The magic of Christmas

I’ve always loved Christmas but now Harry’s on the scene, it’s better than ever. And despite the early start this year – Harry had us downstairs opening presents at half past six – there was something magical about Christmas morning.

Although Harry is a bit too young to understand what Christmas is all about, he definitely knew that something was going on.

We took him to the carol service at Chirk Methodist Church on Christmas Eve and he sat rapt while the vicar related the story of the Nativity. Harry sitting still for half an hour is quite remarkable in itself, and the occasion certainly added to the festive feeling in the Wright household.

On Christmas Day itself, Melissa dashed downstairs ahead of us and laid Harry’s presents out across the front room floor. His reaction when he walked in was brilliant. He kept shouting ‘wow’, before tearing into the wrapping paper, and shouting ‘wow’ again and again.

Then it was up to me to get the toys out of the packaging – which is easier said than done, especially with an eager toddler on your shoulder. One toy even had to be unscrewed from its packaging, which is surely taking security a bit too far.

Anyway, after half an hour or so, Harry had unwrapped all of his presents and, despite the array of new toys to play with, was only interested in one thing: unwrapping more Christmas presents.

By the time we’d visited the grandparents, Harry was exhausted. Needless to say he was fast asleep by half six in the evening, which at least gave Melissa and I the chance to catch our breath.

Of course, next year things will be different again and Harry will be even more excited. I can’t wait.

Painting

I’m a very proud man. I’ve just been given my first painting from Harry and it is now stuck proudly to my office wall.

I’m not sure what my colleagues make of my greeny-black splodge, and I’ll admit it is, how can I put this, a little bit abstract, but it means the world to me. It is sitting next to the half a dozen carefully selected pictures of Harry that – and I apologise in advance for sounding a bit soppy – bring a smile to my face whenever I’m at my desk.

Harry does love getting mucky and painting fits the bill perfectly. I tried it the other evening and after 15 minutes, Harry had paint all over his hands, face, arms and hair. The kitchen floor was also liberally splattered with paint.

Mind you, that was fairly tame compared to Melissa’s Christmas card making experiment. I only saw the aftermath, but there was glitter everywhere and, as I’ve now discovered, it’s incredibly difficult to get rid of.

Having said that, the cards looked good in the end and Harry’s obviously very proud of his handiwork. Whenever he spots one of the cards he helped make, he shouts ‘Harry’ and points excitedly at his chest.

Speaking of Christmas, Harry is still a little bit too young to understand what it’s all about but he does now recognise Santa. He also does impressions of him, saying ‘ho ho ho’ whenever he spots a Father Christmas.

But when he met Father Christmas on Llangollen Railway’s Santa Special, Harry suddenly went very shy. And when he was asked what he’d like for Christmas, Harry replied “ham”. It’s an unusual request, but I think Santa might be able to manage that one.

Sleeping

HARRY’S sleeping is a funny thing. When he first goes to bed at night, I swear you could put a brass band outside his room and he wouldn’t wake up.

But after about four in the morning, he’s awake at the slightest sound – including the creak of floorboards.
As you can imagine, this makes visiting the toilet in the night something of a challenge.
Sleeping in the day is another challenge altogether. Take last Sunday.

We decided to pop to Eagles Meadow in Wrexham to get the last of our Christmas shopping done and, much to our relief, Harry dropped off in his pushchair shortly after we arrived.

With Harry still fast asleep when we’d finished the shopping, we thought it best not to disturb him by putting him back in the car and decided to have some lunch instead.

The restaurant looked fairly quiet, so we wheeled Harry inside hoping to eat our lunch before he woke up.
Unfortunately, our table was right next to what has to be one of the noisiest coffee machines in the world. Whenever somebody ordered a hot drink, there was a bang, followed by a loud tapping and the sound of steam being released.

Every time this happened, Melissa or I would check Harry nervously, expecting him to wake up.
We had managed to eat our starter before it was all too much for him and he woke up, slightly dazed.

Of course, we then had to negotiate our main meals while keeping Harry entertained.
Fortunately – and perhaps surprisingly – we discovered that he quite liked the seafood sauce on my pasta; dipping pieces of bread in it kept him quiet just about long enough for us to finish our food.

It didn’t make for a particularly enjoyable meal, however, as Harry insisted on standing on the seat and shouting ‘ba-ba’ at baby on the table next to us.

Put it this way, I was left wondering whether it would have been easier to risk waking him by putting him in the car after all.

Let it snow...

Harry’s got a new favourite word: snow. With the wintry weather we’ve been enjoying (if that’s the right word), Harry’s had plenty of opportunity to see snow first hand and he loves it.

When it started snowing last Friday, Melissa said that Harry was absolutely fascinated, sitting in the window watching it until it was dark. He was still excited when I arrived home from work, running to greet me shouting ‘snow’ as I walked through the door.

But while watching the snow is one thing, letting Harry go outside to play in it is an altogether more complicated process, requiring wrapping him up in so many layers that he can hardly walk. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to mind; the only problem is that if he falls over, he can’t get himself upright again.

Of course I was all for taking him sledging but, as he’s had a bit of a cough lately, commonsense (or Melissa, more precisely) prevailed, so it looks like I’ll have to wait a bit longer.

Anyway, the cold weather has got Melissa feeling festive and Sunday saw us putting up the Christmas decorations. Harry was keen to help, but struggled to spot the difference between baubles and a football; Melissa wasn’t impressed as he kicked them around the living room. Apparently that was my fault.

Apart from the baubles, though, Harry was surprisingly gentle with the decorations. I say surprisingly because I was very concerned about mixing Harry with decorations – it’s not exactly a match made in heaven.

Harry is still – thankfully – a bit too young to understand what Christmas is all about so although he was certainly excited about the decorations, sleepless nights until December 25 shouldn’t be a problem.

Something tells me things will be very different this time next year, though.

Peppa Pig at 2am

Sickness, Peppa Pig, Calpol and a screaming toddler. That was the story of our Sunday night this week.

Melissa had put Harry to bed as I’d been at work so when I arrived home, I was expecting a relaxing evening. Melissa had even opened a bottle of wine but, alas, it wasn’t to be.

Harry was unusually restless and woke up several times crying. He was so upset in the end, that I went to his room and picked him up to comfort him. Ten seconds later, Harry had been sick all over my dressing gown.

I shouted Melissa who rushed upstairs to help. And Harry was immediately sick all over her too.

Thankfully, that was the end of the throwing up, but Harry didn’t drop off again until half eleven.

Unfortunately, he only slept for an hour before waking up crying. This time, there was no way he was going back to sleep. We soon discovered that the only way to stop him crying was to let him watch Peppa Pig.

There is something a bit bizarre about watching children’s television programmes at half past one in the morning, but we were so grateful that he’d calmed down we didn’t mind.

While he was calm, we took the opportunity to get some Calpol down him. Of course, Harry didn’t want to swallow any but, with Melissa holding him down, I managed to get some in his mouth.

The effect was dramatic – I swear that stuff is magic. Within half an hour, Harry was sleepy enough to get him back into bed – our bed this time. A few minutes later, both he and Melissa were flat out, leaving me wide awake unable to shake the Peppa Pig theme tune.

Being a parent is, as I’ve said time and time again, a wonderful experience; but it definitely has its challenging moments.

Swimming again...

I took Harry swimming on Sunday – the first time I’ve been for a couple of weeks – and was amazed at how much progress he’s made since starting lessons in September.

It sounds young – 21 months – to be having lessons, and I admit I was a bit sceptical at first. But having seen Harry on Sunday, I’ve no doubt that they’re extremely beneficial.

I took Harry to one of the lessons at Waterworld, Wrexham, a month or so ago, and it was an eye-opening experience. The half-hour sessions involve a teacher standing at the edge of the pool issuing instructions to the children and parents or guardians in the pool. There are plenty of activities, including jumping in, rolling in, dancing, singing, splashing, kicking and so on.

Now although the teacher was very friendly, she was also quite strict (as I’m sure she has to be) and I found myself on the end of a couple of sharp reprimands for not letting Harry’s head go under the water. As the teacher later explained to another cautious parent, if you show any fear, it’s only natural for the child to be scared too.

As I say, that was a few weeks ago and when I took Harry to the pool on Sunday, I was surprised at the change. He jumps in on his own, doesn’t mind his head going under water and – best of all – when he kicks hard enough, he is able to move around the pool on his own. It’s great to see him enjoying himself so much in the water.

In fact, the only downside with swimming is getting changed afterwards; keeping an adventurous toddler in the cubicle can be surprisingly tricky. However, Melissa has now developed a foolproof system to keep Harry still while she dries and dresses him – food, or crisps to be precise. After all that activity though, it’s no wonder he’s hungry – I know I am.

Hands off my CDs

I’ve just learned another valuable lesson: don’t leave Harry alone with anything you want to keep safe.

Now I know what you’re going to say: surely that stands to reason. You’d be right of course, but earlier this week I got complacent and paid the price.

The thing is, Harry’s determination to chew, tear and generally destroy everything has waned in recent weeks.

So when I left him watching Chuggington on my computer, I didn’t give a second thought to the fact that I’d left a CD within grabbing distance.

When I returned to check on him a minute or two later, the CD was back on the desk in front of the computer – in almost exactly the same place it had been originally. The only difference was the cardboard sleeve was now in several pieces.

Harry was smiling angelically at me and when I told him off, he just chuckled. It didn’t help that Melissa was stood behind me, also laughing. So while I was trying to explain to him why tearing daddy’s CD cases was not wrong, Melissa simply said: “You shouldn’t have left it there in the first place.”

She was right of course but that didn’t help. Anyway, Harry had obviously worked out I wasn’t best pleased, however, because he came up to me and cuddled my leg, saying ‘awww’.

Rather than saying sorry, though, I think this might have had more to do with trying to shut me up – Harry had obviously had enough of me talking about CD sleeves.

When I returned home later the same day I spotted our house phone in pieces, balanced on a radiator. When I asked Melissa what had happened, she sheepishly admitted Harry had managed to grab the phone and throw it in the bath. Obviously I wasn’t the only one being complacent that day.

Thomas and the sausage roll

Harry was 21 months old last week. On the one hand, it’s hard to believe it’s that long since I was pacing up and down the corridors of the Maelor waiting for Harry to arrive.

On the other hand, it’s difficult to remember what life was like without Harry. And one thing’s for sure, they have been the best 21 months of my life.

As I’ve said before, being a parent certainly encourages you to make the most of your weekends. The fine weather last Sunday saw us head to Llangollen to ride on Thomas the Tank Engine.

It was great watching Harry’s expression change when he recognised Thomas – it was the trigger for an afternoon of excitement as far as he was concerned.

When we first got on the train, Harry was so excited he wouldn’t sit still, climbing up to see out of the carriage one minute, before jumping down to explore the next, and all the while shouting Thomas or ‘choo choo’ at the top of his voice.

In fact, the only time he did sit still was when he was demolishing a sausage roll – and then only because I was practically holding him down in a vain attempt to limit the mess.

Put it this way, I now understand why my dad used to complain about us eating sausage rolls in the car when we were little.

When we arrived at Carrog, trying to keep hold of Harry was the biggest challenge as he charged up and down the platform waving his new Thomas flag. Thankfully, Melissa had remembered to put the reins in – and I was left in no doubt that they are an essential tool in the battle to hang on to adventurous toddlers.

But it was great fun – and I’m sure if Harry gets his way, we’ll be booking ourselves on to the Santa Special in December.

Nuisance phone calls

Harry has, from a very early age, had a thing about telephones. He loves playing with mobiles and, if he gets the chance, the house phone.

At my mum’s, Harry’s even been known to call people using the redial button (which flashes green). On one occasion, my sister thought she was the victim of a nuisance phone call; it turned out it was just Harry heavy breathing on the other end of the line.

Now he’s started to talk more, he’s even more determined to get hold of the phone.

Last week, Melissa called me while I was at work and Harry managed to wrestle the phone off her. Harry and I then had a conversation of sorts, with Harry chatting away on the other end of the line. I’m not sure what he was trying to tell me but he was very excited.

It struck me again how quickly Harry is growing up – there I was sat in work talking to my son on the phone. It was another one of those ‘pinch yourself’ moments.

What’s even more entertaining, though, is watching Harry talking to somebody else on the phone. Harry’s obviously been studying me using the phone because, like me, he doesn’t stand still for a minute, preferring instead to walk around the room chatting away and nodding his head intently like an old man.

The problem comes when you try and take the phone off him; he just doesn’t want to let it go. Sometimes, for a quiet life, I let him carry on talking – goodness knows what Melissa will say when the bill arrives.

Full time dad

I’m currently recovering after spending four full days looking after Harry on my own.

Melissa decided to get away for a couple of days with her mum and sister, leaving me in charge. Now I’ve done the odd day here and there, but never for that length of time so I was a little bit nervous.

I was also slightly concerned about Harry’s reaction. Although he’s not particularly clingy, I did wonder what effect his mum being away for four nights would have on him.

Thankfully, I needn’t have worried. Harry did say “Mummy, gone” a few times while shrugging and raising his hands, but that was about it.

My tactics were simple: tire him out as thoroughly as possible during the day so that he would sleep well at night. This seemed to work pretty effectively – although the fine weather helped – and I even found time to do a bit of housework just to prove to Melissa that I haven’t forgotten how to use the washing machine and iron.
I did get quite a bit of help along the way from my mum and nan, who were on hand to provide tea, cake, support and so on when I wanted some respite.

There were also a couple of minor disasters along the way. On the first evening, while I was wrestling with a zip that had got stuck on one of his coats, Harry managed to find a way through the gate at the bottom of the stairs and was half way up before I managed to grab him.

One another occasion, he managed to get hold of some of Melissa’s make-up and was in the process of colouring our bedroom carpet before I stopped him.

All in all, though, it went very smoothly even if it was tiring. On Sunday afternoon I took Harry to Ty Mawr for a walk. Half way round, Harry decided he wanted to go on my shoulders. It was a warm day and quite hard work. When we reached the car park, Harry wanted to go around again – which meant my shoulders took some more punishment. I’ll say this though, it was more enjoyable than going to the gym.

And the hardest part about the whole experience? Going to back to work.

Now Harry’s a bit older, playing with him is a lot more interesting. At the moment, one of his favourite activities is playing with large building blocks – a bit like giant Lego.

In recent weeks, Harry has learned how to put the blocks together and is now creating fairly complicated – and often quite tall – structures.

This isn’t without its hazards, though. I’ve lost count of the number of times Harry has built a tower only to push it over in my direction. He obviously thinks watching me scramble out of the way of falling blocks is entertaining. As I’ve said before, being a dad does nothing for your dignity.

Anyway, there was one particularly exciting moment last week. One evening while playing with Harry, I built an aeroplane (a very basic one, I should add) out of the blocks.

Harry thought this was great and was soon running around the room with the aeroplane making a ‘brrrrr’ noise.
The following morning, Melissa and I were sat having a cup of tea after breakfast while Harry was playing on the floor with the blocks and, much to my surprise and delight, he built his own aeroplane.

I was truly amazed, not to mention very proud, and spent the rest of the day battling with that ‘I want to tell everyone about my brilliant child’ syndrome that bores everybody else silly.

Since then I’ve been busy trying to encourage Harry to build giant castles as well as aeroplanes but he doesn’t seem to share my enthusiasm. Instead he wants to build aeroplanes and then fly them at my head. Melissa says it serves me right.

Christening fun

We took Harry to a christening last Sunday and what should have been a relatively calm experience turned into one of the most hectic half hours I’ve had in a long while.

Harry was pretty well behaved when the service got under way, largely because he was munching his way through a packet of Quavers – Melissa’s cunning plan to keep him quiet.

Unfortunately, the Quavers were soon demolished and, after spending five minutes trying to wrestle the hymn book out of my hand, Harry decided it was time to go for a wander.

Of course he had his reins on, so I was pulled along behind him. The vicar had said at the outset he didn’t mind children walking around during the service and had helpfully arranged an area complete with crayons, mini bouncy castle, toys and books.

That kept Harry occupied for all of ten minutes before he became destructive and started pulling all the books off the shelves.

While I was frantically trying to tidy up behind him, Harry seized the opportunity to escape and explore the church properly.

I’m not sure what the congregation made of me sprinting after Harry during communion – but I didn’t have any choice.

After managing to catch up with him, I finally found something that kept him quiet – the organ and organist.

So for the final ten minutes of the service, I had to stand next to the organ while Harry pointed and shouted with excitement every time a note was played.

Melissa found it all very funny – and I admit I was a bit flustered by the time the service finished. She doesn’t know it yet, but Melissa’s definitely on duty the next time we go to a christening.

Haircuts and swimming lessons

Last week was a momentous week for Harry (even if he doesn’t know it) – he had his first haircut and his first swimming lesson.

The haircut was, to be honest, long overdue. Although Harry doesn’t have a thick head of hair (he gets that off me), he’s been getting increasingly ‘tufty’ in recent weeks. Some days, his hair would stand on end all day, giving him the impression of being permanently terrified.

Melissa had cut it herself a couple of times to get the worst of it under control but things were nevertheless starting to get a bit out of hand.

Thankfully, that’s now a thing of the past.

Unfortunately I was in work so I couldn’t take him to the hairdressers but it all seemed to go surprisingly smoothly.

And having his hair cut has suddenly made Harry look a lot more grown up, which is a somehow a little bit sad – he’s no longer a baby, but a little boy.

Anyway, the way his hair’s growing he’ll need another haircut in a couple of weeks’ time so I’ll hopefully get the chance to take him.

The other first this week was his swimming lesson at Waterworld in Wrexham. I managed to pop along to watch it in my lunch hour, and spent the whole half-hour with a big grin on my face.

Watching Harry (and Melissa of course) performing the various exercises was fascinating. Best of all, though, Harry was obviously enjoying himself even if he was a bit reluctant to let the little rubber duck go when the teacher asked for it to be returned.

He behaved really well throughout the lesson though and I returned to work feeling ten foot tall.

Harry might be growing up but he still makes me feel like the proudest dad around.

Hungry ducks...

I’ve mentioned before that Harry has a good appetite. Although we went through an awkward stage just after Christmas when he had tonsillitis, getting him to eat a balanced diet has never really been a problem.

He’ll even eat his greens. The other day we went to a garden party and Harry, despite having already eaten lunch, wanted an egg and cress sandwich. However, before eating the sandwich he opened it up and started picking out the cress and munching away on it. Only when he’d finished all the cress did he eat the rest of the sandwich.

Harry has definitely got his mum’s sweet tooth, though. At the same garden party he demolished a chocolate brownie in seconds; milk chocolate buttons are also the most effective means of encouraging Harry to cooperate.

But I think Harry’s love of food might be going a bit too far. We took him to feed the ducks the other day but Harry spent most of the time eating the bread rather than throwing it to the ducks. Thank goodness I didn’t take stale bread.

To be fair to Harry, he did give some bread away but not until he’d eaten one and a half crusts. Honestly, sometimes his appetite amazes me.

When it comes to food, the most difficult aspect is trying to stay out of the firing line at meal times.

Harry is feeding himself most of the time now but it can get a little messy when he decides to whirl the spoon around his head. Believe me, it’s no good getting changed into smart clothes before feeding Harry – nine times out of ten you end up with debris all over you. As for the kitchen floor, it requires constant cleaning – I’m just grateful we’ve got tiles rather than carpet.

Talking time

Harry is starting to understand a lot more about speech and is now using words and sounds to communicate with us.

For instance, when he wakes up in a morning, he will ask for his juice; when he wants to watch his favourite television programme, Noddy, he will tell you.

Harry’s also good at following instructions (when he wants to, that is). If you ask him to pass you something, he will go and fetch it for you. Or if you ask him what sound a train makes, he makes a ‘toot toot’ noise.

According to my very limited research, the next six months will see his talking increase rapidly. One article I read said that between 18 months and two years, toddlers can learn up to 50 words a day, which means I’m going to have to start watching what I say.

As I’ve said before, Harry’s full of energy and he’s not afraid to explore his surroundings. The downside of all this activity, however, is that he does tend to get into a few bumps and scrapes – literally.

The other day, he tried to pick up a rather large picture frame that I’d carelessly left on our bedroom floor. Before I could grab him, he’d managed to scratch his eye, drawing blood and prompting an understandable crying fit.

But all this extra activity is having one desirable side-effect – he’s absolutely shattered by the end of the day.

Last week we broke a new record – Harry slept from quarter to seven at night until ten past eight the following morning. Even then, we had to wake him up because Melissa had to go to work.

And although sleeping until eight is still quite unusual, he’s certainly better than ever at night now. The knock-on effect is that Melissa and I are also sleeping much better – it’s remarkable how much sharper you feel having that extra hour and a half in bed.

I just hope I haven’t tempted fate.

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.

In training...

One of the great things about having children is that they stop you being lazy. On Sunday, I was having a cup of tea after breakfast and looking forward to a relaxing day at home when Melissa suddenly said ‘Why don’t we go to the beach?’

Twenty minutes later, we were all loaded up and heading to Fairbourne, near Barmouth. By 10am, we were soaking up glorious sunshine on a practically deserted beach.

Harry quickly assumed the role of foreman, ordering Melissa and me to build sandcastles. Any slacking was punished with a shout from Harry and a determined prod.

In between all the sandcastle building, it struck me again just how impressive Fairbourne beach is, with its stunning backdrop and endless sand. I’m always puzzled why this part of the world is not packed when the weather’s good. Still, being so quiet suited us and Harry had plenty of freedom to run around the sand, and splash through the rock pools.

After an hour or so of this, Harry plucked up enough courage to head towards the sea. Although a little nervous at first, he was soon wading into the water – shorts and all. Seconds later, he was sat down splashing away in the waves, absolutely wet through.

He didn’t want to get out but, fortunately, the sound of one of the steam trains on Fairboune’s narrow gauge railway made the job a lot easier.

I’ve mentioned in this column before that Harry is turning out to be quite a fan of Thomas the Tank Engine, so you can imagine his excitement when confronted by a real steam engine.

Of course, we had to have a go and Harry spent the journey hanging out the side of the carriage shouting ‘toot toot’ at the top of his voice, with me hanging on to him by his reins. Needless to say, he had a soot-covered face by the end of the journey.

It was a thoroughly enjoyable day – and to think I’d planned to sit around at home instead.

When I went to tuck Harry in the other day, it suddenly struck me how much he has changed in the last few months. There he was, stretched out, filling his cot, looking like a little boy, not the baby of eight or nine months ago.

Because he was fast asleep, I was able to stand and study him and I found myself – not for the first time – feeling very humble about how nature works.

But while I sometimes get misty-eyed about things, Harry has no such concerns. He’s a bundle of energy from the moment he wakes up to the moment he goes to bed – minus his couple of increasingly brief naps during the day.

However, I have noticed that his concentration span is starting to increase, and he’s playing with his toys properly now. For example, a few months ago his little wooden Thomas the Tank Engine train set was used primarily as a weapon; now he will lie down next to the track and gently push the trains around it. Although this doesn’t last long, it is fascinating to watch how he is changing.

Of course, he still likes playing with things he shouldn’t, and his latest obsession is my desktop computer. He likes to sit in the chair, playing with the mouse and tapping away at the keyboard. It’s a comical sight, although it has resulted in the computer becoming increasingly temperamental in recent weeks.

Then there’s the vacuum cleaner. Harry still gets worryingly excited whenever he spots it, shouting ‘Hoover’ as loudly as possible, clapping his hands and hopping from one foot to the other.

Sometimes he will follow me around the house with his own toy vacuum cleaner; at other times, he grabs a duster and the polish does his best to help with the cleaning. I just hope he remembers all this in five years time when we want him to tidy his room.

When I went to tuck Harry in the other day, it suddenly struck me how much he has changed in the last few months. There he was, stretched out, filling his cot, looking like a little boy, not the baby of eight or nine months ago.

Because he was fast asleep, I was able to stand and study him and I found myself – not for the first time – feeling very humble about how nature works.

But while I sometimes get misty-eyed about things, Harry has no such concerns. He’s a bundle of energy from the moment he wakes up to the moment he goes to bed – minus his couple of increasingly brief naps during the day.

However, I have noticed that his concentration span is starting to increase, and he’s playing with his toys properly now. For example, a few months ago his little wooden Thomas the Tank Engine train set was used primarily as a weapon; now he will lie down next to the track and gently push the trains around it. Although this doesn’t last long, it is fascinating to watch how he is changing.

Of course, he still likes playing with things he shouldn’t, and his latest obsession is my desktop computer. He likes to sit in the chair, playing with the mouse and tapping away at the keyboard. It’s a comical sight, although it has resulted in the computer becoming increasingly temperamental in recent weeks.

Then there’s the vacuum cleaner. Harry still gets worryingly excited whenever he spots it, shouting ‘Hoover’ as loudly as possible, clapping his hands and hopping from one foot to the other.

Sometimes he will follow me around the house with his own toy vacuum cleaner; at other times, he grabs a duster and the polish does his best to help with the cleaning. I just hope he remembers all this in five years time when we want him to tidy his room.

Football and dancing

I’m always very proud when people say Harry looks like me. I’m not sure why exactly, but whenever anybody comments on the resemblance (even if it is Harry’s hairline) I find myself smiling away as if somebody has just paid me a compliment.

However, I’m realistic enough to know that Harry being a carbon copy of me wouldn’t be a good thing, particularly when it comes to dancing. Thankfully, Harry seems to have inherited his mum’s sense of rhythm.

Whenever he hears music, Harry immediately starts bobbing up and down, hopping from one leg to the other, spinning around and waving his arms wildly. He also likes to grab people to dance with him and gets particularly excited when he hears the theme tunes to his favourite television programmes, Chuggington and Thomas and Friends.

It also turns out he’s a bit of a fan of sixties music. When he goes to my mum’s for the day, he makes a beeline for the hi-fi. Bend it, by Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Titch seems to be his favourite. Even my nan gets up to dance with him at the grand old age of 94. It’s a remarkable sight.

But Harry’s dancing is not without its problems. Melissa and I took him to a charity tea dance last weekend and he was so keen to join in, he kept running in between couples who were taking the dancing very seriously. They didn’t really see the funny side, unlike Harry who had the time of his life tearing around the dancefloor while I ran round after him trying in vain to keep him out of trouble.

Dancing apart, he’s also developing some pretty impressive football skills. I’ve no idea where he gets these from (it’s certainly not from me ­– I didn’t even make the primary school team), but he loves running around with a ball at his feet before kicking it as hard as he can at somebody or something. It’s impressive stuff from an 18-month-old.

My aim now is to teach him the basics of cricket. It could be dangerous.

Hold on to your hair

When Harry arrived on the scene 18 months ago, I joked with friends that I would be grey with worry within two years. I was wrong. I will be bald and grey.

My hair is changing colour rapidly. Until Harry was born, I had one or two grey hairs; now I have dozens. At this rate, I will be completely grey by the time I reach 35.

And baldness might also be an issue, but not just because of the worry. Harry has decided he likes being carried around on my shoulders when we go for a walk.

Things are fine until he starts grabbing my hair. When we walked around Alyn Waters the other day, a good few handfuls of my hair were removed before Harry got bored of the ‘make daddy look silly game’.

Seriously, though, this being a dad thing is hard work. Melissa and I took Harry on the playgroup trip to a theme park called Wonderland in Telford last week and I spent the whole day chasing him around.

In fact, I was so worn out when we got on the bus to go home, I joined Harry in having a quick nap, much to Melissa’s amusement.

The trip was great fun, however, and there was one particularly memorable moment when Harry went on a ride called the ‘White Rabbit’ by himself.

It wasn’t a very fast ride – basically a car going around a flat track. Adults weren’t allowed on, so I strapped Harry in and off he went, making a ‘brrrmmm’ sound while hanging on to the steering wheel.

It sounds daft now, but seeing Harry sat there on his own, looking so proud, was incredibly emotional.
Initially, Melissa wasn’t keen on the idea of letting Harry go by himself but she soon got over it when she saw how much he enjoyed the ride – and how well behaved he was. In fact he enjoyed it so much, it took us 15 minutes to prise him off.

The whole episode brought home to me just how quickly Harry’s growing up and it made me even more determined to enjoy every minute of being with him – even if it does have an undesirable effect on my hairline.

Dance the night away

Harry was 18 months old on Monday – and I’ve no idea where the time has gone.

He is growing up so fast, it’s hard to keep up with his development. I’ve got pictures of Harry taken just before Christmas on my office wall and he looks so young and small, nothing like the stocky bundle of energy that greets me every evening when I arrive home from work.

He’s also a real little character, playing up to any attention and, frankly, showing off. It was certainly the case last Saturday when Melissa’s nan had a party to celebrate her birthday at Stansty House in Wrexham.

The country music duo Jeff Cliffson Duo performed for the occasion and Harry loved it, spending most of the performance bobbing up and down right in front of Jeff and John, much to the amusement of the residents.

Occasionally, Harry would take a break from the dancing to drag one or two of us up to bob up and down with him, including Melissa’s nan of course. It was all good fun and Jeff and John were on fine form – even I got out of my seat a couple of times.

Anyway, I’m sure Harry will appreciate me reminding him of this when he’s, oh I don’t know, about 15 years old.

He was also fascinated by John and Jeff’s guitars, and you could tell he was desperate to have a go. I just hope he takes after his mum when it comes to musical talent; heaven help him if he takes after me.

Swimming is definitely more my scene and now Harry’s a bit older, I’ve got a good excuse to act like a big kid again. We went to Waterworld in Wrexham on Sunday and I spent most of the time going down the slide with Harry on my lap.

The slide seemed very fast – certainly faster than when I was little. Harry screamed – I think it was with delight, but I can’t be sure. The worst part, though, was trying to stand up when we reached the bottom of the slide; balancing Harry while pushing myself upright and hanging on to a rubber ring was not easy. But as I’m quickly finding out, it’s hard to look dignified when you’ve got a little one in tow.

Shopping trial

Harry can turn the simplest of tasks into a real trial. This was illustrated very clearly last Friday when I arrived home from work and had to pop to the shops to buy a few bits and pieces for tea. I decided to take Harry with me in his push-along trike.

The shop is only a few hundred yards from our front door, so this shouldn’t have presented any problems. My only slight worry was that Harry insisted on taking his bubble gun with him. Still, I thought, what damage can a few bubbles do?

Ten minutes later, I was stood in the middle of the shop with Harry shouting at the top of his voice in between dousing unsuspecting shoppers with bubbles. I was trying to steer Harry’s trike with one hand while carrying an overflowing shopping basket in the other and, presumably, looking increasingly fraught.

To be fair, I did get one or two sympathetic looks from shoppers; others were slightly less gracious in their attitude.

Anyway, I eventually managed to get to the counter and pay, much to the amusement of the checkout staff.

My relief was shortlived, though; two minutes later, I was heading back to the shop having realised I’d forgotten the most important items – Melissa’s chocolate and magazine.

In an effort to keep things under control second time around, I resorted to good old-fashioned bribery with Harry; he got a pack of chocolate buttons to keep him quiet – a very effective method of noise control, I’ve discovered.

Melissa, of course, also found the whole episode hilarious. In fact, she only stopped laughing long enough to tell me she has to manage this type of expedition every day. It makes going to work sound like the easy option.

He's a little charmer

I’m constantly surprised by how clever babies are – and Harry is no exception. He is a right little charmer and, even if he’s been making mischief for hours on end, when he’s introduced to strangers he invariably starts behaving like a little angel.

When we were on holiday a couple of weeks ago, Harry had people cooing over him everywhere we went. In cafes, he would smile at people before pretending to be shy and burying his head in mine or Melissa’s shoulder. Of course, this would attract plenty of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ and Harry would soon be waving, shouting and generally entertaining everybody around us.

On the surface, this might seem perfectly innocent behaviour from a 17-month-old but there’s more to it than you think. On one occasion, a friendly lady sitting next to us in a café gave Harry her biscuit, which pleased him no end.

And when we visited Melissa’s nan at Stansty House care home in Wrexham last week he soon had both staff and residents smiling at his antics. His reward was sandwiches and a dessert courtesy of the very friendly staff. Harry, of course, was over the moon.

Whatever his motivation, though, I certainly prefer it when he behaves himself, particularly if we’re eating out. There was an uncomfortable moment in a restaurant we visited recently when Harry decided to start throwing his food around.

At home, this is a common occurrence at the moment as Harry is learning how to feed himself using a spoon and food sometimes goes in astray in the journey from plate to mouth. In the restaurant, however, an elderly couple found themselves in the firing line and they weren’t particularly impressed.

Thankfully, though, such incidents are pretty rare. It certainly makes you think twice about eating out though.

Two weeks with Harry...

I’ve just spent two full weeks with Harry – my longest uninterrupted period with him since he arrived home from hospital more than 17 months ago.

Spending time with Harry is always special, but having 14 days with him was a particular treat.

We spent the first week by the sea in Whitby, Yorkshire. Fortunately, the weather was fine and we were able to get the beach twice a day, every day, which delighted Harry.

He thoroughly enjoyed playing with his bucket and spade on the beach – so much so that I found myself having to pretend to play in the sand on our apartment floor shortly after six every morning.

Goodness knows what our unfortunate neighbours made of it all, but it kept Harry entertained and that’s all that matters.

Mind you, I think I enjoyed the beach just as much as Harry – and I’ve now got the perfect excuse to behave like a big kid, so I had great fun competing with Melissa to build the biggest and best sandcastle.

One thing that did shock me, though, was the sand. It gets everywhere and, thanks to Harry, our apartment was covered in it. By the end of the week, I’d swear there was more sand in our bed than on the beach.

Sand aside, it was a fantastic break. My favourite moment came when we were playing on the beach one day and Harry grabbed my hand before taking me paddling. Watching a very well-behaved Harry eating fish and chips in a busy restaurant on our last day also made me realise just how quickly he’s growing up. I’m determined to enjoy every minute of it.

Summer's here

NOW that summer is here, we've been getting out and about as much as possible with Harry. Unlike this time last year, when Harry was too little to take a great deal of notice of the world around him, he's now desperate to touch everything.It's great - often hilarious - watching him discover the world outside.

He's fascinated by soil, plants, chippings, grass – just about everything in fact. You can be walking around the garden with him when he'll suddenly stop bend over and pick up something that has caught his eye, and this is when you have to be on your toes as it can very quickly end up in his mouth as I found out at the weekend.We've got a few outdoor toys for Harry, including a sand table that is proving very popular. Melissa and I make sandcastles while Harry takes great pleasure in smashing them up.

The other day, Harry and I were outside playing in the sand when Harry decided to find out what it tasted like. Before I could stop him, he'd grabbed a handful of wet sand and was shoving it in his mouth - judging by his reaction, it wasn't a very pleasant experience.

One of the downsides of being outdoors is trying to protect Harry from the sun. Melissa is, quite rightly, very cautious about it, so he can't leave the house without being plastered with sun cream.

Unfortunately for Harry, he takes after me and isn't blessed with a thick head of hair. This means that his scalp is exposed and, even with cream, he still needs a hat. Now Harry doesn't like hats at all so when we started insisting he wear a hat, we had plenty of tears and tantrums.

However, we stood firm on the issue and every time he Harry took his hat off, we immediately took him inside. Now he got used to the idea and will keep the hat on for long periods - he'll even try and put it back on himself if it falls off, with varying degrees of success.Still, it's great to be out and about with him. I just hope we have a decent summer this year so we can make the most of it.

The early morning wake up call

IT'S FAIR to say that I'm still adjusting to life as a parent. It was a real shock to the system when Harry first arrived on the scene in January last year and, even with all the advice from friends and the various textbooks, I simply wasn't prepared for the massive changes that happen when you become a parent.

Nearly seventeen months on, I'm still getting used to the idea that I'm now a dad with all the responsibility that brings with it.

It’s true that you do have to make massive changes to your lifestyle when you become a parent and your priorities are turned completely on their head. Even simple things like popping out for a pint, meeting up with friends, or going to watch the football require planning with military precision.

But I think we've coped pretty well with that side of life. What has been tougher, for me at least, is dealing with sleep - or, more precisely, a lack of it.

Looking back to the first few weeks after Harry was born, I don't know how we managed having to get up two or three times a night to feed and change him. Of course, you muddle through and things do get better.

The problem is, you forget how hard you had it then and begin to get used to sleeping through the night again. Unfortunately for us, Harry has now decided that he likes waking up early - usually between half five and half six - which means we have to get up early too.

What amazes me is how much energy he has at that time of day. There's no easing into the day gently with Harry, and I'm often woken by the shout of 'Da da' which, roughly translated, means he’s ready for breakfast.

A few months ago, the solution was simple - we brought him into our bed and he would drop off for another hour or so. Unfortunately, he's no longer interested in going back to sleep and he will happily slap, pull, poke and prod me until I get up and take him downstairs.

To be honest, this isn't so bad during the week when I've got to get up to go to work anyway, but it's tough at the weekends when you need to catch up on your sleep.

It’s also a bit disconcerting having to watch Thomas the Tank Engine at six o’clock in the morning. Still, a couple of friends with chidren have assured me it's just a phase and that Harry will soon be sleeping until eight or half past. At the moment, I’d happily settle for seven.

Harry's little surprise

I must admit, I get it pretty easy. I leave the house for work at about eight every morning, returning home between six and seven in the evening as a rule.

This means that, by the time I get in, Harry has already had his tea and his bath, and is ready for bed. My role in the week is to look after him before I go to work, including feeding him breakfast, and then putting him to bed at night; Melissa deals with everything that goes on in between (except on the two days she works, in which case it's the two nans who are in charge).Now that Harry is walking, he's a real handful. Looking after him is an energetic business and it's no wonder Melissa looks worn out some days. On Saturday Melissa was out for the day, leaving me in charge of Harry. This is a rare occurrence, so I was determined to make the most of it. Harry was in a brilliant mood and we played all day; he even ate everything I put in front of him.

But one thing that I've learned over the last 16 months is that things change quickly. Having had his tea, I took Harry upstairs for his bath. He was happy, playing with his toys while I splashed him with the shower attachment. I then turned my back for a second to get his towel, ready to lift him out.

When I turned around, though, I was shocked to find that Harry had, how can I put this, had an accident (it's only the second time this has ever happened).Suddenly, looking after Harry didn't seem so easy. I whipped him out of the water, dried him quickly and put him in his cot - crying by now - while I disinfected the bath. Half an hour later, order was restored but it was stressful episode.

As Melissa pointed out later, she has to deal with these kind of episodes every day, so I got very little sympathy.It reminded me that as much as I would love to spend more time with Harry, it's not always easy. So I now have the utmost respect for full time mums and dads – it’s difficult to think of a more demanding job.

It's not always easy...

By and large, this is an upbeat column, which is a reflection of how much I am enjoying being a father. However, the responsibility of being a dad can be stressful and the last few weeks have brought that home to me.

It started when Harry picked up an ear infection that just wouldn’t clear up properly. Unfortunately, this was followed closely by tonsillitis, which really knocked him for six.

We knew something was wrong because Harry went off his food – which is extremely unusual – and when he developed a temperature on the Sunday evening, we were straight on the phone to Wrexham’s out of hours service and, shortly after, on our way to the Maelor.

Now I know out-of-hours medical services are often criticised but I can only say our experience was superb. We saw an extremely helpful doctor who not only prescribed antibiotics to treat the infection, but also gave us plenty of other useful advice.

The medication worked and Harry started to get back to his normal self but he was still off his food. I know this is not uncommon with toddlers but it was a real shock for Melissa and I, who are used to Harry eating anything that’s put in front of him.

In fact, all we could get to him to eat was yoghurt. This was fine while he was ill, but I started to become increasingly anxious after this went on for several days. He seemed to go off everything – he’d put a spoonful of food in his mouth, then take it out and throw it at you. This was generally followed by a tantrum, and a complete refusal to try any more food.

Unsurprisingly, Harry began to lose weight and he certainly wasn’t his usual happy, boisterous self.

Gradually, though, he’s regained his appetite and I’m pleased to say Harry is now eating properly again – and grabbing food off our plates at every opportunity. Believe me, our house is now a much happier place again.

I suppose I’d better get used to this worrying though; according to most parents, it doesn’t go away, no matter how old your children.

The beach

I’ve just enjoyed another action-packed weekend. I’m starting to get used to all this activity now – and it’s certainly helping me sleep better at night.

Saturday was hectic: a trip to Toys R Us in the morning to buy Harry a sit-on car, followed by a party at Silly Bart’s in Wrexham to celebrate Isabella’s second birthday. The party was great fun, and Harry ran himself into the ground, chasing round after the other children and clambering all over the play equipment.

The highlight, though, was seeing Harry on a bouncy castle. His expression was hilarious – he couldn’t work out how to stand up on it, so he spent most of the time sitting down letting the other children bounce around him.

Sunday was similarly hectic with a trip to the seaside – Barmouth to be precise. The weather was glorious; scorching hot and not a cloud in the sky. And thanks to Harry being a bit of an early bird, we were on the beach just after 9am.

Watching Harry on the sand was fascinating. It was obviously a strange sensation for him and it took him about an hour before he was confident enough to walk on it. But when he found his feet there was no stopping him and he was soon tearing around the beach, smashing all of the sandcastles I’d been busy making.

It was a similar story when we took him to the sea. Initially he was very cautious about going near the water and, when a wave touched his feet for the first time, he just squealed and ran away. Seconds later, he was charging back towards the water and within a couple of minutes he was down on all fours splashing around and generally having a great time.

By lunchtime, of course, Harry was shattered and he was fast asleep by the time we’d driven out of the car park. But something tells me we’ll be heading back to the beach very soon.

Leaving Harry behind

I’m happy to admit that I find it very difficult leaving Harry. I’ve got used to going to work, largely because I’ve managed to establish a routine that allows me to feed Harry his breakfast before I go, then bath him and put him to bed when I return home.

I also make an exception when it comes to Harry spending the odd night at his grandparents – it gives Melissa and I the chance to relax, not to mention the chance to have a bit of a lie-in. Even then, we’re always in a hurry to pick him up the following morning.

However, I spent last weekend on a stag night in Poland and it brought home to me just how precious my weekends are when it comes to spending time with Harry.

As best man, I simply had to go, and I’m not going to pretend I didn’t enjoy the chance to have a few beers and a catch up with my friends; after all, since Harry arrived, it’s not been a regular occurrence.

But I do look forward to my weekends enormously because I get to spend so much time with Harry. Melissa likes to hand responsibility for him over to me, and I can spend all day running round after him. What made it worse was on this occasion was the fact that Harry had been poorly last week, suffering from a bout of tonsillitis.

So you can imagine my horror when we arrived at Krakow Airport on Sunday morning, only to find that Liverpool Airport was closed. Initially we were told there would be no flights to Liverpool for a few days and the prospects for the rest of the UK were looking bleak. The thought of being away from Harry for a few more days was heartbreaking.

Eventually, we managed to find four seats on a flight to Bristol. My friends immediately said that I should have one of them, as I needed to get back to Harry. I was extremely relieved and grabbed the chance to get home with both hands. I did feel a bit guilty about leaving the others behind, though, particularly when I found out they weren’t going to get back until Tuesday.

We finally made it home just before midnight on Sunday, much to my relief. Of course, Harry was fast asleep, and it took a fair amount of self control not to pick him up and give him a cuddle. When I heard him crying in the night, though, I was in his room like a flash.

He seemed very pleased to see me when he woke the following morning and I was over the moon when he pointed at me and said ‘da da’. Let’s just say I’m looking forward to this weekend.

Tantrums and challenges

As I’ve said several times in this column, being a dad is a wonderful and incredibly rewarding experience.

With Harry now 15 months old, however, I’m starting to understand one of the major challenges of parenthood – dealing with tantrums.

This is Harry’s latest discovery. If he doesn’t get his own way, he collapses in a heap on the floor and screams.

Unfortunately this can happen at any time – and Harry isn’t fussy about where he chooses to have his tantrums. We’ve had them in supermarkets, in the street, in cafes, and so on. I’ll admit it can be quite embarrassing, and you always get the odd person looking at you as if to say ‘how could be so cruel to that little boy’.

The first time it happened, I was so surprised I didn’t quite know how to react. It was a textbook tantrum – lying down on the floor and shouting at the top of his voice. In fact, it was so unexpected, I almost laughed.

At the moment, the slightest setback can trigger one. At home, we’ve got safety blanks covering all of our plug sockets, which is just as well because one of Harry’s favourite pastimes is flicking the switches. Of course, it’s my job to keep him away from the plugs and, guess what, this results in tantrums galore.

It’s incredible how quickly these tantrums blow over, though. Within seconds of crying his heart out, he will be back on his feet again laughing. Harry clearly knows what he’s doing.

Melissa says it’s just a phase and, as she points out, we’ll soon be able to communicate with him better. By this, I take it she means we’ll soon be able to start bribing him which, if I remember my childhood correctly, is just about the most effective way of ensuring good behaviour.

He is now saying a few more words and clearly understands more and more when we talk to him.

The best bit about this is opening the door when I get home from work, and hearing him shout ‘dad, dad, dad’. It’s a magical feeling and reminds me just how lucky I am.

My new lifestyle

I’ve said before that having a child alters your lifestyle massively and last weekend summed up just how much my life has changed since Harry arrived.

In the past, a bank holiday weekend would have been based around trips to the pub, a nice meal out, and maybe a trip to the football. This time, my weekend included taking Harry to see his great, great Auntie Margaret and Uncle Charlie, a trip to Chirk’s maypole dancing display, and a first birthday party.

Now if you’d have told me five years ago that’s how I would be spending my weekends, I doubt I’d have believed you. But do you know what? I loved every minute of it, mainly because I was able to spend so much time with Harry and, of course, because I got to show him off to family and friends.

Unfortunately, my ideas about ideal days out don’t always accord with Harry’s. This meant that during our visit to Ellesmere to see Auntie Margaret and Uncle Charlie, I spent most of the time trying to stop Harry breaking various bits of furniture.

The maypole event was another challenge as Harry was determined to join in the dancing, which meant something of a battle during the performance. We managed somehow, though, and it was definitely worth it for the excellent home-made Welsh cakes we bought.

On Sunday Harry was invited to a party to celebrate a first birthday of one of his friends from playgroup, Austin. It was great fun (the food was fantastic – it’s been a while since I was able to have proper party food) and there was even a bouncy castle which, unfortunately, was a little on the small side for me. Harry enjoyed it though, and it was great to see him playing with the other children, even if I did have to intervene on a couple of occasions as he tried to wrestle toys off other children.

As we were recovering on Sunday night, Melissa said: “It’s going to be like this for the next 15 years, so you’d better get used to it.” I might just do that, you know.

Food, glorious food

We’ve been lucky that Harry has been such a good eater since he started on solid food.

His appetite seemed to be endless and he was quite prepared to eat anything we put in front of him.
But as with all babies, things change very quickly and Harry has now decided there as some foods he just doesn’t like, which is making life a little bit, well, messy.

Generally, he will put the food into his mouth, but if he doesn’t like the taste or texture, he takes it out again and waves it around. Sometimes, if you’re unlucky or don’t move quickly enough, you get caught in the crossfire which means you can end up with food plastered across your face.

Harry’s chief dislikes when it comes to food at the moment are jelly, pasta, set custard and baked beans. These also happen to be among the messiest foods when he decides to start throwing them around the place.

Interestingly, this change in attitude to some foods has coincided with Harry wanting to play a more active role at meal times. When we let him have a spoon and a yoghurt, he is able to get at least some of the food into his mouth (although most of it still ends up on the highchair).

He also likes to share food now, which is another experience not to be missed. Harry will put some food into his own mouth before taking it out a moment later and trying to put it in your mouth instead.

Again, this can be a messy process as Harry’s coordination is not perfect and the food can just as easily end up in your ear as your mouth. And when it does end up in your mouth, it’s not always particularly pleasant having been chewed already.

Hopefully this is just another phase in his development that will pass fairly quickly – if only to save on all the washing.

Smile

The pace of Harry’s development continues to amaze me. It’s only a couple of months since he started to walk but he’s now very confident on his feet and will dash about the place at surprising speed.

His latest trick is climbing. Melissa says he’s seen other children doing this at playgroup and is simply copying them; whatever, he’s certainly a quick learner.

The other day Harry and I were playing in the conservatory when Harry decided to throw his bottle of juice across the room. I went to pick it up and as soon as I turned my back, Harry climbed on to the coffee table and sat, cross-legged, grinning like a Cheshire cat and clearly very proud of what he’d done.
I snatched him off the table as quickly as I could but every time he gets an opportunity, he starts lifting his little leg to climb on anything and everything. One thing’s for sure, babysitting Harry is an energetic pastime.

And that’s not the only thing causing heart failure for us this week. Harry is now tall enough – just – to reach door handles so he can let himself out of rooms.

I thought this was still a few months off but a week or so ago I changed Harry’s nappy in the bathroom upstairs and was just putting the cream and dirty nappy away with my back to Harry. Moments later, I heard the door handle go and thought it was Melissa – so I was pretty shocked to see Harry disappearing off down the landing laughing to himself.

His character is really starting to shine through now – he knows when he’s done something wrong and will try and charm you with a smile when you tell him off.

He also flashes a smile when he’s succeeded in doing something he knows he shouldn’t, and he also looks at you and grins while trying to sidle up to something he knows he’s not allowed to touch.

And while keeping up with Harry may sometimes be a bit of challenge, it’s still the most rewarding experience of my life.

Ty Mawr revelation

We all like to moan about the council – the roads have got too many pot holes, our council tax is too high, and so on and so on.

Normally, I’m no different but, for a change, I’m going to say something good about Wrexham County Council.

So what’s the reason for this sudden change of attitude? Simple, I visited Ty Mawr Country Park on Sunday – and was bowled over.

For those of you that haven’t visited this fantastic facility in Cefn Mawr, it’s a superbly maintained park that has lovely walks, picnic areas, and play areas, as well as various animals, all in the shadow of the impressive Cefn Viaduct, (which I now know was built in 1848 by Thomas Brassey).

Best of all, there’s no entry fee – although you can make a donation to help with the upkeep of the park – which makes it ideal if you’re looking for an inexpensive way to spend an afternoon.
I’d driven past the entrance on numerous occasions, but I’d never actually visited the park. However, with the weather glorious, Melissa decided it would be the perfect spot for a picnic with Harry.

In fact the only problem was keeping Harry still while we ate our lunch – he was more interested in toddling off to see the animals. He was particularly taken with Hovis, a very large rabbit, and a turkey, whose name escapes me.

Then there were the guinea pigs, goats, sheep and donkeys. Harry was able to pat one of the donkeys but, once he started patting, he didn’t want to stop, which resulted in a tantrum that threatened to shatter a very peaceful afternoon.

Fortunately, with so much to see, the tantrum didn’t last long and Harry was soon smiling again.

It was a perfect way to spend a sunny spring afternoon and, given that Ty Mawr is only a couple of minutes from our front door, I’m sure we’ll be back again very soon.

Early mornings...

One thing’s for sure, you certainly get good value from your weekends when you’ve got a little one. Before we had Harry, our weekends were a chance to catch up on sleep after a long week at work.

I’m not talking about staying in bed all day, but being able to sleep until 9am was taken for granted.

Nowadays, sleeping until seven is a bonus. Over the Easter weekend, Harry was up at six every day – which meant we were downstairs having breakfast by quarter past. Unlike me, however, Harry is full of beans at that time of the day.
So on Saturday morning, while I was nursing a cup of tea and feeling sorry for myself, Harry was shouting at me to make a jigsaw with him. Believe me, it takes quite a lot of effort to get down on all fours and play at that time of day.

But getting up that early does have its advantages. For a start, the day is a lot longer.

We were out and about by half past eight, which is great if you need to go shopping – everywhere is, understandably, nice and quiet at that time of the morning (except, of course, for other parents who have been woken up at an unsuitable hour).

Another advantage is it encourages you to drink less alcohol; the thought of being woken up at six in the morning after one-too-many the night before does not appeal. While this can be a bit depressing, especially over a bank holiday weekend, I’m sure my liver is very grateful.

Finally, it also means I get to spend plenty of time with Harry – being up at six gives me a good 12 hours to play with him. The only thing is, we’re both ready for bed by seven in the evening.

Getting some understanding

It’s surprising how quickly toddlers pick things up. Harry is learning all the time and can now understand (some) instructions. For instance, if I ask him to bring me the ball, he will go off, find it and throw it at me.

I know it sounds a bit like training a dog, but it’s enormously satisfying when he understands what you’re trying to say. Harry’s also started trying to answer us, which is great, even if he’s only managing one or two recognisable words at the moment.

He has other ways of making understand what he wants too. At night time, for instance, when Harry’s ready for bed he’ll walk to the living room door and hold his arms out for me to take him up.

Now that Harry is beginning to understand us more, it’s time to begin the difficult task of telling him off when he does something naughty.

I have to say, I’m finding this difficult. The other day, Melissa was sat on the sofa while Harry and I were playing on the floor. Harry then wandered over to Melissa and put his head on her leg before biting her, viciously.

Melissa was shocked and told Harry off sternly. He smiled sweetly back at her, although I’m sure he knew he had done something wrong. Unfortunately, I found it difficult to keep a straight face.

Of course, the tables were turned a couple of days later when Harry decided to hit me in, how can a put this, a rather delicate area, with one of his toys. In between gasping for breath, I managed to say ‘naughty boy’ while Melissa collapsed in fits of laughter next to me.

Anyway, both Melissa and I are now making a conscious effort to be stern with Harry when he’s naughty. Something tells me it’s not going to be easy.

Appetite for destruction

I always wondered why my friends with children always looked slightly on edge. Now I’m beginning to understand.

In the last two weeks, Harry has managed to wreck our laptop, as well as smashing our slow cooker.

Not only has this caused a fair amount of stress in the Wright household – especially for Melissa who has been deprived of Facebook – it’s also turned out to be fairly costly to replace or repair the items in question.

It amazes me that someone so small can cause so much mischief. Some days when I step through the back door at home, there’s a trail of destruction leading to the front room.

On these occasions, I’m generally met by a grinning Harry, while a shell-shocked Melissa sits among the debris. As a rule, this isn’t a good time to point out that the house looks a bit of a mess.

But even on days like this, I can’t wait to get through the door, play with Harry and, if I’m really lucky, feed him his tea.

Meal times are now quite a challenge because Harry knows it’s time to eat as soon as we put him in his highchair.

The problem is, he doesn’t have a great deal of patience where food is concerned, so we always have five minutes of shouting and banging the table while I heat up his tea.

The trouble really starts if the food is too hot – Harry will scream and strain until his face is purple as one of us desperately tries to cool it down.

Believe me, I’ve ended up leaping around the kitchen singing at the top of my voice on more than one occasion to try and distract him. All things considered, it’s no wonder parents always look slightly on edge.

Holidays are meant to be an enjoyable and relaxing way to recharge your batteries. Why then, after a week in the Canaries, do I feel like I need another week off work? Simple: Harry.

Before I go on, I should say that our holiday wasn’t a disaster by any means. Harry certainly enjoyed himself and it was nice to get in the sun for a few days.

Going abroad with a toddler is, however, a very different, and altogether more challenging experience. The main problem is the travelling itself – and it made both Melissa and I long for the simplicity of being able to throw everything into the back of our car.

We arrived at the airport two hours before our flight, which meant plenty of hanging around, trying to keep Harry entertained. It’s not as easy as it sounds. To complicate matters, Harry had woken up with a slight stomach upset – nothing serious, but it meant a couple of dirty nappies in the airport, which wasn’t the ideal way to kick off the holiday.

To make matters worse, when we got on the plane Harry filled his nappy again. Unfortunately, we were told by the cabin crew that we wouldn’t be able to change him until we were in the air and the seatbelt sign had been turned off.

Half an hour later, we were still stationary on the tarmac, with Harry on the brink of dropping off. Our pleas to change Harry again fell on deaf ears and we ended up having to wake him when we finally did get into the air an hour or so later.

The journey home was less eventful – or at least it was until Harry decided to start hitting the lady sat in front of us on the plane over the head with one of his books.

As I say, the holiday itself was good and Harry loved splashing around in the pool and being made a fuss of by the hotel staff. Nevertheless, Melissa has vowed it will be at least 10 years before we go abroad again. She might be exaggerating slightly, but she does have a point. As for Harry, he’ll just have to get used to the unpredictable British weather.

The learning curve

I’ve said repeatedly that being a parent has been a massive learning curve for me. But as well as learning all about being a dad, I’ve also learned quite a lot about Melissa.

There’s no doubt that having a baby puts plenty of pressure on a couple. First there’s the obvious factors like a lack of sleep that can cause one or two sharp words. Then there’s the stress involved in being responsible for a baby – and worrying constantly about their wellbeing.

And I will admit that we’ve had the odd sharp exchange when Harry’s fallen over or, worse, when one of us has given him food that’s a little bit too hot.

One thing that has surprised me, though, is that having Harry has brought out a previously unseen, slightly dishonest side to Melissa. Now before I find myself out on the street, we’re not talking about serious dishonesty here. What we’re talking about is pretending to be asleep when Harry cries in the middle of the night, even when it’s her turn to get up.

Having said all that – and without wishing to sound soppy – Melissa and I have definitely grown closer since Harry was born. For a start we’re spending more time together, and what could be a more important shared interest than Harry?

It’s also true to say that the stressful moments pale into insignificance against the moments of awe and pure happiness – the first time I held Harry, the first time he sneezed, the first time he smiled, his first steps… I could go on and on.

And anyway, Melissa and I have sort of reached an agreement whenever there’s cross words about Harry. It seems to be based on the Brian Clough technique of management; we sit down to discuss an issue involving Harry, talk about it for ten minutes, and then decide Melissa was right all along. Well at least it makes for a quiet life.

The toy battle

We’ve bought plenty of toys for Harry since he was born and he’s now got everything from trucks to trampolines cluttering our front room.

But however expensive, fancy or exciting the toy, Harry will drop it immediately if there’s even the most remote chance of getting his hands on the Sudocrem for a minute.

I’m not sure why he’s like this – but I’m sure he’s not unique in this regard. I suppose it’s because if he’s not supposed to get hold of something, it makes it all the more desirable.

And it’s not just Sudocrem. There’s the television remote control, food, and anything in the bathroom, particularly shampoo, which he enjoys squirting onto the carpet or, worse, into his mouth.

I find it surprising because his toys are pretty impressive. I’m especially fond of his ‘Whiz-Around Mountain’ car set, which keeps me entertained for hours. Unfortunately, Harry doesn’t share my enthusiasm.

In fact his favourite ‘toy’ is a tent, decorated in extremely bright colours with characters from the children’s television show Waybuloo. Harry likes to hide in the tent while we pretend we don’t know where he is. This usually leads to giggles galore from Harry – and I don’t think there’s a nicer sound on earth.

But Harry’s quest for forbidden objects mean we have to be constantly on our guard. Leaving a door open for just a few seconds prompts a mad dash to escape and, if you’re not quick enough, he’ll be heading for the stairs or kitchen within seconds.

It’s not so bad when you’re at home, but when we’re visiting friends and family – particularly those without small children – it’s a constant battle to stop Harry getting his hands on things he shouldn’t.

I’m sure every parent has been through the same and half an hour of this can leave you exhausted, not to mention embarrassed. Mind you, nobody said being a parent was going to be easy.

Showing off

SINCE having Harry, Melissa’s said repeatedly that having a baby makes you forgetful. I’ve always gone along with this without really understanding what she’s talking about. Now I think I know what she means.

Last weekend Melissa spent the day with friends in Chester. This meant I spent the day looking after Harry.
It was all going very smoothly, so smoothly in fact that I tried to show off – and almost came a cropper.

Things started to go wrong when I put Harry down for his afternoon nap. I thought, what with it being Valentine’s weekend, I could do a bit of cleaning to save Melissa.

However, while cleaning the bathroom, I took off my wedding ring, put it down on the floor and promptly forgot all about it. With the cleaning done, Harry woke but I decided to go one step further and vacuum the house too.

Now Harry loves the vacuum cleaner and he was quite happy to follow me around the house while I finished off.
Feeling a little bit smug, we went downstairs to play and it wasn’t until a couple of hours later I realised I was missing something – my wedding ring.

Cue scenes of panic. I’ve no idea what Harry made of it all; I’m sure he was more than a little bemused to see his dad tearing round like a madman and turning the house upside down.

Eventually I realised I must have left it in the bathroom. Unfortunately there was no sign of it. Thinking I’d vacuumed it up, I set about dismantling the Dyson. Eventually – and after making a considerable amount of mess – I found it stuck in the tubes.

Of course, the relief turned to embarrassment pretty soon afterwards and the episode brought to mind one of my nan’s favourite sayings, “Pride comes before a fall.”

At least I learned a valuable lesson: don’t bother trying to help out with the housework when you’ve got a toddler in tow.

Learning to communicate

It’s amazing how babies learn to communicate. Harry is learning all the time and, when it comes to making his feelings known, he’s pretty successful.

He is attempting to talk now. He says ‘dadda’ an awful lot, but it’s pretty indiscriminate and just when I think he’s referring to me, he shouts ‘dadda’ at the television instead.

Much to Melissa’s delight, he’s also started making a ‘mmmm’ sound. Melissa’s convinced he’s trying to say mum; I think he’s trying to tell us he’s hungry.

His only other word is ‘baba’, but neither of us can work out what he means when he says it. One thing’s for sure, he’s a real chatterbox already, always talking, shouting and muttering – obviously something he’s inherited from his mum.

Harry’s favourite means of communicating, though, is pointing. He learned to point just before Christmas and now, whenever he wants to get his hands on something, he points and shouts ‘ah’ or ‘eh’ until we eventually give in – which is normally followed by Harry clapping his hands and smiling.

Harry’s also learned that if he puts both arms in the air, we’ll pick him up. Now he’s forever waddling over to us, dropping a book in our lap and putting both his arms in the air.

I’d like to say he then sits happily for 15 or 20 minutes reading the book, but it normally lasts five minutes before he starts pointing at another book and shouting.

Harry’s other means of communication is, of course, crying. Fortunately for us, he’s not a grumpy baby so we don’t have to put up with a lot of this, unless he’s not feeling well, he’s hurt himself – or he’s hungry.

He’s even learning to put himself to sleep at night, so we no longer have the half-hour tantrum we were getting before Christmas. This has certainly made for a calmer atmosphere in the Wright household – something of a relief after a day of chasing Harry round.

Nappies

I haven’t mentioned nappies for a while so I thought it might be a good time to redress the balance.

And just because I haven’t mentioned them for a while doesn’t mean everything’s rosy in that department either. In fact, changing – and dressing – Harry is now more of a challenge than it’s ever been.

Now, whenever he needs a nappy change, it’s a major event and usually takes about 15 minutes by the time you’ve chased him round the house a couple of times. The problem is, he won’t stay still and lying on his back is simply out of the question.

For a while we were able to bribe him by taking him to the bathroom and turning a tap on. Harry, believing he was going to get a bath, would stand by the bath giving us just enough time to change his bottom.

Unfortunately he’s a quick learner and, as soon as he realises he’s not getting a bath, he scampers off, with Melissa or me, or both of us, scrambling after him with nappy in one hand and Sudocrem in the other.

Believe me, changing Harry can sometimes be more tiring than an hour at the gym.

It’s a similar story when it comes to getting him dressed. My usual tactic is putting him in his cot while I try and get a vest over his head. This isn’t as easy as it sounds with a screaming toddler who’s determined to fight you off.

It’s nothing if not stressful but we get there eventually – usually just in time for Melissa to announce that the trousers I’ve put on him don’t match his shirt. Then it we have to do it all over again…

In the Night Garden

Before we had Harry, I was very naïve about what being a parent involved. Specifically, I didn’t really appreciate that looking after a little one is relentless.

Just to make it completely clear, I’m not complaining at all. I love spending time with Harry, particularly now he’s getting a bit older and starting to enjoy games.

However, there is nowhere to hide with a one-year-old on the loose and it certainly means you appreciate the peace and quiet when he goes to bed at night.

Incidentally, we’ve now discovered that Harry really likes books. He will sit quietly with a book for ten minutes or more, turning the pages and looking at the pictures, before returning to the more pressing task of tearing around the house creating chaos.

I have to confess, though, that both Melissa and I do allow Harry to watch the television to give us a little bit of a break from time to time.

Before he was born, I didn’t think we’d allow Harry to watch television at such a young age but it is a very useful way of calming him down, particularly before bedtime.

Harry’s only allowed to watch the television for half an hour or so each day and, because it’s a treat for him, it often does the trick if he won’t settle down.
His favourite programme is In The Night Garden and I’ve become a bit of a fan too. This means I’m now an expert in all the characters, Iggle Piggle, Upsy Daisy, Makka Pakka, and the Titifers (stop sniggering, they’re birds), as well as their preferred choice of transport, the Ninky Nonk and the Pinky Ponk. It’s a whole new world.

Harry loves it. As soon as he sees Iggle Piggle, he jumps up and claps his hands in anticipation of the signature song. It’s lovely to watch. Unfortunately for me, the songs happen to be quite catchy and I often find myself humming them in work, which can be a little embarrassing.

It could be worse though and, as I say, I quite enjoy the programme anyway. Altogether now, Iggle piggle, iggle onk, we’re going to catch the Ninky Nonk!

Happy birthday

Harry celebrated his first birthday on January 19 and, looking back, it’s been a remarkable 12 months for me.

This time last year, I was a nervous wreck. Harry was a few days old and had just come out of hospital, while I seemed to spend all my time making cups of tea for visitors who had come to meet our new arrival.

It was a steep learning curve for both Melissa and myself. As new parents, we were both sensitive to Harry’s every cough, splutter and gurgle. We worried about everything: had he taken enough milk, was he warm enough, was he too warm, did he have wind, and so on.

Of course we still worry about him now, but you do become – slightly – more relaxed about it all.

Despite the worries, though, those first few days at home with Harry were magical. In fact, the last 12 months have been magical – watching Harry grow and develop is awe-inspiring.

Take the last couple of weeks. Harry’s gone from a couple of faltering steps to walking practically all the time.

Anyway, Harry’s birthday fell on a Tuesday, the day he normally attends the parents and toddlers session at Chirk Methodist Church. We didn’t want him to miss out just because it was his birthday so I went along too. It was the first time I’d seen Harry interact with a group of other children and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

However, I was a little bit shocked when Harry marched in and plucked a dummy out of another baby’s mouth before popping it in his own. Still, I suppose it means he’s not going to be a shy little boy.

Everybody at the playgroup was extremely friendly and made me feel welcome – and Harry certainly enjoyed himself.

It was a great way to spend Harry’s first birthday. I’m sure the next year will be just as surprising and enjoyable.

Building a Harry-proof house

I’ve said before on several occasions that having a baby turns your life upside down. I’ve now discovered it’s not just your life that gets turned upside down – it’s also your house.

Now Harry’s crawling and, sometimes at least, walking, nothing is safe. If a door is left open, he’s through it; if there’s something he shouldn’t touch, he’s got hold of it. All of those toys he had at Christmas are quickly forgotten if he’s got the chance to grab our laptop or chew the hi-fi.

He knows his way around the house now too – put him down upstairs and he can find his way to the shower in seconds; leave the living room door open and he’s in the kitchen banging away on the piano.

So we’ve had to Harry-proof the house. We’ve got gates up everywhere and parts of the house now resemble a prison.

We’ve also had to rearrange the furniture in some parts of the house to keep Harry away from anything dangerous. Our front room, for instance, is now carefully arranged to stop him going near the fireplace or television. At least this gives him a little bit of freedom to roam – he’s already outgrown his playpen.

He still needs to be watched at all times though – he’s becoming quite skilled at climbing over and into things. The other day he managed to get into his toy box, which was previously an effective barrier to the television. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t get out of it but I know it’s only a matter of time.

It was therefore a huge relief when we took him Blue Bears Play Barn in Wrexham, an indoor play area – fully cushioned – that he can explore without giving us heart failure.

Harry had a great time and, I’ll admit it, so did I, chasing after him as he climbed stairs, negotiated obstacles and generally tired himself out. One of the highlights was sitting him on my knee as we shot down one of the larger slides.

Of course Harry was fast asleep the moment we put him in the car. I was quite tired too and realised that crawling around on all fours for an hour isn’t ideal for a man approaching his mid-thirties. It was certainly worth the aches and pains afterwards, though.

Happy New Year

HARRY’S nearly a year old now and I’d like to think I’ve learned a little bit about being a parent.

I’ve learned, for instance, that as well as being the most rewarding and exciting thing I’ve ever done, it can also be quite tough at times, particularly when you’re in need of a good night’s sleep.

I’ve also learned that grandparents are seriously underrated; shipping Harry off to nan and grandad’s for the night is a luxury that helps remedy the aforementioned sleep deprivation.

Other important lessons include: learning not to relax, it’s impossible as soon as a baby learns to crawl or walk; being prepared for anything before leaving the house (two changes of clothes for Harry sometimes isn’t enough); and the power of bribery – a shampoo bottle is the current favourite – when confronted with a baby who doesn’t want his nappy changed.

Perhaps the most important lesson, though, has been that late nights are now a thing of the past.
Since Harry was born, I can probably count on one hand the number of times Melissa or myself has been awake beyond half ten. However, we decided to make an exception for New Year’s Eve – my brother and his wife had come over from Nottingham so it would have been rude to slope off to bed before seeing in the new year.

So, with Harry safely tucked up in bed, we had a couple of drinks and managed to see in the new year, enjoying a very pleasant evening in the process.

Unfortunately for us, Harry, who had been a little off colour for a couple of days and hadn’t been eating a great deal, woke up at 6am on New Year’s Day feeling much better – and hungrier.

Of course this meant there was no chance of a lie-in leaving us with a stark reminder that late nights and babies just don’t mix.

So that was Christmas

Harry’s first Christmas was every bit as enjoyable as we’d all hoped. I think it’s safe to say Harry had a great time even if he was, as expected, more interested in the boxes than the presents inside.

And he certainly wasn’t short of boxes by the end of the day. Melissa and I decided before Christmas that we wouldn’t go overboard with presents – he’s still a little too young to know what’s going on.

Having said that, it did require a fair amount of restraint on my part not to go mad when we did some last minute shopping.

Fortunately, Melissa, the voice of reason as ever, persuaded me not to buy the castle and train set I’d set my sights on.

Anyway, Harry got a trike and mini-trampoline from us. Building them was a bit of an ordeal – I didn’t realise how much assembly was involved – but, after a trapped finger and some angry muttering, I managed it.

Melissa wrapped the presents in the hope that Harry would tear the paper off as soon as he saw them; unfortunately he was more interested in having a bite of my toast on Christmas morning.

Then the family arrived. Harry’s incredibly generous nans, grandads, uncle and aunties, as well as our friends and relatives, all ensured he now has enough toys to keep him occupied until he’s about five – and our conservatory is still knee-deep in wrapping paper and boxes to prove it.

In fact, Harry had so much to play with, he didn’t know what to do next. He was absolutely shattered by tea time but he wasn’t the only one – Melissa somehow managed to prepare a delicious meal for 12 despite the chaos around her.

I was also ready for bed by 10pm, although I’m sure Melissa will tell you that had more to do with drinking beer in the afternoon than hard work. It’s not true of course; it was just the emotion of Harry’s first, magical Christmas. Roll on next year.

Shopping trauma

Harry, it turns out, doesn’t like shopping. In fact, he can’t bear it, particularly at busy supermarkets.

Now this might not sound like a big issue but, when you’re in a packed supermarket full of Christmas shoppers, it can be a traumatic experience.

Last Sunday we popped to Asda in Wrexham. Harry had enjoyed a decent nap before we set off so we thought he’d be in a good mood at the supermarket. He was – for about five minutes; he then started shouting, crying, chewing the side of the trolley and trying to grab, tear and throw anything he could get his hands on.

Melissa and I tried everything to keep him happy, including coaxing, singing and dancing, which can’t have been a very pleasant experience for the other shoppers. More to the point, it didn’t calm Harry down.

We got one or two sympathetic looks, obviously from parents who’ve been through similar trials; we also got a few ‘why-on-earth-would-you-bring-your-child-to-a-busy-supermarket’ looks. To be honest, it’s a question I asked myself.

So we resorted to bribery – feeding Harry crisps (organic baby crisps, of course) to keep him quiet. Surprisingly, this worked – until he finished the packet and the circus began again.

By the time we’d made it round the shop, both Melissa and I had reached the conclusion that babies and supermarkets simply don’t mix – particularly at Christmas time.

As a result, Melissa has vowed to do her supermarket shopping online in future. It’s worth it for a quiet life, something shoppers at Wrexham’s Asda will no doubt agree with.

First steps...

LAST Sunday encapsulated what being a parent is all about: it can give you a feeling of pure joy that is unmatched by anything I’ve ever experienced (I know it sounds gushing, but it’s the truth); it can also leave you stressed worried and shattered. And that’s what happened last weekend.

Things started off in remarkable fashion - Harry took his first step. Melissa and I were sat on the sofa with mugs of tea enjoying a lazy Sunday morning. Harry was playing on the floor when he decided to stand up. On this occasion, though, he didn’t just sit down again - he stepped towards us.

Melissa and I looked at each other in shock – we simply weren’t expecting it. It was an incredible moment, and I’m absolutely delighted I was there to witness it.

Of course, we spent the rest of the day hoping he would do it again. He did, once.

Anyway, I put him to bed feeling on top of the world. It didn’t last.

Harry had been starting a cold on Sunday but he’d been happy enough despite a runny nose. However, after sleeping for a couple of hours, he woke and I couldn’t get him to drop off again.

I walked him round the house, sang to him, played with him, even allowed him to watch In The Night Garden, but it didn’t work.

Harry’s had colds before but I’d never seen him so upset for so long – he simply wouldn’t settle. Eventually I gave in and took him into our bed. As usual, he wanted to cuddle his mum but he would not drop off to sleep.

It meant Melissa and I managed to get about an hour’s sleep on Sunday night, leaving us completely shattered the following morning. Melissa then spent the day looking after a very unhappy, poorly baby – she was certainly pleased to see me when I returned from work on Monday night.

But although Sunday was a real up and down day, it didn’t take the shine off seeing Harry’s first steps; that’s something I’ll never forget.