So we went on holiday to Fylingthorpe, just inland from Robin Hoods Bay, and stayed in a lovely cottage. Dom loved the birds (buh! buh! buh!), the baa-lambs (ba-bah!, ba-bah!), the bubbles (buh-bul! *shakes arms and head to burst them*), the sea (ooOOOooh!) but wasn't sure about the cliff-top walk in the baby-carrier (oooh no! oooh no! oooh no! all the way round like a demented Ruth Archer).
The beautiful Eloise Grace Bradbury was baptised at the same church as Dom and we did a repeat-run of the garden-party we threw for him, but with added sliding (1, 2, 3 - all 0.8mb .avi files), toddling, vehicular fun and with someone else picking up the bar tab. There was mocking as I put up gazebos in the mist but in the end we were huddled in their shade like John Stalker's dog.
Helen was very honoured to be the Godmother but that left me on inept crowd control in the back pew. Jilly's raisins, a little bit of smooching with Evie and 'Who's in the Jungle?' only carried us so far. Luckily, Webby managed to intercept the little man as he made break for the altar flowers.
A fortnight ago, Dom and Helen left me to my essay crisis (a sad state of affairs at 32) to take Jo and Luke up on their kind offer of hospitality. Dom loved the attention, the London Eye, his first meal (bought) in a restaurant and the seaside at Brighton.
