Week 48


Ava is 48 weeks old

In exactly three weeks, Ava will be one! So I guess this is my third-last post on My Bundle.

Here is a list, off the top of my head, of the various non-food items Ava has attempted to ingest over the last few weeks – and which, in some cases (with the very small things), I’m fairly sure she has swallowed.

  • a great many Bougainvillea flowers
  • a fingernail of mine which I’d just cut
  • the skin of my upper arm
  • a sturdy-looking board book (made so un-sturdy by her saliva that it turned into a soggy mess)
  • a small green stone – where she found it I have no idea
  • a peach pip
  • at least six acorns that I know of
  • too many leaves to count
  • a label I cut off one of her new T-shirts
  • the windowsill
  • a cotton nappy booster (clean – despite what this list suggests, I’m not a completely wretched parent)
  • the lid of her pot of bum cream
  • an old nail file of mine (on a separate occasion to the fingernail incident)
  • her toothbrush
  • my cell phone
  • the fluff on her softest soft toy
  • her reflection in the mirror (which she also plays peek-a-boo with – I nearly wet my pants every time I watch her “hiding” underneath the mirror and then darting up and squealing when she sees herself, and then “hiding” again)

And despite all of this oral fixation, Ava has refused a dummy (as in, pulled it out her mouth and thrown it across the room) since she was about six months old. Life with her at times consists completely of following her around the house and pulling things out of her mouth. Which is no mean feat, considering how many strong chompers she’s got. She listens to “no!” for a few seconds until she forgets – and when she doesn’t feel like listening, she literally turns her back on me and crawls away, with the forbidden item clutched tightly in her fist, as far as she can get at full speed.

The little imp – she’s a fiery redhead, this one – started standing on her own this week. Every time she does it, she seems genuinely surprised that she’s not holding onto anything. She plants her feet squarely and pushes herself off or lets go of whatever surface she’s leaning against and then looks around her with a mixture of satisfaction and astonishment. She waves her arms up and down for a bit and then sees something across the room to store in her chipmunk cheeks, plops down on her bottom, and crawls off.


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