My first 100 days...

A blog from my son, Arlo. He recently turned 100 days old.

"I'm told that important people often talk about their 'first 100 days', the interesting things they've observed and their vision for the future. I've decided to write about mine.

Dad's helped me with the words as I don't know any.

Right from the get-go, I was fairly taken by the complexity of life outside the womb. It was colder, less comfy and, frankly, nowhere near as relaxing. People constantly jab and poke you and I have to change my underwear seemingly endlessly. Sometimes my parents don't do that right, so I do my biggest pee to expose their shortcomings.

For some bizarre reason they turn out all the lights for hours every day [ed; at night] and I can't see to play. They often stuff a sheep-toy thing in my bed, one that makes a sound like the sea. Or dad plays perpetual tumble drier noises from an app on his phone. I might as well be sleeping in the utility room.

They have endless tools to try and get me to sleep. The house is chock-full of cushion like contraptions, all of which I enjoy for a day or two. They're always creeping around me at night, which does make me laugh. I dress it up as crying, though, so as not to hurt their feelings.

Their latest endeavour in the style of 'whatever works' parenting is to put me in what can only be described as a handheld portable hammock. The idea is seemingly to transfer me to bed when I occasionally fall asleep at the milk station. It's a good effort on their part. I usually credit them with about 30 minutes before I give them a hard time again. 

On the upside, I'm figuring out what my hands are for; mainly, fending off unwanted kisses from relatives or shedding single gloves in ways that mum and dad will never find them. And my other hands - the ones at the end of my legs - are great for punching people in the tummy when they try to pick me up.

I need to drink an endless supply of milk to get through the day, and it's all a bit tedious, to be honest. I get that it's important, but really, every couple of hours? Sometimes all I want to do is sit about and cry for a while. Same as my parents.

Apparently I'm growing very tall, though. Or as mum says, 'long.' Just because I can't stand up doesn't mean I'm long. That's ridiculous. If you apply that logic then people are long when they sleep, but tall during the day.

I'll be crawling soon. Dad says he'll have to redesign the whole house when I do. Basically, just at the point where I can reach everything, he's going to move it all higher up. He's really annoying.

I've been to the pub twice now. Apparently. I slept on both occasions. By all accounts I've also been in every coffee shop in central Edinburgh. 

I love having a bath. I say 'bath' but it's actually just a plastic bucket they stick me in. Mum and dad assure me it's a purpose built baby bath but it still looks suspiciously like a standard bucket to me.

My sight's improved no end. And my brain's making all sorts of connections, most of which I don't understand at all. How can people exist if they're not in the same room? Things like that.

Anyway, plenty to look forward to. According to dad, I just need to learn about pensions, billiards and David Bowie. Oh, and Greenock Morton, for some reason.

Actually, I have bigger fish to fry when it comes to contemplating the future. I've been watching the news because apparently I'm "too young for children's channels."

From what I can see, the generations before me are ruining the planet. Not satisfied with having plundered its resources they want to fill the air with toxic fumes and melt the snow that keeps things cool. I'll need to man up as Angry Arlo if I'm going to survive this impending Mad MaxIan dystopia.

I hear that by the time I'm dad's age, there will be more plastic in the sea than fish. I don't know anything about fish - or indeed the sea - but I assume this is a bad thing.

And I'm told technology is changing, fast.

Dad tells me by the time I'm old enough to eat takeaway pizza, I won't need it delivered. Instead, I'll just order it online and 3D print it at home. I did challenge that. If you have a printer full of pizza ingredients then why order it at all. Not sure he's thought that through.

And shops will be gone. Everything will be ordered online, apparently, with the sun permanently blocked out by delivery drone rotors. No doubt people will have to 3D print their Vitamin D alongside their pizzas.

It sounds like I wouldn't need to leave my house, although I probably won't be able to afford one of those anyway if the first time buyer prices are 50 times my income.

Anyway, not really sure what I'll do when I grow up. Maybe an astronaut or a surgeon. Maybe a gig worker, which sounds pretty cool. Or clean toilets to put people on the moon.

Most likely, I'll just pursue a career in financial services as some kind of manager where I'll misuse words like 'learnings' and send people 'invites' rather than bother to use the correct word 'invitations.'

I'm starting to sound like my dad already.

Maybe I'll present a shopping channel, encouraging people to spend money they don't have on products they don't need to impress people they don't like. Maybe that.

Or I'll be more thoughtful and philosophise over life's big questions, such as whether or not you can access cloud services on a clear day [ed; technically, dad's joke].

Perhaps I'll just be a decent person who accepts everyone for who they are, cares for others and generally does good in the world. Perhaps.

For now, though, I have a couple of decades of menace, misbehaviour and naughtiness to attend to.

... starting with a squirty poo in this ill-fitted nappy."