The resembelence is uncanny

Now that the Wonder Weeks app has done a runner and left me high and dry with an 18 month old (for anyone who doesn’t know about this app and has a baby, it’s genius) I’ve very slowly and unwillingly come to the conclusion that it’s because B is no longer an actual ‘baby’. Which is shit because that saying about time going really quickly is actually too true. I mean he will always be my baby but he’s turning into a fully fledged human that can take bites of things without smearing it all over his face (within reason) and if I happen to ask him to bring me something (which obviously I rarely do…) he does it!

What I have also realised is that he has gone from dependent baby to a resident drunk. By that I don’t mean I ply him with alcohol, obviously. However he has managed to take on the persona of a drunk person, not dissimilar to his Dad, minus the actual alcohol.

I must admit I’m a little jealous of the fact that he is able to achieve this state of delirium without even a morsel of gin or wine and no hangover…

So I’ve come up with a few behavioural indicators that your ‘baby’ is turning into a drunken toddler:

  • You remember that song that used to come on in the club during your Uni days that made everyone turn into raving monkeys with springs in their shoes and slut drops galore… Well that. Except it doesn’t really matter what song it is, as long as it’s music. If there is music, they will twerk the living day lights out of it.
  • Cheese, cheese and more cheese. They literally can’t get enough of the stuff. With chips is obviously better but I’ll let him figure that one out when he’s old enough to pay for his own kebab.
  • The drunken stumble… which obviously worsens the more tired they become. This can have catastrophic results which leaves you dreading the nursery drop off for fear of being reported to social services and equally the gust of the dog’s fart within 1 metre of their nostril will cause them to drop and roll like Ronaldo at a football game.
  • Downing their sippy cups like the bell has just sounded for the last round at the pub… obviously with a massive gasp at the end like they’ve just run a marathon.
  • Napping in their clothes and sometimes even their shoes – because waking them would be hell for all involved.
  • Text messages get sent… random people’s Facebook posts get liked… selfies get taken.
  • It’s a good idea to jump off things, whether there is a safety procedure in place or not.
  • Being in control of anything with 4 wheels that vaguely resembles a car is generally not going to end well.
  • Thinking it is totally ok to punch mother in the boob by way of affection
  • Open mouthed kisses are totes ok; the more slobber and tongue the better apparently. Although I do secretly love these, gross but lovely all at the same time.
  • Getting into the car seat is much the same as getting your husband in the taxi at the end of a night out, human sized shoe-horn required and then intermittently opening and closing the window to stop them from falling asleep (or vomming in the case of husband) so you can get them home without having to then do the fully-clothed-try-to-get-them-into-bed-still-asleep thing.
  • Taking all their clothes off and then crying about the fact that they’re naked, oh and it’s totally ok to walk around with no pants on at all!
  • Stairs – every drunk person’s nemisis. Which obviously means going down on one’s backside and even that is dodgey territory.
  • Oh and sleeping in the dogs bed is also totally legit, as is tucking into their biscuits.

So really, who knew that when you got up the duff you were basically going to have spend a good couple of years being faced with the daily reincarnation of you or your husband on a night out in miniature form.

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