Archer likes to make a point of his individuality, like when, before he he was born, he decided he wasn’t going to be like most other babies and come out head first, but that his butt should be the first thing to see the light of day.

He continues to stamp his personality on those around him by declaring his likes and dislikes. He doesn’t like car seats much. He’s not partial to portacots. He’s not a big fan of bouncer chairs.

But he really hates prams.

When Archie sees his pram, his brow furrows. When I begin to walk towards the pram with him, his little hands slowly search out my hair, or the fabric of my shirt, or an earring if he’s lucky, and curl up into a vice-like grip. While he is being strapped into the pram, little hands that have been prised open begin flailing and a little voice cries out ‘Noooooo!’ (except in baby talk, which sounds like ‘Waahhh!’).

Seeing as nappy changes and baths used to apparently be pure torture but are now his favourite times of the day – he smiles and laughs so much on the change table it has been renamed the Fun Table – we thought it might be worth persisting with this pram business. So we tried short walks, long walks, all possible pram reclining positions, stringing toys up, placing blankets in it, sunshades, storm covers and persistent loud singing.

But Archer just hates prams.

The best we have come up with is tricking him by sitting him in it and playing with him with his favourite toy that he LOVES – a knitted cat with a music box inside it that plays Fur Elise (incredibly unfortunate for me, after 10 years of being a piano teacher. I swear if I ever enter an asylum I will be manically singing that tune). Then all of a sudden I’ll whisk the pram out the door and he’s so bamboozled he sits in stunned silence for at least 5 minutes, while I hope and pray we make it around the block before the expected ‘Wahhh!’ (translated as ‘How demeaning! Get me out of this thing!!’).

Recently when we were braving the evil perambulator, the local gelati van appeared at the far end of the street, emblazoned with faded ice cream cones and blaring ‘It’s a Small World’ in full honky-tonk music box glory.

Was that silence from the pram? He loves music – was the music soothing him? Was the gelati van the large red cousin of Fur Elise Kitty?? Oh wonderful Gelati Van!

As the van approached, the driver saw me and the pram and, so very considerately, turned the music off as it passed.

“Wahhh!!!”

He must have thought I had one of those strange babies that sleep in their prams.

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Uncategorized by julie