This was the boy this morning: scooting up and down my mum's galley kitchen with his cousin's (now surplus to requirements) baby walker. We don't have our own walker yet, but they've been trying to get the boy going on one at nursery. They've resorted to an actual zimmer frame, as Dexter is so distracted by the buttons and lights on the genuine article, that he keeps falling over. He seems quite happy with the one pictured. He's still not bending his knees though and insists on walking on his ankle bones. Perhaps he's just not ready. I was eighteen months old before I walked; prior to that, I just shuffled along on my bottom.
I spent all afternoon sitting on my bottom, several floors up at Manchester's Hilton Hotel, enjoying a belated Mother's Day afternoon tea with my mum. It was a little strange being there with my mum, as a mummy myself, as the last time I was at the venue was for cocktails for my hen-do. How times have changed. The food was delicious, and the experience oozed sophistication - that is until my mother got her Tupperware out of her handbag (I kid you not), to take home the 'left-overs'.
The boy spent the afternoon with Granddad. I figured his rather primitive attempts at being mobile, were probably best confined to the house.