Helping Out Around the House

I'm almost too scared to write this down in case it somehow jinxes things, but Oscar has now been sleeping through the night for almost two months. He's cut teeth and suffered colds in the meantime, but has managed to get through these hiccups with no more than the odd whimper and wriggle in his cot. That sinking "I'll-be-up-again-in-two-hours" feeling I got every bedtime for so many months has vanished, and I think that there's a chance I won't look like a 70-year-old by the time he goes to school after all.
All that extra shut-eye has given him even more daytime energy than before, and he has been busy dismantling every object found no higher than three feet off the floor in our house. Even though I firmly believed I'd 'child-proofed' the house, I've found Oscar hanging off radiators with both feet off the floor, rifling through drawers that have been flung open regardless of the fact that they had child locks on them, attempting to swallow completely undigestable objects, and climbing into the washing machine. My new role in Oscar's life is Killjoy, as I trot dutifully behind him saying "No" to the more unsafe tinkering projects. He was particularly enamoured with Nana Rosie's house, which we paid a visit to earlier this week. Now, Nana Rosie (my mum) is a born hoarder of things, and her house is an Aladdin's cave of trinkets that a crawling baby likes to investigate. Being the kind-hearted soul she is, Nana gave Oscar free-reign to explore the cave, and her cat Chorley has now a little less fur than he did this time last week, and her piles of newspaper cuttings have been re-filed using a method that bears no resemblance whatsoever to the Dewey Decimal system.