So I had this blog post going in my head:
"This morning, we had the following exchange with Iain:
FDH: Let's wear this!
CRH: Iain, your mother is relentlessly preppy! Everything she puts on you has a polo collar!
FDH to Iain: Son, meet the pot. I'm the kettle. Your father refused to greet the sun without a collared shirt for a decade. These days, he wears a T-shirt twice a week and thinks he's extremely relaxed.
CRH: [snorts] [drinks coffee in rocking chair while FDH changes diaper, talks to Iain, dresses Iain...]
FDH: Just to be daring, let's put on RED SOCKS!!
CRH: That's just wrong. It doesn't even match.
FDH: See my point? Who's preppy now? Or just conservative in dress? Ok, no red socks [strips off super-cute red socks] how about these? [puts on duckie socks - they are white socks on the bottom of the foot but on the top they have 3-dimensional stuffed duckies, making Iain's feet look like little ducks]
CRH: Nice. Undermining Daddy with the baby. And him only 5.5 weeks old."
I was going to accompany this post with cute photos of Iain in his collared shirt, Iain with duckie feet, etc.
BUT...
Iain spent 10 minutes in his bouncy seat (thanks, Stacey and Chris!) in the bathroom while I showered. The steam helps clear his sinuses.
So I'm all shampooing, soaping, adjusting the water so it's not quite nuclear...all the usual stuff. And Iain? Oh, he's fine. NO, really.
Or maybe he's puking up a gallon of milk. All over his preppy shirt. And his bib. And the kleenex we put over his bib. And his socks (ducks!). And the bouncey seat. And his arm. And his face.
It's even coming out his nose. Charming.
So I get out of the shower, strip him, run a bath, bathe him, gather up the load of laundry he's created, re-dress him, re-diaper him [those last two in reverse order], and ponder the question: where does a baby this small come up with approximately a gallon of puke? Where's it coming from???
Hence, no post. No photos of Mr. Cute in his preppy onesie with his duckie socks.
Sorry.
2 comments:
I'm still stuck on the '5.5 weeks' remark. You can take the boy out of the magnate school, but you can't take the magnate school out of the boy. I'm curious if there have been any estimates taken to the second decimal place?
Charles, I have to remind you that by State law, you're not allowed to teach your kids to speak in binary until they're at least eight.
I'm joking, of course, I'm actually still distracted by the gallon of vomit. Maybe you should consider investing in a tiny wet suit? Then you could just dip the baby clean.
OMG! That's genius. A tiny little wetsuit. Must go surf for said item Right Now.
Also, as of Friday he's 6 weeks old.
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