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While it has been a little gusty here in south Wales today, I’m afraid that I am not talking about the meteorological occurrence.

Burps, plain and simple.

The Boy has always struggled with ‘letting go of his wind’ (as my mother calls it); not normally a problem in this household. At five days old mum turned up at the door with trusty Infacol, determined it would help. It made a small improvement but he still suffered with trapped wind and colic.

Breastfed babies don’t get wind? Bollocks!

When he went onto bottles at three and a half weeks (you know that saga), I used the marvellous Tommee Tippee anti-colic bottles. That helped a bit more, but I was quite relieved when he could try gripe water at a month.

I even went to baby massage when he was five months old. That was no use, he’d just learnt to roll over and therefore wouldn’t keep still. (To be perfectly frank, the yummy mummies who went all got on my nerves and so I was quite happy to stop going. There was always something up with their babies, one week it was gastric reflux, the next cranial osteopathy. After the sessions, I would go to my parents’ & recount the new fads with a mix of glee & disgust. Plus I couldn’t keep a straight face when I was supposed to be massaging The Boy’s legs chanting “shimmy, shimmy, shimmy”)

Weaning sorted it out a bit more but he still has issues now and again. We do have to occasionally open up a bottle of gripe water on a bad night, what a good job I like the smell of dill. But generally he’s much better.

So the point of this post…

Tonight I find myself in The Chair with The Boy who is cuddling Oliver Monkey having just finished his bedtime bottle. He cuddled into my shoulder and the following happens,

Me: Have you got a burp for mummy?
Him: Burp!
Me: No, you can’t just say it sweetheart. Try again.
(the sound of him blowing raspberries trying to get a burp out)
Me: ok, never mind, cuddle in and close your eyes. Give mummy a kiss now…

… yes you guessed it.



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