George's wonder week

We've had a bit of a wow week this week from the goblin. I guess in some ways I should have been prepared for it. George is seven months old and spends his time split between two activities : crawling and pulling himself up on things. He's not yet moved onto cruising, though to be fair he had a good go at moving up and down the ledge at soft play today, but that hasn't stopped him from filling this week with firsts.
On Monday he started waving. It's still a bit sporadic but walk into the room and give him a big hello and you will more often than not be greeted with a flapping arm from the smiling boy. A woman flaps her arms any she gets told off for being in a tizz, a baby does it and we jump up and down in celebration.
On Wednesday he cut his first tooth. Bottom front left. I'd said to Mark and few days earlier when George was being particularly grizzly (for him) that we should no doubt expect a tooth in a few weeks time. Well I was almost right, just got my time management wrong, which won't surprise anyone who knows me well.
On Thursday George started clapping - sort off. He had two toys from his shape sorter in his hand and was banging them together wildly and looked pleased as punch with himself. Alby and I held a bit of conference, decided it was clapping and so begun another round of George praise.
And if clapping wasn't enough, to top off a busy week, Thursday also marks the day he started saying "da da". Or more precisely "da da da da da da da da da da". He came out with "mumumum" twice about ten days ago but never again. Da da meanwhile was said non stop for a whole afternoon and has been repeated at least a hundred times since. On Saturday morning we got a "p p p" from him too. Percy bullhound is no doubt thrilled.
All this growing does come at a cost. The little goblin is currently sleeping in my arms having woken, screaming, 45 minutes after his previous crying episode. I wouldn't describe him as s big crier but he is definitely louder than I remember Alby bring and it seems to come from nowhere which is particularly unpleasant when it happens in the middle of the night waking you up in a confused panic trying to work out who is being tortured (George claims its him but his two sleep robbed parents have chosen to interpret things slightly differently). The cries are horrible but as I sit here with my babe in my arms I can't help feeling a little smug. There are few things so wonderful as being able to rock your baby to sleep, few things that feel so good as being able to all a crying child. To know that your love helped chase away the tears. The screams are horrible but thankfully parenting us never a one way street and in our home, thank god, I'm pretty sure the smiles and huggles outweigh the screams and tears.