I remember way back when, in the dim and distant past, when Thing 1 was a few weeks old, someone – maybe a health visitor, maybe a friend – told us that kids have growth spurts at ‘the threes’ – three days, three weeks, three months, and three years old. Actually, it may not have been ‘the threes’. It may have been ‘the fives’. Or ‘the sevens’. Well, it was some natural number, but the point remains the same. At certain periods of your kid’s upbringing, they’re going to be putting on weight and increasing in height at levels previously unseen, and as a result, they’re going to be HUNGRY, INSATIABLE BASTARDS.

For us, this hit during week six. Thing 2 was unbelievable. He was constantly hungry. He’d breast-feed for half-an-hour on each side then, instead of flopping off into a milk coma and sleeping for two hours, he’d be angsty and unsettled and root and root for another shot of milk. We’d make top-up bottles of formula to try and calm his rampant hunger, of which he’d take 3, 4, or 5 fl. ozs. He’d guzzle milk and formula at such a rate that his brain didn’t even get chance to receive the signal from his full, full belly that he could stop his fevered sucking, and he’d just continue until his steady possetting signalled that we should pry the bottle from his lips. Maybe, just maybe, after all that milk (and a hearty burping session) would he settle long enough to succumb to sleep. Until two hours later when he’d wake up in another hunger frenzy and the whole cycle would start again.

And this was reflected in his weight gain. He put on over a pound a week for a couple of weeks, slowly moving up the centiles. And he looks better for it, too – he now better fills his crinkly little baby face quite nicely. As we hit the end of week seven, his hunger has abated slightly now, and we’re back to a slightly more normal routine, although we still use a bottle of formula (usually 7 fl. ozs., most of which he drinks) if we really want to knock him out for a sleep, in a way that a breast-feeding session doesn’t. I ‘eagerly’ await the next growth spurt for more of the same ‘fun’, although I have no clue whether that’s going to be a five, six, or seven months…

The other major change Thing 2 has exhibited during week 7 is he’s finally giving something back, after seven weeks of selfishly taking our time, attention, money, and food with nary a nod in our direction. Yes, the kid is finally starting to smile. Now I’m not going to fall into the trap that naive new parents (and I include my five-years-ago self in that group) do when they mistake a grunting, gurning, attempting-to-push-out-a-turd grimace for baby’s first smile. No, these were genuine smiles, which is heart-warmingly awesome. Coupled with the odd bout baby babble, which certainly makes a pleasant change from the constant whinging and crying, having Thing 2 in our lives is finally starting to feel like a two-way deal. Even my Dad, the bestest father and grandpa the world has ever seen (in my most biased opinion), admitted that he found babies quite dull and uninteresting until they actually gave something back¹. And I can see that. Whilst I obviously love Thing 2 unconditionally, some of the early work can seem incredibly arduous and thankless when you’re dealing with an mewling, pink lump. But when you start getting reactions from them, especially ones that can be construed as positive, everything changes. It’s now a game for the whole family, a task taken on with relish by Thing 1, to try and find the stimuli that make Thing 2 smile. Is it a tickle under chin, or a rub of the forehead? Or is it entirely random? Half the fun is finding out.

So weeks six and seven are all about development. The kid’s growing (and hungry with it), but not just physically – emotionally, he’s starting to respond, and to attempt to interact with us, in his own basic way. I’m trying to appreciate these early days, where the babbling is quiet and infrequent, as if he’s anything like his big brother, we soon won’t be getting a break from his incessant jabbering, singing, joke-telling, and nonsense talking from daybreak through to the evening. Mmm, stereo babble.