Ivy has fleas. At least the house has fleas and they bit the baby. Her beautiful face is marred with a cluster of tiny bites, like a Dickensian prostitute with the pox. They are getting better bythe minute though, and the mummy-guilt is fading.
She is sleeping right now in her new cot, in her own room. Shes had all her day sleeps there, since yesterday, and has coped fine so far. Fingers crossed. At five months she's becoming much more alert, and cranes her head around, checking out her new space, chewing her fist and singing to herself.
Keith is in Canberra on a long week so we didn't sleep very well last night. Ivy was in the big bed and woke me at 3 for a feed, then squiggled and fought her swadddle for ages before dropping off again.