Last night, I carried him in my arms and lifted him up and down the air like a human dumb bell. He couldn't stand/crawl much say walk. My arms grew tired in awhile and then I made him sit on my lap while I sat on the floor watching 22 people chasing after a ball. He couldn't sit well/still too. He tossed and turned and with little effort, his front was pressed against mine. He then later rubbed his nose against my breast/chest and started crying. I was amused. Hahaha. Soon, I gave up and brought him back to the room and laid him down in his cot. His smile returned immediately and he started giggling with a rubber toy in his hands. Drool was all over his face and my shirt. He must be angry in my arms.

Much later in the night, I had impromptu homecooked porridge for supper. And then I walked from room to room in the house talking to people randomly. That's about all.

Baby J was still goo-ing and gaa-ing when I left.

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This morning, something occured to me suddenly. It struck me and now I have that mantra stuck in my head. All is well and good.