At approximately 13 months of age, Hugo dared to take his first unaided steps. I missed it. I was at the shops, but Will and Ollie looked up to see Hugo take ten or so zombie style steps before they cheered, the commotion no doubt causing him to plop down onto his padded bottom.
Three days later, he did it for me, a personal show, his little arms outstretched, knees locked, hips swivelling as he lifted his little feet only a couple of inches to shuffle across the floor.
Then about a week after that, he decided being a baby is so passe. His brothers can kick and scream like the best of them, so why should he miss out? Especially when his mum is stopping him from climbing into the oven. That's the time for a face down, fist pumping, snot streaming tantrum.
Then there's absolute blind faced cheek that comes with meal times. Don't like what you've been given to eat? Fling it across the room and look out of the corner of your eye at your parents before chuckling to oneself that you've discovered yet another way to amuse your brothers/feed your dogs and incite a reaction from your parents, all at the same time. Now that's multitasking.
No longer a baby is this kid. He's the third instalment of the saga that is the made-for-tv movie of our nutcase lives. This week's cliffhanger: Will Ollie recover from his mega cold and perforated eardrum in time for the local school fete this weekend?