Dad not daddy

THERE have been two fairly major developments in recent days. The first was not exactly unexpected but was certainly welcome: James sleeping through the night for the first time.

It was not exactly a lie-in (5.30am) but having six hours of uninterrupted sleep was such a treat I felt like doing a little jig of celebration

To put things in perspective, James has been a very good baby at night from the start. Until last week he was feeding once in the night (usually about 4am) but almost without exception he would go back to sleep within the hour, with a minimum of fuss. The following day, it was 5am and that has been the pattern ever since. In an ideal world, I'd like him to sleep until 7 but for the time being and, given that he's only 13 weeks old, I'll settle for 5.

All of this is in stark contrast to our experience with Harry; I can remember pacing around the house with him in the early hours of the morning, desperately trying to settle him after a feed. The thought of having six hours uninterrupted sleep was a distant dream!

The other major development has been that Harry has, quite unexpectedly, started calling me 'dad' rather than 'daddy'. While this may seem a fairly insignificant change, I have found it a bit of a shock, not least because it makes Harry sound so much more grown up. It has also made me feel a bit long in the tooth.

I first noticed it while we were on holiday and I thought it was just a freak occurrence. However, it's continued ever since.

I'm still not used to it which means I'll often ignore Harry's demands for my attention. This is fine in the house, but a bit embarrassing when we're out and about and to the rest of the world it just looks like I'm ignoring my son.

Interestingly, he still calls Melissa 'mummy' rather than 'mum'. When that changes we'll know he's definitely a little boy rather than our baby.

Harry down the mine

We've just returned from a week's stay in a caravan at the Haven site in Pwllheli.

Although the weather forecast was bleak, we somehow managed to avoid most of the rain which meant we weren't stuck indoors all week. Harry in particular had a fantastic time and literally ran himself into the ground every day.

A combination of playing on the beach, running around the adventure playground and swimming left him flat out by half six every evening. We didn't see him again until half six the following morning when he would spring out of bed ready to do it all again.

On the Wednesday, we woke to a serious thunderstorm (so serious you could feel the caravan shake every time it thundered) so I took Harry to Blaenau Ffestiniog for a trip down Llechwedd Slate Caverns.

To be honest, that trip was as much for me as it was for Harry – I remember going there when I was younger and being amazed at the size of those underground chambers.

Initially, Harry was impressed. Then, about half way through our first tour, Harry needed the toilet. While the guide related the story of the mines, I tried in vain to stop Harry shouting “I need a wee” at the top of his voice. It got to the point where he was actually hopping from one leg to the other because he was so desperate. Anyway, he managed to hold on and, undeterred, I pressed on with a second tour, this time down the deep mine.

At first I thought this was a terrible mistake. We had only just stepped off the train when Harry said he wanted his mummy. However, he soon forgot about his mum when he realised he could explore the tunnels instead.

I think Harry enjoyed himself and I certainly did, even if there were a couple of fraught moments. And whether Harry likes it or not, I've got plenty more trips like that one lined up already.

A good imagination

Harry certainly has a vivid imagination. This has become increasingly obvious as he's grown up.

When he's playing by himself, you can hear him chattering away, making up stories about what's happening. When he's playing with his trains, for instance, you will often hear him repeating elements of stories about Thomas the Tank that we have read to him. I find the whole thing fascinating and I'm constantly surprised at how much he remembers.

At other times, his imagination can be a little bit difficult to keep up with. For a while, he was constantly talking about his friend John. Apparently, this friend has silver hair, silver eyes and lives in Wrexham. If you see anyone matching that description, can you let me know as Harry tells me he's building a conservatory for him.

Harry's also fond of taking the clothes airers off the radiators and pushing them around the house, pretending that they're lawn mowers. Not only does this play havoc with the carpet, it can also be extremely painful if Harry catches your ankles.

After one such incident, I asked Harry why he was playing with the clothes airers. “It's my lawn mower daddy,” he replied. “But it's not a lawn mower, it's a clothes airer,” I pointed out a bit sharply rubbing a bruised ankle.

“Don't be silly,” he replied in a manner that suggested he was speaking to, well, a three-year-old. “It's only a pretend lawn mower daddy.”

Looking after himself

James will certainly grow up knowing how look after himself after sharing a house with Harry.

On the whole, Harry is quite good with James and generally doesn't do anything too cruel.

However, he can be a little heavy-handed so what should be a gentle stroke of the arm can suddenly turn into something altogether more, well, violent.

Harry is also fascinated with James' hair. Now James, like Harry, takes after me and isn't blessed with a lot of hair. However, the bit he does have tends to stick up like some kind of whispy mohican. This is just too tempting for Harry, who tries to grab it at every opportunity.

On top of this, Harry has taken to shouting or singing as loudly as he can whenever James is sleeping. This is very frustrating when you've just spent an hour trying to get James to settle.

Harry knows exactly what he is doing. Sometimes he will walk into a room and shout 'bang' just to wake James up.

But while looking after James and Harry can sometimes feel a bit like being a referee, it's not all bad. In fact, watching James smile and wave his arms and feet frantically when he spots Harry is wonderful.

Equally, listening to Harry call James 'darling' makes you want to scoop him up and cuddle him.

Having grown up with a younger brother (not to mention an older and a younger sister) I can confidently predict that James' reaction to Harry will not always be so positive.

How is he sleeping?

WHENEVER people ask about James, one of the first questions is invariably 'how is he sleeping?'

The answer is pretty well actually. At the moment he's still waking for a feed in the night but as he's only eight weeks old, that's only to be expected. Either way, it's a significant contrast to our experience with Harry.

I must admit that I've got a lot to answer for in this regard. With Harry, I wouldn't put him back in his cot until he was fast asleep. With hindsight, I was just making problems for myself as it got to the stage where he would start crying as soon as I attempted to put him down.

With James, I'm quite happy putting him back in his cot as soon as he's finished his feed, allowing him to go to sleep on his own. This means we've had, relatively speaking, a decent amount of sleep despite having a newborn in the house.

Last week, however, was a bit more testing as James picked up a chest infection while Harry also developed a cough and cold. James, surprisingly, continued to sleep well but Harry was disturbed by his cough. A couple of times I woke to feed James only to find Harry had climbed into bed between Melissa and myself – and was snoring loudly.

On one occasion, Melissa even sneaked out of our bed and into Harry's. Apparently a combination of Harry snoring, James coughing and a general lack of space was too much for her. Next time it's my turn to escape.

Mission impossible...

If leaving the house with one child was difficult, leaving it with two can feel like mission impossible.

Weekdays are particularly challenging; as well as getting myself ready for work, we have to get Harry and James bathed and dressed so that Harry can go to playgroup. Melissa, of course, also has to find time to make herself presentable to drop Harry off at playgroup.

To anyone without children, this probably doesn't sound like a difficult task. After all, how tough can it be to give two children a wash and get them dressed by eight o'clock in the morning? The answer, at least in our house, is very tough.

For a start, Harry can be a little monkey when you want him to get dressed in a hurry. I dread to think how long I spend during the course of a week trying to persuade, coax or bribe Harry into getting ready. I'm convinced he does it just to make us cross.

Some days, this alone can take half an hour which throws out our timings altogether. And if he doesn't want to get in the bath, you can write off another 15 minutes of your life.

Melissa's solution to the problem is simple: set the alarm earlier than its current time of half six. While this does sound very sensible, my views on the subject are quite clear: we need every minute of sleep possible. I would rather rush around like a headless chicken for an hour and a half than sacrifice one more moment of sleep.

So the rush to leave the house will continue. I'd like to think it will get easier as the boys grow up, but our experience with Harry tells me that won't be happening any time soon.

Everything changes...

JAMES is changing so quickly at the moment that it's difficult to keep up with it all. He now spends a good portion of the day awake, watching what goes on with those incredibly bright eyes that only babies seem to have.

He's also smiling now, which is just as magical this time around as it was when Harry was little.

Honestly, I could sit and watch James for hours. Every expression, yawn, sneeze, gurgle and squeak is just wonderful. The way he kicks his legs and throws out his arms when he's sat in his little baby seat is just as absorbing.

It's brought back great memories from Harry's first few weeks, when I just used to sit staring at him in wonder. The fact that James, to my eyes at least, looks almost identical to Harry at the same age, means that I'm constantly struck by a sense of deja vu.

Of course, with Harry in the house we don't really get an opportunity to sit around and watch James. Not that you miss it, because Harry is such a character.

The other night, he'd had spaghetti hoops with his tea and had spilt a bit of tomato sauce on his chin. Half an hour later, Harry and I were sat in the living room watching television when Harry started scratching at the now dry tomato sauce on his chin.

He looked at me and, with a very serious look on his face, said: “Daddy, I think I need to have a shave. My whiskers are growing.”