While in Dublin, I had the absolute honour of being babysitter, alongside Little Sister Louise (who was officially in charge of telling me which way up the baby was supposed to be at all times, and the one who would constantly say, yes, you're doing that right), of looking after four and half month old Cillian, the new person that was made by Mrs Moo. This, ladies and gentlemen, is Cillian:
I had an absolute ball looking after this man for eight solid hours. In those eight solid hours, the little man dribbled, chewed on my arm and fingers, sang to us, cried for but a moment, fussed a bit, chewed on his own hands, had a bit of worry about the fact that his teeth and gums are causing him some pain, did some of the most impressive burps you'll ever hear from anyone, did one massive fart that I mistook for a poo so completely that I ended up changing his nappy, managed to wee all over himself and his night clothes a different time I was trying to change his nappy (and looked astonishingly pleased with himself, I might add), lay down in front of the fire naked but for a nappy and kicked his brilliant little Buddha legs about for all he was worth, and utterly refused to go to sleep until 2minutes before his parents came home. Seriously. 2 minutes.
He is just God's Gift to mankind. Look at him!