Tummy Time☺

Tummy time is equally hated by all.  If your sitting around looking to have a bad time, stick your newborn on his or her stomach.  As far as I'm concerned, my kid can slither around on his back all day staring at the sky if it gets me out of tummy time.   The only problem with that is when he goes to school he would have to slither through the halls from one class to the next.  People would constantly be jumping over him.  If he joined the swim team he could only compete in the back stroke.  In football, they would hand him the ball and he would immediately be down.  I suppose it's not the best plan.  I guess we'll have to suffer through it.       

Friday!!!!!!!!!

My baby doesn't speak English but he knows when the weekend is here.  I woke up at 5:00 a.m. this morning and this is what I found.  The little noodle (thanks Linds) was sitting by the front door, in his carrier, locs on, ready to go.  Can you believe it!?  The kid can barely hold  his own head up during the week, but when Friday rolls around, parrrtay!

Navigating The Deep Blue Sea

My baby doesn't speak English, but if he did, I'm sure this is the tale he would tell...I find myself between the Devil and the deep blue sea.  Surrounded by a vast ocean of rubber duckies and waterfalls.  Buoyed up, inches from the depths.  Desperately searching for which way the crow flies, I trudge on. Through torrential down pours and thick sea foam, I pray that this hellish nightmare will come to an end.  The winds are picking up now...2-3-4 knots with 4"swells.  I feel the end is near as I batten down the hatches.  Wave after wave of misery.  Then, just as all hope is lost... bath time is over.  

  

Little Ripper

My baby doesn't speak English but he is a valuable source of methane.  He's been dubbed "the Little Ripper" due to his loud, always audible, bowel movements.  It's quite embarrassing when you hand this perfect little boy, with new, fresh, beautiful soft skin, and that wonderful new baby smell, with a little button nose, and tiny incy wincy little fingers and toes, and he looks at you so innocently, then his face begins to contort, and out of the deep, dark, depths of Hades...RIPPPP!!!  He's not embarrassed since he doesn't speak English.  I'm the one forced to explain away  his complete disregard for societal norms.  "They told us at the hospital this was the sign of a healthy boy", or "the Doctor said he needs 10 dirtys and 8 wets a day, that was only number 9".      

My baby doesn't speak English

My baby doesn't speak English.  Not because he's from some far off land like Australia, Saint Lucia, Puerto Rico, or South Africa.  Rather, I think it's because conversations at this early age-4 weeks-would
be uncomfortable at best.  We would have to discuss why he pooped on daddy's hand or threw up on mommy's head.  Why public displays of flatulence are frowned upon.  Why rainbows aren't as beautiful when they are composed of urine.  Furthermore, I would have to explain his family to him.  "Ayden, your uncle was in the hospital this weekend because he shot a roofing nail into his femur and the best method of removal the doctors could come up with was a claw hammer until they settled on a pair of pliers (true story)."  These conversations would consume ones day and drive parents insane.  So nature assures survival by making the child mute during these early stages of life.  So I'm thankful that my baby doesn't speak English...yet.