Say it with cheese

Remember that time we went into hospital for the weekend? Apparently, we never officially left. Until this morning, when a lovely doctor from the Royal Berks’ children’s clinic looked us over and discharged us. She was really pleased with him. Yessss. Henry Jeffcoat, get your no-longer-yellow behind out of that door and back about your business.

Seriously, though. He was so tiny and yellow back in October, and we had no idea. If only we’d known the majesty of the double – nay, triple – chin that was to come.

(I’m ecstatic that he’s not that scrawny anymore, but I mourn for those little feet and hands. I know he has to get bigger, and it would be weird if his hands and feet stayed baby-sized, but still. Once his feet were the length of my thumb. I miss that.)

We were so happy about his clean bill of health that we went to celebrate in Tesco. When we’re not short of time it’s a good place for a mama and baby to go and have larks.

And in the Jeffcoat household, it’s almost always time to go and buy more cheese.

When we got home, I celebrated further with a mature cheddar toastie and Henry toasted his victory over jaundice with milk. We congratulate through the medium of dairy in this family.

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