Life is good in the People’s Republic of Chorlton. There’s baby massage, baby signing, a baby café (no, you don’t get to eat the babies, though Milo is getting so chubby and cute I find myself nibbling and gnawing on his podgy little arms) – and now there’s baby yoga. I managed to park my scepticism at the front door of the newly opened Yoga Rooms, realigned my chakras, joined the other mothers and got ready to chant. And you know what? Milo loved it, particularly the bit where we did a Downward Dog that involved swooping across the baby lying beneath us and planting a bit wet kiss on their head.
In fact, Milo was so chilled out by the end of the session that I felt a surge of foolish hope about the coming night: maybe, I thought, just maybe, this is what he needs to help him sleep. ‘Chakras my arse,’ thought Milo, ‘My lungs need a bit of a work out.’ And so he screamed for a good 30 minutes before bedtime and then woke up at 11pm, 1am, 3am and 4.30am. Still, I swear he was trying a Sun Salute at the last waking…
