The Weigh In

The next dose of Bertie-smack is here. And it's 100% uncut afghan goodness - 9.379 kilos of it.

And for those faux antipodeans out there, there are more than three photographs of our most precious barrel. And what a barrel she is. Svelte like a jug of custard and possibly the most charming bean ever. The roll remains a distant aspiration but there are hints of a bottom shuffle emerging from the morass - following in a rich Jessop heritage of buttock locomotion. It is particularly apparent when in her high chair she gets her shuffle on - normally to signal gastronomic delight - indeed such is her momentum that occasional her chair slowly judders across the room like an untamed washing machine on a spin cycle.

Last night she devoured the constituent parts of a roast dinner - roast spuds, parsnips, apple sauce, onion sauce whilst taking the head with an insouciance well beyond her years. She becharmed Dancy with an array of shuffling, gurgling, slapping, cooing and flatulent exuberance that would shame even the most experienced hosts. In short she is the hammer.  I told you homeboy.

Her tooth remains a lone insurgent but she has immediately mastered its application - destroying apple and rice crackers with ease and chewing on pasta and fingers without discrimination. Moreover, her absurdly fine hairs continue to multiply surrounding her vast bonce with a blonde haze that we all hope will turn into a mass of curls. At that point, we may as well all give up and go home - resistance will be futile.

Even the dismissal of AVB has not affected her. What a stoic sausage. [This link is actually a work of art]

Er excuse Matron, I say there must be some mistake. I can't possibly weigh this much.
Oh you double checked. Ah. Bugger. 

Why doesn't that other baby have articulated arms? 

Rotund Perfection.

Nefertiti ain't got nothing on Bertie.

Behemoth