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Balcony man

By the light of the moon, her papa pats her to sleep. Why the moon? Because KK has had to move out of our room where the cot is placed, into the balcony and the balcony is where he’s at most times. 

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Well not exactly move out, but he’s had to move his activity centre – consisting of noisy TV and “working” area (meaning any available surface) – outdoors, where he gets balmy breezes, moonshine and drizzle if it rains. Give the man his comfy chair, remote controls and TV and he’s a happy camper.  

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We always used to just let the babies sleep in the same room, with the noise and lights, but this time I insisted on letting Lulu have a dark quiet room so she can sleep properly – as per Gina Ford. 

She ends up sleeping in her papa’s arms anyway, in front of the noisy TV and beneath the balcony light, so I don’t know why I bother. 

Anyway, once again, the arrival of the new child makes me want to congratulate myself for marrying the man. For the hugs, for holding my hand, for taking care of me, for taking Lulu off my hands whenever he is around, for bathing Lulu, for distracting her whenever I need a break from her incessant (night) breastfeeding, for taking such great care of Day and Dee so they don’t feel left out, and all with such level-headed coolness he can fit in a round of golf for himself. 

He is at his best right now. Like any new mum, I am profoundly depressed at the thought of his going back to work.

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