Talking babies...

I’m now convinced that Harry has started talking to me.

It may not be in any recognisable language, but I’m sure that his gurgles, shouts, squeaks and squeals are his way of telling me something. What it is, I don’t know, but that’s really beside the point – we’re both quite happy squeaking at each other for hours on end.

And whatever it is he’s saying, Harry’s definitely become more vocal in recent weeks – or, as Melissa puts it, he’s found his voice. I first noticed it in the early hours of the morning a couple of weeks ago. Harry was wide awake and hungry but, instead of his usual sobbing and crying, he was shouting and squeaking, presumably to attract my attention.

Although it doesn’t sound a particularly significant development, I lay there feeling totally in awe of nature. My little boy was almost talking. It was certainly a refreshing change from crying. Goodness knows what I’ll be like when he manages to say something recognisable.

Speaking of which, now that Harry has found his voice, it goes without saying that Melissa and I are locked in battle over that all-important first word.

Whenever Melissa leaves the room, I look Harry in the eye and repeat ‘dad’ over and over again. I have to make up for lost time because I’m convinced that the moment I leave for work, Melissa sits in front of Harry repeating the word ‘mum’ until I return. That gives her five full days advantage over me every week so I’ve got my work cut out.

It’s a competition that will run and run. I’ll let you know who wins the race…