Dinner and Dance

Feeding Oscar at the moment is, I suspect, rather like having a ferret down your trousers.
His new-found alertness to his surroundings has turned the baby I once knew with immaculate table manners into a wriggling, fidgety little thing that would give a Debretts editor palpitations. Feeding time is a bizarre mix of amusing and infuriating behaviour - he bicycles his legs around, grabs great handfuls of my clothes (he's fascinated by the prints and texture of the fabric), and swings his head wildly round every few seconds to give me a heart-melting gummy grin (which is 50% delightful and 50% excrutiatingly painful - he really needs to learn to let go of me first before he gets teeth!)