Bertie and Neoprene.

Sorry for the lapse in activity, it's been over a month since I spanked down some grammatically prone nonsense onto these pages. And what a month it has been. Bertie, destroyer of breasts, is a changed being. Bertie 2.0, if one were to use faddish terminology of the worst sort, is a beast. Measuring three foot tall and weighing the same as two blue whales there can be no doubting her behemothic potential.  What can she do? Well she has perfected the smile (a gummy pink smile of delirious wonderment), she can coo and goo like a chattering oaf all day long and she get her little finger and ring finger so far into her mouth that she can gouge her eyeball out with her middle and index finger. Welt Klasse. 

Best of all though, is that she can now, when she focuses all her being she can mimic me sticking my tongue out. Sadly at that point she loses the plot and insists on then sticking her tongue in and out madly for the next five minutes. 

Sadly, for all this progress there have been a few retrograde steps, the most unfortunate being her sleeping pattern. The nights when she slept for five or six hours like a hound are a distant memory from a halcyon age. Which is wordy way of saying it's a right bloody nightmare. Devil baby. 

Below I've spanked down twelve delightful pictures that show her at her most delightful, including a diptych in an ongoing series of what to put on your baby's head when bored. 

A truffling dreamer.

Oh yes, Sir.

Colander.

Dignity. Always Dignity.
[With thanks to Veronique for pushing the boundaries]

A silk turtle mobile. Bourgeois. No chance.

Nancy aboard the Lead Balloon - which is the boat's actual name. I'm not even trying to be funny. Sash, the man dressed a bit like your dad might on a trip to Cleethorpes, actually wants to rename it the Loveboat. I mean really.

Coy

Spanked

Give her a burp

Breast.

This makes you a little gooey doesn't it. 

D'MOOOR