Today Dougie is six months old. I still can’t quite believe I have a six-month-old son. He is the most beautiful, exhausting, entertaining, inquisitive, adorable baby – in my completely unbiased opinion, of course.

Since he was born, I’ve not slept for more than four consecutive hours; I’ve cried, I’ve felt beaten, I’ve panicked and despaired, and yet I’ve never been happier. I’ve learnt to function on cold tea and no sleep, and I know that when he smiles his cheeky, gummy smile, all the exhaustion melts away.

I’ve discovered that Dougie will fight naps with everything he has, but that nothing is cuter than when he (finally) dozes off on my shoulder clutching my fingers. I’ve found that anything within his reach will be grabbed, and put in his mouth, his own feet included. I genuinely think that his Jumperoo was worth every penny, and I know that pretty coloured toys and colourful lights will calm him down when he is sad.

I’ve taken him swimming and to baby cinema (the greatest thing ever – nothing like watching Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone sing while sat in a dimly lit room with free tea, full of crying babies and breastfeeding mums). He’s been to a football game and seen numerous matches on TV – the name ‘Lukaku’ makes him giggle. He has his own passport, and we’re off to Portugal in a couple of weeks for our first family holiday. He can roll from his back to his front, but then often gets stuck and lies there flailing until we give him a hand. As I wrote that, he managed to get himself from front to back, while drooling and farting. He loves baths and being naked, and enjoys stroking my leather bag. I know that if I put him down on one end of his cot so I can run to the toilet or make a drink, by the time I get back he’ll be down the other end of the cot, probably on his front, the little wriggler.

He took weeks to give us even an inkling of a smile (except when he was choc-a-block full of milk) but now he smiles whenever he sees us, or if we blow raspberries on his tummy. I think he’s trying to copy us when we do this, and he ends up blowing a lot of spit down his chin. He goes to sleep listening to the sounds of rain and is slowly learning to settle himself when he wakes up in the night. He has the most intense stare, and the biggest blue eyes. He’s finally starting to get hair, although is still rocking a bald spot on the back of his head. He doesn’t stop bouncing if you hold him, and when my Dad plays Riverdance music he will not stop kicking his legs.

Every day is something new, something different. We’ve just started giving him solids (when I say ‘solids’ I mean a lot of mush that ends up everywhere but his mouth…) and we’re finding out what tastes and textures he likes (apple – good, nectarine – bad) All of this, and just six months old. Here’s to the next six months.