At 2am, Evelyn had a big seizure. I poked her cheek, changed her position, shook her hands and finally settled in waiting for it to pass, listening to her breathing change. Normally, middle of the night seizures end with Evelyn needing resettling and then falling back asleep. Not last night though, as she came out of it, realised I was watching her and decided that it was time to play.
First, she needed to examine my ears. I’m not sure what she thought the things stuck to the side of my head were previously, but last night they were the most interesting things ever. Then she bit each of my fingers in turn, presumably to make sure they were all made of flesh. She flipped and spun, bit my nipple – a new trick, turned herself into a baby hat draped around my head, and finally, FINALLY, fell back asleep after blowing raspberries all over my hair.
I am not at my finest at 2am, let alone 2am on a day that has included having the flu, but I had to laugh at the glee on Evelyn’s face when she clambered all over me.
Babies are nice, and Evelyn is the nicest baby of all. She mostly smells good, she’s very snuggly and we’re working on blunting her teeth with rusks so that cannibalism doesn’t become a life choice.
Evelyn has learned to commando crawl and she is very fast. She chases Amy down to her bedroom, giggling, before Amy carries her back out to me, flopped in her arms. Amy puts her on the floor and races off to resume her game and Evelyn chases her as fast as she can, before Amy drags her back to the living room. Repeat, ad infinitum.
She tried to fly the other day. I can’t say she’s very good at it, although I suspect she bounced when she flung herself off the edge of my bed after a nap. I hadn’t tidied my bedroom yet and she landed on an abandoned pile of pillows and a spare doona. Messiness has its upsides. The next day after her nap she shouted at me and I found her peering over the edge of the bed looking at the floor fearfully. I think I need to build a better pillow fort to stop her getting out of her cot.
Evelyn bites now. Often. Cheekily, she looks at me while she’s breastfeeding and CHOMP she goes, before she smiles at me prettily. I’ve tried explaining that milk tastes terrible when laced with blood, but so far, no luck. I’ve also tried shouting, cringing and grumpily putting her on the floor with no more breasts, but nothing works. The worst part is not actually being bitten, it’s waiting for the bite. It’s quite hard to relax when you’re waiting for a cannibalistic baby-toddler to nip you. She also tried biting my neck, so maybe she’s part vampire. I hear that’s a “thing” now, if Amy is to be believed.
She is amazing, and bright and bubbly and she makes me laugh every day – usually by trying to eat my face. She snuggles, and adores her siblings and causes untold chaos.
We wouldn’t have it any other way.
