Serveral times while out in public I have had women look at me and ask if my son's name is David. When I confirm this as truth they begin telling me stories of how they know my son.
"Oh I know him through Mommy's Club" or "I'm friends with Nikki".
It's almost like being out with Hollywood elite.
This morning as we soaked up the sun and enjoyed a warm fall day we happened upon two cute blonds around David's age at the park. Sure enough they were part of his fan club.
Perhaps if I get a few more sons under my belt my dream of having a Baldwin or Wayne family in Hollywood will come true.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
photo update
While working on a project for grandma, I loaded some new photos to Flickr. Some haven't previously been uploaded and some are printable versions of previously-loaded images.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
drama
My aunt, who has five daughters and no blog, sends me this email today:
Years ago, when we first moved to Ohio, we had a horrible time getting "A" to go to bed. She would get up sometimes right on our heels. We’d battle every night for several hours at a time, for weeks on end. Nothing changed no matter what we tried. We finally asked our pastor and his wife for advice. They had a couple of children older than Andrea and we thought they might have some insight for us.
Days after we talked with them, Andrea broke her leg. When "S" (our pastor’s wife) heard this and called me. “I think breaking her leg was a little extreme!”
I’d like to tell you it will get better but then they become be teenagers and…
shuffle
Here's a fun new game. You need a toddler and an mp3 player that shuffles. Put them in a room together.
Song 1) Clash (I'm not sure which one, I'm new to the Clash): David starts bouncing wildly on the floor and then on the couch. He has this move where he spins around and the flops on the floor over and over
2) Mile Davis, something from "Birth of the Cool": David's whole composure and attitude changes as he begins this jerky, arrhythmic dance reminiscent of the death throws of a spider.
3) Fiddler on the Roof, "Miracle of Miracles": not so much a dance tune, but the chorus is repeated enough that, by the end, he is singing along.
4)Quartetto Gelato, Leoncavallo: "Mattinata": This is an Italian Aria. By this point David has returned to assembling his jigsaw puzzle (oh? I didn't mention he is doing jigsaw puzzles? Yeah, has been for weeks. [Jason casually stares into distance, sips martini]). Without looking up, he says, "meatball music."
5) Sheryl Crow, "Mother Nature's Son": sings along with the doo doo doo doo doo doo-doo-doo
And that is it. The iPod died at that point. It's been acting funny all day but I have been coaxing it along. I couldn't coax it at this point. I read the entire Apple support Web site looking for hope. My only hope is finding a place that will service it for less than the cost of a new one. That part about looking over the entire site is important for the last part of my story here.
David was a bear to get to bed this evening. Really testing my patience by getting out of bed and wailing constantly. Around 9:00 I hear him upstairs wandering about, but I don't think much of it. Finally, he announces that he has pooped. I have run out of patience, but poopy diaper is admittedly a legitimate reason to be up. I go up to find him stinky and holding my iPod, which I had left on my desk like a cadaver on a slab at the morgue. I take it from him and look at it. The screen says, "TESTING." Like a reminder from God or something. Yes, I know, testing.
Now, I have been over the entire Apple support site and nowhere does it talk about the iPod declaring that it is "TESTING" anything. I ask David what he did and he assures me that he did nothing. I have no idea what it meant or how it got there. Just Apple's way of keepin' it real, I guess.
later, Clash fans
Song 1) Clash (I'm not sure which one, I'm new to the Clash): David starts bouncing wildly on the floor and then on the couch. He has this move where he spins around and the flops on the floor over and over
2) Mile Davis, something from "Birth of the Cool": David's whole composure and attitude changes as he begins this jerky, arrhythmic dance reminiscent of the death throws of a spider.
3) Fiddler on the Roof, "Miracle of Miracles": not so much a dance tune, but the chorus is repeated enough that, by the end, he is singing along.
4)Quartetto Gelato, Leoncavallo: "Mattinata": This is an Italian Aria. By this point David has returned to assembling his jigsaw puzzle (oh? I didn't mention he is doing jigsaw puzzles? Yeah, has been for weeks. [Jason casually stares into distance, sips martini]). Without looking up, he says, "meatball music."
5) Sheryl Crow, "Mother Nature's Son": sings along with the doo doo doo doo doo doo-doo-doo
And that is it. The iPod died at that point. It's been acting funny all day but I have been coaxing it along. I couldn't coax it at this point. I read the entire Apple support Web site looking for hope. My only hope is finding a place that will service it for less than the cost of a new one. That part about looking over the entire site is important for the last part of my story here.
David was a bear to get to bed this evening. Really testing my patience by getting out of bed and wailing constantly. Around 9:00 I hear him upstairs wandering about, but I don't think much of it. Finally, he announces that he has pooped. I have run out of patience, but poopy diaper is admittedly a legitimate reason to be up. I go up to find him stinky and holding my iPod, which I had left on my desk like a cadaver on a slab at the morgue. I take it from him and look at it. The screen says, "TESTING." Like a reminder from God or something. Yes, I know, testing.
Now, I have been over the entire Apple support site and nowhere does it talk about the iPod declaring that it is "TESTING" anything. I ask David what he did and he assures me that he did nothing. I have no idea what it meant or how it got there. Just Apple's way of keepin' it real, I guess.
later, Clash fans
Monday, November 06, 2006
obligatory
I'm just phoning this one in today. Frankly, they take it out of me sometimes. I think they have a special secret communication where they tag team needs with the goal of wearing me down so I'll do whatever they want. Lately, David has simply refused to go to bed--getting out over and over. I feel like I have to stay on top of him because he has to learn to stay in bed. Not tonight. Tonight, I wanted to accomplish something with my evening besides mastering the stairs. So I let him wander around upstairs while I did laundry and dishes with a sleeping Simon strapped to my front side (because, if I put him down, he would get unhappy). Finally, David comes downstairs and tells me that he took a nice long nap this weekend. That's great, but where are you supposed to be now? He seemed honestly perplexed. It didn't take much to jog his memory at set him bawling again. But that was the last time.
If I were feeling creative, I would use the magic of words to paint you a picture of what it feels like for Simon to drench my pants with the partially-digested contents of his last two meals. Mighty Girl says you don't care what I had for lunch, but she doesn't rule out telling you what I had for Simon's. Regrettably (or, fortunately, it's all about point of view), I am not feeling creative.
Later, phone phans.
If I were feeling creative, I would use the magic of words to paint you a picture of what it feels like for Simon to drench my pants with the partially-digested contents of his last two meals. Mighty Girl says you don't care what I had for lunch, but she doesn't rule out telling you what I had for Simon's. Regrettably (or, fortunately, it's all about point of view), I am not feeling creative.
Later, phone phans.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
spicy!
Oh man, sorry I missed yesterday. Total forgetfulness, total lack of integrity, I know. And you, my poor readers, suffer. Oh, the sorrow. Misery like, for instance getting soap in your eyes, which I think is some sort of rite of passage for the toddler. He hollers about it loud loud loud. I don't even try to wash his hair anymore because of the screaming. The neighbors probably think I'm applying hot irons. So Jaime has the job of trying to wash the hair and she is progressing, the bold girl. This evening there was some wailing from the second floor as the soap ran into the eyes. Meanwhile, the second child is hollering on the first floor because his wee little tummy is as empty as a promise to blog everyday for a month. Wailing in stereo is some sort of hell for bad parents, I'm sure of it.
David was upstairs and quiet for a very long time this evening. When he's this way for long enough, the fear sets in. In a film, this silence would be represented by a sustained minor key on strings. Armed only with courage, we crept upstairs. The bathroom door was closed. Bad sign. Behind it, we found David with my toothbrush in his mouth and our $5.00 tube of Sensodyne swashed in his hand. The amount of toothpaste on that brush--I don't use that much toothpaste all year. It wasn't until after he took it from him that he realized something about grown-up toothpaste--menthol, it doesn't feel great to have a mouth full of it. "It's spicy!" he wailed.
David was upstairs and quiet for a very long time this evening. When he's this way for long enough, the fear sets in. In a film, this silence would be represented by a sustained minor key on strings. Armed only with courage, we crept upstairs. The bathroom door was closed. Bad sign. Behind it, we found David with my toothbrush in his mouth and our $5.00 tube of Sensodyne swashed in his hand. The amount of toothpaste on that brush--I don't use that much toothpaste all year. It wasn't until after he took it from him that he realized something about grown-up toothpaste--menthol, it doesn't feel great to have a mouth full of it. "It's spicy!" he wailed.
later stereo fans.
Friday, November 03, 2006
licked
We have a new schedule in the morning. I get up early and do personal work and then sign on at the office and work for an hour. This allows me to go in late so I can let Jaime sleep in a bit. The wrench in the system is that, since the time change, David has been getting up at 6:30--right in the middle of my work. The solution--I caved.
My position on TV was simple. Absolutely no TV until his fifth birthday. I thought I had everyone in my life enrolled in this plan but it turns out everyone in my life are traitorous lagabouts intent on the early TVification of my children. So he gets to watch a fair amount of television--primarily "Dora, the Explorer," "Blues Clues (sp?)," and the like. I can't stand the slack-jawed gape that he affects in front of the boob tube and I get tired of the whining during all the times when he is not allowed to watch it--which is pretty much anytime I am around and able to even partially engage with him.
However, at 6:30 in the morning, when I am trying to work, I have given in and allow him to watch a video if all else fails. That is, if he refuses all of my suggestions that he play quietly with a puzzle or the like.
This morning I put in Dora for him and the DVD was freezing and bumping and skipping. I eject it and examine. There is a fine film of toddler fingerprints over most of the playing surface. David observes, "It's broken"
"No, its just coated with little yogurty fingerprints"
Presenting his yogurt-free fingers, he is indignant, "nuh uh, I licked them."
later, slack-jawed lagabouts.
My position on TV was simple. Absolutely no TV until his fifth birthday. I thought I had everyone in my life enrolled in this plan but it turns out everyone in my life are traitorous lagabouts intent on the early TVification of my children. So he gets to watch a fair amount of television--primarily "Dora, the Explorer," "Blues Clues (sp?)," and the like. I can't stand the slack-jawed gape that he affects in front of the boob tube and I get tired of the whining during all the times when he is not allowed to watch it--which is pretty much anytime I am around and able to even partially engage with him.
However, at 6:30 in the morning, when I am trying to work, I have given in and allow him to watch a video if all else fails. That is, if he refuses all of my suggestions that he play quietly with a puzzle or the like.
This morning I put in Dora for him and the DVD was freezing and bumping and skipping. I eject it and examine. There is a fine film of toddler fingerprints over most of the playing surface. David observes, "It's broken"
"No, its just coated with little yogurty fingerprints"
Presenting his yogurt-free fingers, he is indignant, "nuh uh, I licked them."
later, slack-jawed lagabouts.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
conversations in dreamland
Everyday, David becomes more like a real person as his conversational vocabulary expands. He'll reflect on past events, respond, empathize, chew the fat. But it is often like holding a conversation with a schizophrenic in dreamland. He has no concept of time. Ask him what he did today and he'll tell you what he did last week in great detail. He told someone at church that he was going to McDonald's to have chicken nuggets, fries, and chocolate milk. In fact, that is what he had done the day before with Auntie Skylar. At random times, he'll blurt out some little fact or bit of conversation that he picked up in the last two or three days.
And when he not confused about reality, he is fabricating it from whole cloth. His imaginary world grows in depth and detail every day. I asked him to hand me something earlier this week and he simply handed me the pretend version, pantomiming the act. Last month, he was riding his tricycle when dad called. Jaime stepped out to tell David that grandpa Brice was on the phone and wanted to talk to him. Without missing a stroke, David took one hand off of the handlebars and put it to the side of his head with the pinky extended towards his mouth and the thumb towards his ear, "hello." He rode on past the apartment carrying on a conversation with his grandpa, who was waiting patiently on the phone.
later dreamfans
And when he not confused about reality, he is fabricating it from whole cloth. His imaginary world grows in depth and detail every day. I asked him to hand me something earlier this week and he simply handed me the pretend version, pantomiming the act. Last month, he was riding his tricycle when dad called. Jaime stepped out to tell David that grandpa Brice was on the phone and wanted to talk to him. Without missing a stroke, David took one hand off of the handlebars and put it to the side of his head with the pinky extended towards his mouth and the thumb towards his ear, "hello." He rode on past the apartment carrying on a conversation with his grandpa, who was waiting patiently on the phone.
later dreamfans
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
text book: bounderies
(something is wrong with blogger, so I'll spell check this later)
The setting: Jaime was home Friday evening, which is unusual since she normally works evenings. I asked David what he wanted for dinner and we settled on scrambled eggs--a new favorite because he can scramble them himself. He helps me make his dinner and we all sit down at the table to talk and eat.
David was picking at his food but not eating. We have a rule that if we prepare a reasonable meal and he doesn't eat a reasable amount, he doesn't get anything else to eat the rest of the evening. We have gotten pretty good about not being emotional and nagging about it--eat if you want, don't eat if you don't want, but no snacks. So we simply reminded him of this rule and resumed our conversation. At one point he started playing with this plate--scooching it towards the edge of the table and tipping it. We let him know that, if he dumped it, he would have to leave the table and, since we are having an unusually late meal, it is bed time, so he'll go straight to bed. He paused, affected wry grin and turned his plate upside down.
We totally kept our cool. As if nothing unusual happened, I asked him to get his broom and dustpan out of the closet and help me clean up the mess. Then I told him to give his mother a hug and kiss goodnight. Reality must have set in at this point and the wailing began. I redirected (! (I'm lousy at that) by reviewing everything we'd be doing--potty, brush teeth, pjs, prayer, read books. Distracted, he headed for the Dora toothbrush in the bathroom. All was good until he struck up a conversation about the subject while getting stapped into the pjs. I don't remember how he brought it up, but we began reviewing the events of the past 15 minutes. He need to clarify the "no more food" part, "can I have a bisquit?"
"NO"
Wailing
So I walked out letting him know that when he was calm, he could let me know and I'd return. The rest of bed time went normally.
I was just so proud of Jaime and I for keeping our cool that I had to share. I notice that when I lose my cool with David it is partially because I was lazy at some earlier point and didn't establish clear and reasonable boundaries, leaving me nothing to work with when it hits the fan.
Yay!
The setting: Jaime was home Friday evening, which is unusual since she normally works evenings. I asked David what he wanted for dinner and we settled on scrambled eggs--a new favorite because he can scramble them himself. He helps me make his dinner and we all sit down at the table to talk and eat.
David was picking at his food but not eating. We have a rule that if we prepare a reasonable meal and he doesn't eat a reasable amount, he doesn't get anything else to eat the rest of the evening. We have gotten pretty good about not being emotional and nagging about it--eat if you want, don't eat if you don't want, but no snacks. So we simply reminded him of this rule and resumed our conversation. At one point he started playing with this plate--scooching it towards the edge of the table and tipping it. We let him know that, if he dumped it, he would have to leave the table and, since we are having an unusually late meal, it is bed time, so he'll go straight to bed. He paused, affected wry grin and turned his plate upside down.
We totally kept our cool. As if nothing unusual happened, I asked him to get his broom and dustpan out of the closet and help me clean up the mess. Then I told him to give his mother a hug and kiss goodnight. Reality must have set in at this point and the wailing began. I redirected (! (I'm lousy at that) by reviewing everything we'd be doing--potty, brush teeth, pjs, prayer, read books. Distracted, he headed for the Dora toothbrush in the bathroom. All was good until he struck up a conversation about the subject while getting stapped into the pjs. I don't remember how he brought it up, but we began reviewing the events of the past 15 minutes. He need to clarify the "no more food" part, "can I have a bisquit?"
"NO"
Wailing
So I walked out letting him know that when he was calm, he could let me know and I'd return. The rest of bed time went normally.
I was just so proud of Jaime and I for keeping our cool that I had to share. I notice that when I lose my cool with David it is partially because I was lazy at some earlier point and didn't establish clear and reasonable boundaries, leaving me nothing to work with when it hits the fan.
Yay!
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Special Delivery
UPS finally sent Simon's personality upgrade.
That's right, we have smiles!
(Warning: Smiles contained on said baby are inconsistent and do not indicate true affection or genuine pleasure in the moment.)
That's right, we have smiles!
(Warning: Smiles contained on said baby are inconsistent and do not indicate true affection or genuine pleasure in the moment.)
love hate?
Lately, David has been mean to Grandpa-Great (dad's dad). He pointedly does not give his great-grandfather hugs, tells him they are not friends or that he doesn't like him. Yesterday, I sternly rebuked him for this behavior so he ran to Grandpa-Great and hugged his knees. Grandpa picked him up, gave him a kiss and they were best buds. Granny Great asked me where he learned this "you are not my friend" stuff. Well, from some other kids he has played with, I guess. Jaime and I were discussing it last night. We don't think he means it or understands it. He has seen the behavior go unchecked in others, he assumes it is appropriate, and imitates it. As soon as I point out that it is inappropriate, he is happy to drop it.
This emotional disingenuousness extends to other places--such as crying. He has this fake cry he does when he is peeved that he is not getting his way. He curls his mouth down, squints, and moans. The fake is pretty easy to detect--it comes from nowhere without any build up, is absent of tears, and can disappear just as quickly--"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa--hey, a bug!" The frequency of this fake crying has increased since he has observed the level of attention Simon gets for similar-sounding behavior.
Here is the problem--how much of his emotional signaling can I believe is tied to genuine emotion and how much of it is simply this parroting of other's behavior? Early Monday morning, he woke up crying (genuinely) and got out of bed and headed for our room. I headed him off at his bedroom door, herded him back to bed, laid down with him, and rubbed his back. He was snuggled right up against me. "Dad," he said.
"Yes, David"
"I love you."
So, am I touched by my son's expression of genuine love for me or do I assume that this is on par with telling his grandpa that they are not friends? (Actually, the answer to that one is pretty easy--I don't care. My boy told me that he loved me and I'm taking it, I don't care where it came from. I only wish I had recorded it to play back in 13 years.)
later, fans (genuine and otherwise)
This emotional disingenuousness extends to other places--such as crying. He has this fake cry he does when he is peeved that he is not getting his way. He curls his mouth down, squints, and moans. The fake is pretty easy to detect--it comes from nowhere without any build up, is absent of tears, and can disappear just as quickly--"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa--hey, a bug!" The frequency of this fake crying has increased since he has observed the level of attention Simon gets for similar-sounding behavior.
Here is the problem--how much of his emotional signaling can I believe is tied to genuine emotion and how much of it is simply this parroting of other's behavior? Early Monday morning, he woke up crying (genuinely) and got out of bed and headed for our room. I headed him off at his bedroom door, herded him back to bed, laid down with him, and rubbed his back. He was snuggled right up against me. "Dad," he said.
"Yes, David"
"I love you."
So, am I touched by my son's expression of genuine love for me or do I assume that this is on par with telling his grandpa that they are not friends? (Actually, the answer to that one is pretty easy--I don't care. My boy told me that he loved me and I'm taking it, I don't care where it came from. I only wish I had recorded it to play back in 13 years.)
later, fans (genuine and otherwise)
Monday, October 16, 2006
nanoblomo
Val has convinced Ed to particpate with her in National Novel Writing Month. My question: "Who will raise their children?"
I calculated the amount of time that I would need to dedicate each day to produce the required number of words and subtracted the amount of time each day I have if I want to maintain my marriage. The answer is a negative integer. So until I have developed my space-time warping skills, NaNoWriMo is not for me (we could go into why I am not dedicating what little time I do have to writing novel I've begun, the other one I've outlined, and the two others I'm mentally gestating, but you are not my therapist).
Fussy to the rescue (via Laid Off Dad). She is challenging those of us in blogland to make November National Blog Writing Month. So I have taken up the challenge to post to this blog every day in November, wether I have something post-worthy or not--photos don't count. I want to be a writer not a photographer (not entirely true, ask my therapist). You may ask, "if you have the energy and content to post every day for a month, then why do you only post fortnightly? Again, not my therapist.
Later fans of foster parents of NaNoWriMo orphans.
Urchins of the literati
I calculated the amount of time that I would need to dedicate each day to produce the required number of words and subtracted the amount of time each day I have if I want to maintain my marriage. The answer is a negative integer. So until I have developed my space-time warping skills, NaNoWriMo is not for me (we could go into why I am not dedicating what little time I do have to writing novel I've begun, the other one I've outlined, and the two others I'm mentally gestating, but you are not my therapist).
Fussy to the rescue (via Laid Off Dad). She is challenging those of us in blogland to make November National Blog Writing Month. So I have taken up the challenge to post to this blog every day in November, wether I have something post-worthy or not--photos don't count. I want to be a writer not a photographer (not entirely true, ask my therapist). You may ask, "if you have the energy and content to post every day for a month, then why do you only post fortnightly? Again, not my therapist.
Later fans of foster parents of NaNoWriMo orphans.
Urchins of the literati
Saturday, October 14, 2006
i'm a pro, so you can print
You can now purchase prints of photos that you see on this blog.
Most of the photos that will be posted from today forward (including the two below) will be loaded in a file size that allows you to buy prints from Flickr's photo-finishing service or download large-sized images that you can print elsewhere. I will attempt to go backwards and upload new, larger versions of older photos as I have time (ha!).
How?
First, you have to get your own Flickr account. Regrettably, this means that you also have to get a yahoo account (sbcglobal is a Yahoo account).
How do you know if the photo is suitable for printing? Click on it. Above the photo is a series of little icons. One shows a magnifying glass and says "ALL SIZES." Click on it, then pick the original size. If it is HUGE, like, larger than your screen, then is a suitable resolution for printing.
Go back and click "order prints." Or your can just download the big size image and print it wherever you want.
Call with questions.
enjoy, photo-emulsion fans
Most of the photos that will be posted from today forward (including the two below) will be loaded in a file size that allows you to buy prints from Flickr's photo-finishing service or download large-sized images that you can print elsewhere. I will attempt to go backwards and upload new, larger versions of older photos as I have time (ha!).
How?
First, you have to get your own Flickr account. Regrettably, this means that you also have to get a yahoo account (sbcglobal is a Yahoo account).
How do you know if the photo is suitable for printing? Click on it. Above the photo is a series of little icons. One shows a magnifying glass and says "ALL SIZES." Click on it, then pick the original size. If it is HUGE, like, larger than your screen, then is a suitable resolution for printing.
Go back and click "order prints." Or your can just download the big size image and print it wherever you want.
Call with questions.
enjoy, photo-emulsion fans
new photos
I did a photo shoot with David a Simon last week but new security measures are getting in the way of me posting to this blog. So click through this thumbnail to see some gorgeous photos.
Steve, Mr. Potato Head, David
Grandpa Steve rushed in from Colorado to play with David. Click through the photo to see a couple more shots.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Thursday, October 05, 2006
fish omelet
David often gets up and around in the morning before Jaime does or while she is in the shower. Usually, he is ok, but he can get into things. One time he came upstairs with a bottle of lemon juice and a bottle of soy sauce saying that he wanted a drink. A couple of days ago, he had two eggs in one hand and the "Finding Nemo" dvd in the other.
stop panicking
So the Barium swallow went predictably well. Like the rattle in your car that you only hear until you go to the shop,he didn't spit up or show anything abnormal. Nevertheless, Jaime managed to rangle some anti-reflux meds out of our doctor. Suddenly, we are experiencing a barf drought at chez sdjj. It's going to wreck our entire barf-based economy. We're going to have to apply for barf subsidies from the department of barficulture.
ahem.
They weighed and measured him. He is 22 inches long and weighs 9 lbs, 10 oz.
His weight puts him in the 22nd percentile for his age, the same percentage as women who test too high for levels of mercury.
Simon is definitely more an "infant" now rather than "new born." He's looking around, cooing, holding up his head and responding to the world. He will sit on my lap looking around, I'll move my face into his line of site, and his expression will change, like "oh hi, where did you come from?" This evening, I fed him a bottle for the first time. It was bonding and all, but doesn't seem the same without getting barfed on.
In other news, David and I hit the gym(nastics school) again this evening and were informed that a boy who jumps as well as he does should also be standing on one foot unassisted. So, when we got home, I tied one foot to his waist and told him he could have a glass of chocolate milk just as soon has he can get into the kitchen and get it. I'm confident that his monopedalism will improve by next week.
I'll be sure to report on his progress.
Later, mercury fans.
ahem.
They weighed and measured him. He is 22 inches long and weighs 9 lbs, 10 oz.
His weight puts him in the 22nd percentile for his age, the same percentage as women who test too high for levels of mercury.
Simon is definitely more an "infant" now rather than "new born." He's looking around, cooing, holding up his head and responding to the world. He will sit on my lap looking around, I'll move my face into his line of site, and his expression will change, like "oh hi, where did you come from?" This evening, I fed him a bottle for the first time. It was bonding and all, but doesn't seem the same without getting barfed on.
In other news, David and I hit the gym(nastics school) again this evening and were informed that a boy who jumps as well as he does should also be standing on one foot unassisted. So, when we got home, I tied one foot to his waist and told him he could have a glass of chocolate milk just as soon has he can get into the kitchen and get it. I'm confident that his monopedalism will improve by next week.
I'll be sure to report on his progress.
Later, mercury fans.
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