Tim was four months old on July 26th: a turning point in my book, as that was when he could start on solids, writes Susan Hayden
A few days beforehand I opened, for the first time, the steamer we had been given as a wedding present and steamed some potatoes and peas. I then gave my poor child a heart attack when I turned on the blender to puree the peas.
In an effort to calm him down, I brought him into the kitchen and showed him what I was doing.
Amazingly, the sight of vivid green mush did nothing to help - if anything, it upset him further, long before he knew he was going to have to eat it.
I resorted to the soother, which was, as usual, most effective. I then returned to the kitchen to freeze the potatoes and peas in individual portions, as the books recommend.
Unfortunately, I ran out of ice-cube tray before I ran out of pureed potato. Then I remembered I had ice-cube bags - an ingenious affair for freezing water, but a horribly messy one for pureed potato. Eventually, I filled one with the equivalent of around three potatoes.
The other six potatoes covered every available surface in my kitchen, including the taps, and most of my clothes.
In spite of my preparations, I started Tim off with baby rice, which he hated. I gave up pretty quickly and moved him to sieved banana, which he can't get enough of, so now I hide the baby rice in it.
He quite likes the peas, but the potato was a failure - so I'll have to find something to mix it with, having gone to all that trouble in the first place! Carrots and sweetcorn in a jar are popular, so that may be a good mixer.
Feeding him is fun. He is so enamoured of the banana goo that he grabs the spoon and pulls it towards his face, but because he still has poor control over his hands, he usually misses his mouth.
Still, between the two of us, he can devour nearly a full banana at a sitting.
An apricot and apple combination was less successful. Tim's technique of putting his fist in his mouth in order to block the spoon meant that most of the orange-coloured gunge was transferred immediately from the spoon to his fist and then to his eyes, which he rubs as soon as he gets anything messy or sticky on his hands. From there, it usually travels rapidly over the rest of his face, magically missing the opportunity to re-enter his mouth.
We had booked in for a portrait photo to be taken a couple of weeks ago, and my wonderful smiley child was nowhere to be found.
Instead, we had his alter ego, who screamed and screamed until eventually he burped. Luckily, my true child returned in time to visit his Granny afterwards, who gave his mother a very welcome cup of coffee.
With my sister's wedding now only a month away, and the marquee booked, Mum and Dad's house and garden are being given a make-over, so Tim and I went back to do a spot of painting. He renewed his relationship with Daisy the dog, and seems to understand that the balance of power is shifting in his favour.
Once the helpless recipient of a faceful of licks, he can now grab a handful of her hair in retaliation.
"Let go, Tim" is becoming my mantra, as he does the same thing with my hair.
Susan Hayden is an Irish Times staff member.