As a parent you are supposed to be hysterical, at all times. If you are cool and mellow you are not a parent, you are an aunt or uncle. It is that easy. Parent = hysteria. Comes with the job. No way around it.
And the two main worries keeping us up at night, populating our heads with gray hairs and making the financial crisis and peace in the Middle East pale in comparison to a real problem can be summarized in two simple, but incredibly scary words for a parent (if you are a parent, please cover your eyes now); food and blanket.
So when it comes to Miss Cupcake, you might as well give up. The blanket literary bounds off of her, like as if you had just thrown cold water on her, and not silky soft cotton in happy colors. It does not matter, you can try one, two or seventeen times, and she will take the blanket off in two seconds. So, we have a cold baby. At least she had dinner though, right? Well... not really. Our definition of 'she ate well' means solid food entered her mouth and stayed there for at least five seconds, by which we assume some nutrition soaked into her body before spitting it out and yelling: 'jelly beans'?
It is not really a wonder that kids does not prefer broccoli, or go through great length to stay up another half an hour. The miracle is that they grow. Like weeds. The picture above marks three weeks, by which Miss Cupcake has grown one centimeter and a half.
I guess I should be lucky she is not adding proteins and carbohydrates to her system when growing like this based on sand from the beach and bath time soap.
Con Berta nos pasa lo mismo con la manta, al final hemos optado por pillarle un pijama que se podría poner para ir al mismísimo Everest... ;-P Sobre la comida, me temo que ahí sí estamos tranquilos, anoche cenó coliflor cocida (a palo seco) y jamón de york, y otros días tb se come unos platazos de brócoli con zanahoria (tb cocidos y chafados con un chorrito de aceite) que no veas... Chuches, quién dijo chuches??
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