteen or twenty minutes looking out watching the world go by.

I know this all sounds like pretty doting-father small-beer, but one of the things nobody tells the expectant parent about babies (and you get told a hell of a lot) is that babies don't smile. Turns out they don't know how, and it takes a couple of months or so until they start to get the hang of it. I hadn't expected this at all - I'd been conditioned by baby books, NCT literature and (*sigh*) nappy adverts to expect a smiling, gurgling, even laughing baby from birth.

What you actually get is a baby who looks cross all the time. The best you get is mild displeasure, and most of the time you get very, verging on extreme, annoyance. It can be pretty dishearting, distressing even, which is why it's just damn top to get a smile.
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# The little chap is seven weeks old today. Most of the time, I'm really proud of him and enjoy doing baby stuff (feeding, changing, carrying around) with him, but sometimes he just tears me apart. Last night, for example, he woke up after being asleep on my shoulder for an hour or so and started grumbling. He was probably a bit hungry and had got a bit of a wet nappy, but it was nearly bed time so I bounced him around, talked to him and whatnot. He didn't want to settle, so I took him upstairs for a change and a bath. He knows the drill by now - change, bath, new nappy, sleepsuit on, feed, bed.

He wasn't having any of it - he went from grumbling to screaming.

Most of time, when you hear a baby crying, they're not really going for it. When they do, it's like they reach down inside and drag the screams up through the back of their throats and the sound explodes out of them. It chills me when he does this - I really hate it, it makes me feel sick and horrible.

So he's screaming now and thrashing around. He hates the bath, he hates being towelled down, he hates having a clean nappy. He just wants feeding. But the more he screams and waves his arms and legs, the longer it takes me and so the more he screams. I know he doesn't know what he's doing - I know he doesn't understand, but I just felt like grabbing his little face and screaming back at him. Right now, I could scream more loudly and more blood-chillingly than he ever could. If he'd just quieten for a moment, we'd be finished up in no time and he'd get his milk. Of course, he doesn't, and I don't.

But I did really want to.
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