baby daddy

Did I say toof? Shoot, dude, I shoulda said teef.

The day I after I noticed that thing growing out of your gums, it had popped through. The miraculous and painful hunk of porcelain had erupted (as they say) into your mouth, and that sucker is sharp! It’s like a little knife! I’m surprised you haven’t sliced off my finger when I went rooting around in there to see what it must feel like for you. Guess what else I found while was digging around in your mouth – another damn toof! You’ve got two!

And the day after I noticed the second one, the brother to the first, it too had jumped through your gums. And looking there now, you’ve got three! What’s your deal? You in a hurry to get through this whole baby thing? What you don’t have time to enjoy crapping your pants and drinking everything from a bottle? You need a girlfriend? You want a bike? You want a job, I’ll give you a job. How about a mortgage, we sure could use some help there. You name it, I’ll give it to you, but that just means you’re going to have to pull your own weight.

I need to take another look at the ingredients in your baby formula, ‘cause before we know it you’re going to have a moustache and a Camaro.

“He didn’t eat much today,” the babysitter told us. “It’s not like him.”

And it wasn’t. It’s not like you to not eat, little dude. It’s your favorite thing. It’s what you do best, and like all people who enjoy one thing or another, you always let us know your enjoyment by puking it up all over our clothes. And the couch. And the floor. And the carseat. And in the tub. (A little side note, here: When your mama carries you around she keeps an eye out for your tell-tale “I’m-gonna-puke” signs — hiccups, burps, that odd noise that rises in pitch coming from your throat — and moves quickly to the kitchen floor, where you normally make a wide splatter.)

You came home and kept up the strange behavior: you weren’t responding to us, and you kept sucking on your thumb. You ate just fine, but all the noises we made (and trust me, we made some noises. Your grandpa is hard of hearing and I’ve constantly worried that somehow, some way it would transfer to you, but you’ve passed all your hearing tests thus far, and you’ve always responded to the sounds around you, except this time) caused no alarm in you.

I figured you’d gone deaf.

Your mother’s been worrying about ear infections for weeks now and all your behavior has mirrored the descriptions in the books: decreased appetite, seeming loss of hearing, fussiness.

We weren’t sure if the doctor’s office was the correct route, especially since you’d been very responsive the morning we took you to daycare. We decided to let it go one more day.

The next day, upon picking you up, the daycare lady said: “He’s still not eating much. And he looks skinnier. It’s weird.”

So I took you home, finding ways to prepare your mama for a trip to the doctor’s office, well after visiting hours. I talked with you, played with you, changed your clothes and diapers, and fed you.

And somewhere in all that, I think I’ve found the culprit — the monster behind your behavior: The Little White Nubbin beginning its rise from your gums. A TOOTH!

It’s no wonder you’ve been behaving so strangely. You’ve got a rock in your mouth! You’ve got a calcium deposit erupting from your softest tissue! It’s slowly pushing its way into your mouth and you’ve no clue as to what the hell’s going on. I told you it was a toof! and you smiled, but then you stuck your hand in your moth. I said toof! and you smiled again, but there was that hand again.

You must be in a lot of pain, little guy, but you don’t really let anyone know. Guess that’s what we get after letting you poop blood for a month or two. For you, this must not be serious pain. You’re taking it very well and handling yourself with aplomb.

Nevertheless, we, as parents, need to celebrate this, and so I went out and bought you a gift in recognition of this achievement. It’s a bouncy-chair-thing, where you can pretend to stand up, and where you can bounce around. It’s full of toys and noise and I truly hope it will help take your mind off that unbearable pain in your face.

Seriously, little guy, you need to hold st

I said Hold still.

No, I don’t think you need to grab the shirts I’m putting on you.

Yes, I know it’s colorful. That’s why we bought it. It looks cool. just don’t grab the sleev

I mean it! Don’t grab the

Oh great. That’s just wonderful. Yes, just like you, I thought this shirt needed to be put in your mouth.

And the diaper, too. Yeah, that one. The one I laid out over the changing table. That was meant for your mouth, and not your butt. Glad you figured that out.

How’s it taste? You like the built-in baby-powder scent? I don’t know why they put it in the diaper. Seems kinda weird, don’t you think? I mean, sure, it smells like baby powerd, but what do you care? You put it in your mouth. Might as well smell like ham. I mean, you’re eating it, aren’t you?

Mmmm. Ham diapers.

Now put your leg down.

Yes, I know you can taste your foot, too. That’s awesome. Does it taste like ham or something? What am I missing here? Should I try to taste my own toes?

Ok, lemme give it a shot. ugh. Uugh! UUUUuugh! Yuck! Tastes like feet.

What else do you want to put in y

Oh, the diaper again. That’s nice. Good thing it’s the new diaper and not the one you were just wearing. That one had a poop stai

Oh.

Ok, now you’re pooping on the changing table. That’s great. Yeah, it’s pretty much just a big, flat diaper. Do what you need.

No, it’s cool. I’ll just stand here.

Why are you staring at me with such a serious look on your fa

Oh.

Ok.

Yeah, ok now you’re smiling. Does that mean that you’re done pooping on the

There’s that serious face again. Wh

Oh.

Hey, no problem. You’ve gotta poop, right? As long as it’s not on the

Ok, how’d you squirt that onto the carpet? You got a problem with the floor? What did the floor ever do to you? What, you got a scope on that thing or something? How hard does this have to be?

Ok. New diaper time. Let’s try this one on.

Yes, I know this is funny. Yes, it’s hilarious. Yes, I know you’re so cute. Can you put your legs down, please? It worries me.

Here’s the new diaper. Yeah it’s warm, I’ve been holding it while you made all that mess. Yes, I know, the new diaper is hilarious. You’ve never heard anything like it before.

Yes, it’s funny. Just put your legs down, and this will all be do

Oh.

You were trying to tell me something.

You were trying to say: “Hey, I stuck my foot in the mess of the last diaper!”

Why didn’t you just come out and say it? Sheesh. You make this so difficult. It’s fun, sure, and I’m laughing, too. Yes I am. Yes I am!

Ok, now that your foot is clean and you have the new diaper on, let’s get you ready to go to the babysitter. Mama and Daddy have to go to work.

Yeah, I know you want to come with us. And it’d be cool. We could probably get people to take care of you. Yes we could! But we really need to go. If daddy doesn’t leave here in a few seconds, he’ll literally be late for school.

Yes I know, your thumb is funny.

And I know you have gas.

And I know you like to kick a lot.

But I’ve got to go. Let’s just move you over to the car sea

Oh.

Thanks.

Thanks for barfing on my shirt.

And thanks for doing the “I’m-hiding-my-face-and-laughing-at-the-same-time” thing afterward. Let’s me know none of this was intentional; that you didn’t have any of this planned out beforehand.

On Thursday, you turned four months old. It was a pretty special occasion, because it was the same day your mama turned 348 months old. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, dude — “That’s really freaking old! I didn’t know people could get that old! Holy Cow! If I ever get that old, I hope someone is kind enough to just end it all for me.”

I thought the same thing when I was your age. As a matter of fact, you remind me a lot of me when I was your age — lots of unorchestrated movements, a bit of yelling, some tv watching and some staring straight off into the distance with no real goal or target in sight, and the fact that you’re a pretty big kid.

And I mean that with the best of intentions. No, I’m not saying you’re fat, or that you’re “big and tall,” but that you’re big. If it makes you feel any better, your mama and I wouldn’t have thought anything about your size until the doctor had to measure and remeasure and remeasure your height (then double-check it on the average growth chart), and then do the same thing with your weight.

Maybe the reason is because most kids who eat the formula you have to ingest don’t like it so much — and I don’t either; the best way I can describe it would be to say: “Take your shoes off and stick them in the microwave for ten minutes; scoop the goo into a cup and drink it” — and so they don’t gain an awful lot of weight.

But apparently you like the taste of liquid rubber, and that’s why you currently sport the following statistics (and those measurement’s percentile scores).

What’s a percentile?
It’s just part of one tile.

Anyway…
Weight: 17lb 9oz. (90th perctle.)
Height: 27″ (97th perctle.)

That’s a big kid. Seriously, you’re the height of the average 9 month old, and weigh as much as a 6 month old.

And we just thought the Carter’s and Osh Kosh B’Gosh folks had no idea how big a 3 month old actually was. And then we worried about their size charts for 6 months and 9 months as well, because all the clothes we bought you two weeks ago no longer fit. (It’s pretty interesting to take a guy like you into a store and buy him 12-month-old clothes and see the look on the cashiers’ faces when we correct them and say: no, he just turned 4 months old).

You’re just so goshdarn cute it makes me want to eat your huge face.