It's a tough job

I’ve just had my first official ‘bad day’ with Harry. Nothing terrible happened but, for the first time, I’ve experienced the sort of day that leaves Melissa looking shell-shocked when I get home from work.

Up to now, whenever I’ve looked after Harry he’s behaved like a little angel – sleeping when he’s supposed to, eating when he’s supposed to, and generally allowing me to look after him while getting on with one or two jobs around the house.

Last Saturday, however, Harry gave me some first-hand experience of what makes him such a handful at times. It started well enough. He woke about half six and ate his breakfast as usual.

We then played for an hour and, up to the point Melissa left at about eight o’clock, it was a case of so far, so good. Then the fun started.

I was expecting Harry to settle down for a sleep about half nine and put Noddy on television to encourage him to sit down quietly. My plan was to let him have a sleep, then take him to visit my grandad and my nan. No chance.

To begin with my strategy looked promising but, by ten o’clock, he was still wide awake. An hour and a half later, after a manic morning of chasing round the house, I decided to give him lunch. This was, to be blunt, a disaster and there were soon peas, mashed potato and fish fingers flying around the kitchen. By the time I’d managed to get him to eat something, Harry was practically asleep in his high chair.

Thankfully, he did go down in his cot for a couple of hours, but I was so shattered by this point I abandoned all thoughts of housework and had some lunch instead. I even considered having a quick nap myself; I felt like I needed it.

Eventually we did manage to go visiting and Harry settled down for the rest of the day. However, I now understand that all plans are subject to Harry’s whims.

Of course, he was fast asleep by the time Melissa got home about half seven. Something tells me she was rather pleased I’d had a tough day.