Zireless

You get what you pay for I suppose. And I paid for a cheap refurbished Palm Zire 71. Being half the price of a new one, I should have expected worse, but it actually was in very good nick.

Unfortunately I’ve had to return it for replacement. It was advertised in excellent refurbished condition, working as per factory spec. The reality was that the camera button worked only intermittently, and hotsync occasionally required a firm hand holding the unit down onto the cradle. Still, for the price I’m happy to wait a few days for a working replacement. So yeah, expect no phlog updates for a while.

The boy is going really well. 8 weeks tomorrow, and (as much as I hate to drag out all the parenting cliches), it’s amazing how much he has grown. He now fills out the little carseat/capsule thing, and he is a reasonable hefty thing to carry instead of a little fragile thing.

Smiles are coming thick and fast, along with the occasional giggle. He is certainly amused by the simpler things in life. Like pooing.

We can pretty much time his motions by his emotions, and visa-versa now I think about it. A full tummy is definitely something to be dealt with in a firm, no-nonsense manner. He wakes up, eats, stares around sternly, then goes back to sleep. At some stage after a few hours of solemnity, he will wake screaming about ‘this alien in my pants’. Once the alien is dealt to, life is all fluffy, bouncing bunnies and smiling sunflowers. Smiles, giggles, silly Elvis smirks all over the show.

Strange little man.

3 Replies to “Zireless”

  1. Glad that the smiles are coming thick and fast, and I hope they’re the only thing.

    Ah, the reliable daily poo, after which everything settles down and you know where you are and can safely head out for the day. I remember those days.

    Alas, our small nappy-chappy is having some trouble in that department. We got to know some new people rather better than expected the other day when a certain small person colonised their loo for about an hour, tragically unable to either sh*t OR get off the pot. Tick tick tick went the clock, and the other party guests all went home while the lonely vigil went on upstairs… We ended up staying for dinner, rather than get out the crowbars. All ended happily, I am glad to say.

    Happy eight weeks, master Ollie! How does it feel to be 1/6?

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