Hitting

Ah, it really started on Thursday night. Before that, we'd encouraged engagement with books by touch and perhaps the addition of a xylophone to your small collection of worldly possessions has played its part but on Thursday you looked at the image of Luther Blissett's face on my t-shirt and started to hit it. Then you hit it some more and just kept hitting it.
I thought you might be telling your dad that you don't want to be a Watford supporter but last night I recognised a look in your face as you stared at my stomach (clad in a plain green T) and you started hitting again. It's funny and cute, just like you, son.