Finally, after the books were read and just before I feared my skin would fuse with the sofa in freak heat/ cellulite / squished by child accident, we made it outside.
My son is a waterbaby. He first went swimming at the age of three months and has loved it since. He has taken to the water like a duck to, erm, water.
Sadly the swimming pool attached to our apartment hadn't quite heated up just yet. The boy didn't mind - he doesn't fear icy temperatures but I only managed to get in past my knees on one occasion - and even then it took me half an hour of creeping in inch by inch, waiting for suitable intervals between each toe dipping until the covered area of my body was suitably numb. I tried jumping in once and my neck disappeared into my shoulders for an hour - swear to God. I'm just about defrosted now.
But this picture is my favourite from my hols. We had just arrived (before we met the blue sofa of doom) and Joseph was so excited to see the sea he ran straight in, fully clothed, and let the waves crash over him.
He's the (water) baby - gotta love him.