Look Who’s (Not) Talking

Like any mother worth her salt, I am wholly convinced that my child is exceptional. He’s obviously the cutest lad in all the land, and he’s probably a genius to boot (would a non-genius opt to chew on a book over some foolish toy?). And his athletic prowess! Surely the force and accuracy with which he throws food at the dog is an early predictor of his future career as a major league pitcher!

That said, I will admit that there are a few gaps in my son’s rich talent arsenal. For one, he totally sucks at using a fork. More troubling, his vocabulary is abhorrent. To date, I’ve heard him properly articulate just four words: baba (and we’re being generous in counting that, considering it’s really not a word), cookie (thanks, Sesame Street), yeah! (always delivered with with an exclamation point, no exceptions), and his favorite: dad.

Notice anything missing?

No mama. No mom. No mommy. Not even a ma! I’d happily accept a mumbled “meeergh” at this point, but I’m getting NOTHIN’. Meanwhile, I can’t go two minutes over here without hearing some more dad practice (“dad! DAD! Dad-dad-dad! Dada! DAAAAAADDDD!”).

What’s worse is that his fondness for dad (the word, not the man; I remain the favored parent and I intend to keep it that way) appears to be calculated, deliberate, and cruel. He knows exactly what he’s doing (I told you he was smart) and he’s drawing some sort of sick pleasure from tormenting me.

Exhibit A:

So until he broadens his lexicon, I’ve decided I’ll just be Dad.

Home Invasion Crawlery

Congratulations are in order: over the course of the last two weeks, Bubba has officially been promoted from his position as Manager of Scooting and Rolling to a new role as Executive Vice President of Crawling Around And Getting Into Everything.

It’s an exciting upgrade for him, and I certainly admire his can-do spirit (he’s really moving up the corporate ladder; this is his third promotion in a matter of months!). Plus, I’ll admit that it’s pretty freakin cute. But the downside, of course, is that he is now essentially a ticking time bomb of potential injuries.

Do you know how many dangers there are in this house?! Outlets. Cords. Sharp corners and tables made out of glass (and best of all, furniture that combines both of the above into one surefire deathtrap!). Not to mention the unexpected hazards I keep finding, like the corner of the wall that is inexplicably deteriorating into a creepy hole of doom – the slightest touch results in a handful of baseboard and what I presume to be lead-tainted paint chips.

Of course Bubs was drawn to that rapidly-expanding cranny like a teenaged me to black eyeliner; he was investigating that situation within minutes of becoming mobile:

A Delicious and Nutricious Meal for Baby!

Bubba is almost six months old now, which means that in addition to the $92,713 worth of formula he consumes each day, he is also officially allowed to gorge on all the rice cereal he wants.

I was VERY excited to get the go-ahead from the doctor on this. I had visions of him smiling like the Gerber baby with a few adorable specs of mush dotting his adorable little face – I had the photos mentally posed! I was also thrilled to have one more thing with which to occupy him in the evening; by about 5:30 every day, he’s too tired to play (take a nap, dude!) but it’s obviously far too early for bed, so I end up trying to stretch a bath and a bottle into a two hour ordeal (that bath is THOROUGH and he enjoys a full spa treatment of nail-trimming, diaper cream, baby lotion, and hair brushing afterwards – aren’t you jealous??) to bring us to a bedtime that won’t result in a 5am wakeup call.

Unfortunately, “as much rice cereal as he wants” is precisely none. The look on his face when I try to give it to him is priceless, but sadly not in the joyous way I had envisioned. It’s more along the lines of the look you might get if you served Chef Eric Ripert rotten sushi while at the same time telling him some terrible, soul-crushing news (perhaps that I like McDonald’s better than his fancy fare?).

The kind of look that says: “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME THIS IS TERRIBLE THIS DOES NOT BELONG IN MY MOUTH IT CANNOT POSSIBLY BE FOOD FOOD COMES FROM A BOTTLE OR MAYBE FROM BOOBS ACCORDING TO MY DISTANT MEMORIES DO YOU NOT KNOW ANYTHING AT ALL?!??!”

Seriously, you’d think I was poisoning the kid.

So the rice cereal is on hold for now – we’ll try again in a few weeks. In the meantime, we did find something he liked that doesn’t come from a bottle: