When I finally got to Scotland, one of the first things I wanted to do was to meet Indigo's five and a half month old baby boy. Indigo, my best friend from university, gave birth at the end of April and I just missed meeting the wee one by a month and a half (the last time I'd been home was early March) and so after all those months of insisting Indigo send me photo after photo, I finally got to meet him for the first time. And I fell head over heels in love.
It's funny to think that one of my friends has actually got one of these things. Seeing Indigo with her son and watching how she glowed with pride and love for him was one of those moments where the fact that you're not a child anymore just hits you. Bam! Just like that. Almost as though you've been walking through the transition between childhood and adulthood with your eyes shut and one day open them to find that you're not 12 anymore, you're all grown up.
I played with him, I tickled him, I made stupid faces at him and spoke to him in that high-pitched coochy-coochy-coo voice reserved only for babies ears. (As a side-note, isn't it funny that when there's a baby around, people get away with doing the silliest faces and voices and blowing raspberries and making fart sounds and such? You would never get away with doing those sorts of things to an adult, would you? I love it!) I couldn't get enough of his cuteness, even when he started making funny noises and put on an "I'm doing a poo right now" face, I still loved him. The little scamp!
Even though at times he just kind of looked at me as though he was thinking "who the hell are you and what am I doing sitting on your lap?!"
Babies. You gotta love them.