Stunt Baby

Nearly two weeks after Chickie decided to swallow a practically whole Babybel, I have finally breathed out. He hasn't missed a single opportunity to exploit my post-traumatic shock, even fake coughing whilst tucking into his dinner so he can enjoy the sight of mummy running around in circles again.

At playgroup, he's taken to licking the playdoh provocatively, his mischevious eyes dancing with delight as he smells mummy's fear. Taking full advantage of mummy's complete and utter attention, he's added a whole range of kamikaze inspired activities to his repertoire, guaranteed to shock. Attempting to climb onto the dining room table, swinging from the stairgates one handed, using the sofa as both trampoline and mounting block to tightrope along the windowsill.

He, in short, has become a health and safety nightmare. Wherever he is, I'm worried. When he's at pre-school, I'm worried. When he's eating, I'm worried. When's he sleeping, I'm worried.

On the plus side, the constant anxiety has lost me half a stone.

Fabulous.