One hit wonder

“Heeeeeeeee’s…… aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa….. wobble dobble dobble from wobble town…
“A wobble dobble dobble from wobble town….. He’s a wobble…. and a dobble…..”
Composed by Learner Dad, and accompanied by a frantic knee jiggle, this little ditty got the first full belly laughs from our Li’l Fatty.
Overtired and overstimulated at the time, he laughed like a crazy boy.
Chest out with pride, Learner Dad put his happy son to bed that night secure in the knowledge he was officially the funny one – ‘fun dad’.
Early the next morning, I woke to the strains of “… he’s always wobbling…. wobble dobbling…..”
When I went upstairs, Li’l Fatty was staring at his father as though he were a lunatic.
“He’s a bit cranky this morning,” Learner Dad muttered, putting him back on the rug.
That night he tried again.
“Heeeeeeeeeeeeee’s……… aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa….. wobble dobble dobble from wobble town….”
Frowns turned to smiles, then frowns again as Li’l Fatty tried to work out what this singing bouncing man was all about.
‘Laugh,’ I willed him silently. ‘Laugh at your father.’
Nothing.
Now I haven’t tried the wobble dobble ditty myself.
That’s because it’s Learner Dad’s thing (actually it’s really because I’m afraid he won’t find me funny either).
Although the laughter’s dried up for now, its echoes have nonetheless convinced Learner Dad he’s the expert on making his child laugh.
But apparently that’s not his only area of expertise.
“He really likes being held this way,” he instructed me recently, cradling Li’l Fatty face down in his arms.
I bit my lip to stop myself from telling him I already knew this.
I mean, did he not realise that, in the nine hours I spend alone with Li’l Fatty each day, I’ve tried holding him every way there is, including upside down by his big toe, in a bid to keep him happy?
Just because I’m the SAHM (Stay At Home Mum) and just because I’ve had a baby before, doesn’t mean I’m the only baby expert in the family, right?
Surely Learner Dad’s insight counts for something?
So when he said to my mum recently that Li’l Fatty was on the verge of crawling, I again kept silent.
Mum, to her credit, did too.
I mean, sure, Master Seven was off to a pretty early start when he took off at seven months.
If Learner Dad thinks Li’l Fatty can do it at four, who am I to argue?

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