Gosh, isn’t it fun to have a blog? Yesterday after I posted I spent a good portion of the rest of the day checking my stats, playing with the widgets and the tools, and generally being inattentive to May Blossom as she tottered around taking what might have been steps. Who has time to watch their baby reach milestones when there are stats pages to visit?
At one point I got terribly excited when I received an email from WordPress to inform me that someone had subscribed to the blog. Unfortunately it was me. I pressed the wrong button and subscribed to my own blog. Next I’ll be stalking myself and stealing my own underpants from my own clothesline.
When H (that’s my husband, who is undecided about whether or not to have his name or real first initial on this blog) came home from work I told him how many people had looked at my New Blog. It was quite a lot. I don’t want to brag so I’ll just say it started with 1 and ended with 15.
‘Wow,’ he said. ‘It looks like there might be something to this Internet thing.’
But a blog can’t just be about blogging because that is not interesting. If that continues, the people who charitably looked at this site yesterday will turn away in droves and go back to looking at pictures of Kim Jong Il looking at things. So today I’ll head off and do something interesting and then I’ll come back and tell you all about it. I might take May Blossom to the zoo. I will quite likely take her to a coffee shop, where she and her small friend Seamus (not his real name) will sit in high chairs, steal each other’s water bottles, refuse to eat their own food, pick at each other’s lunches, eat spoonfuls of cappuccino froth and attempt to pull hot coffees off the table and onto their fool selves when Seamus’ mother and I are busy talking. Such is the life of a ten and a half month old. Here at least. Probably not the life of a ten and a half month old in Mongolia or Peru.
Baby elephant falls off a log at the zoo. Photo by H.
Other activities for May Blossom today will include climbing up the outside of her cot, shouting ‘La-di-da-di-da‘ whenever shown a picture of a frog, and bursting into tears of furious anger whenever thwarted from switching on and off the power points incessantly. Off we go.