Tuesday, May 25, 2004

my son is immune

My son is now immune. He is immune to Polio and a four other little bugs that were once the scourge of humanity. For about 10 minutes, he was immune to any attempts to console his feverish wailing. He was immune to his mother's tears and his father's assurances that the world is an ok place, really.

Many of you were at the baptism and pitied his moans at being dunked a few times in warm water. You think it is just cruel to be so mean to a helpless little infant. You can just stick a sock in it because you didn't get to stand there while two nurses buried three needles into his chubby little thighs and then held them there for the length of time it takes to empty several mm of impotent viruses into him--about six thousand years by my watch. Small things can make big noises, like nuclear bombs and my son when being pierced like a Menelaus during a Trojan truce.

Prior to being stuck (three times), he weighed in at 12 pounds, 8 ounces and measured 24 inches long. I forget what percentiles those are, but they are both middlin'. So he is "height/weight proportional" as they say in the singles ads when they don't want to come off as being hung up in unrealistic body image expectations, but also don't want a fatty. Well David is going to have a hard time in the singles market because, when you are two months old, h/wp=fatty--fatty enough to bury three needles in your thighs.

I decided that our doctor's personality is similar to Dooce. That may seem like a difficult thing to determine since Dooce is an internet personality whom I have never met, and our doctor is a doctor and so I have only spent about 10 cumulative minutes with her. Let's just say that I have a gift for making quick, uninformed, and extremely accurate judgments about people's personalities and leave it at that. You will never meet either of them (or at least not both of them) so you can't say that I am wrong. She wasn't present for the sticking because she can't handle seeing babies get stuck.

We are all moved into mom's (happy, mom?) house. We now basically sleep atop a blanket thrown over a pile of boxes containing our possessions. We set up the crib and were very pleased to discover how much storage space there is underneath it. We were then more pleased to discover how much storage space there is inside of it. Those things are as deep and wide as God's Love for me. We can pretty much put all of the winter clothes inside of ours.

Jaime did a little photo shoot with Dawit recently and got some charming images. I bet you wish you could see them, don't you? Patience. For everything, there is a time.

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