Big Squidge, Little Squidge

My living room is covered in toys.

It’s also covered in laundry but the less said about that the better.

At least it’s all hung up rather than in piles everywhere. That never happens, oooh no.

It’s not so much that Squidge has loads of toys, it’s just that we don’t have a very big living room and Squidge is an expert and spreading his toy out over all the available floor space. Especially now he’s crawling.

That’s right, my baby boy is now independently mobile and my house will never be safe again. No longer can I put him down and know the he’ll stay in the same place if I take my eyes off him for a few minutes.

My Mum reliably informs me that with crawling comes climbing.

I hadn’t actually thought about this until she pointed it out and then I realised how many flat pack book cases we have in the living room, none of which are secured to the wall.


Apparently me and my brother were always climbing things; chairs, tables, cupboards, the kitchen work top. My poor mum still remembers finding my brother on top of the fridge.

Squidge is currently asleep in my lap, snuggling a muslin and looking like he wouldn’t even think of climbing on high, unstable, dangerous things.

Unfortunately I thought it would be a good idea to name him after my brother and so far they’re proving to be quite similar, both in looks and personality. They were also both delivered with the cord around their neck and both hospitalised for jaundice.

I now understand why my mum has been having her hair dyed every six weeks for as long as I can remember and it seems pretty inevitable that I’m going to be grey by the time I’m 30 due to extreme Squidge stress.

We didn’t actually intend to name him Squidge, we had a shortlist of a couple of names but had one we thought we’d probably go for. However, when Squidge arrived I thought he looked nothing like our top name and in my Entonox fuelled haze announced that we should call him Squidge.

Having just witnessed me nearly deliver Squidge at home and with minimal pain relief I think my husband would probably have agreed to anything I suggested.

Due to them having the same name we’re currently referring to my brother as ‘Big Squidge’ and Squidge as ‘Little Squidge’. This works quite well as big is 6’5 and little is 9 months old. Squidge gets very excited when my brother picks him up as he’s so tall it gives Squidge a whole new vantage point on the world.

Big Squidge wasn’t entirely sure what to make of little Squidge when he first arrived as he doesn’t really do babies or explodey bodily fluids. He also remembers the rather traumatic occasion when my cousin was a few weeks old and my brother was about 9. He was holding her when she was sick on him and bring rather vomit phobic his first reaction was to drop her.

Luckily my Mum was on the ball and so caught the baby bdevastatedther was devstated even though she was fine and no one was angry with him. The is probably the reason Squidge was about four months old before he first picked him up, even though the dropping incident was about 15 years ago.

Poor big Squidge, he has no idea what to do with children. I remember my other cousin aged about two toddling up to my brother with the Yellow Pages saying “Read, read?” My Mum had to rescue him on that occasion as well.

Unfortunately for big Squidge, little Squidge is probably going to idolise him as the ultimate cool uncle.

He already thinks big Squidge is hilarious and will just sit looking at him and giggling.

Big Squidge thinks this is bizarre but it could be worse.

At least he doesn’t cry every time he sees him.


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