We spent a couple hours this afternoon laughing hysterically about teaching the baby to flip the bird the bird, and making lists of things that are better than being kept up all night by a crying baby including getting kicked in the head and getting hot wing sauce in your eye. (Dave has actually done this and said it’s bad, but not as bad as being kept up all night.)
I suppose it’s a positive thing that we are laughing about all this. Zekey’s 4 month birthday is tomorrow and our expectations are approaching rock bottom. He spent about an hour today lying quietly on a blanket in the living room and we started worrying that something was wrong with him.
Don’t get me wrong, the mellowness didn’t last. In fact, Dave is pacing the bedroom with him right now – trying to put him to bed for the fourth time tonight. I can come up with any number of excuses for Z’s latest fussiness: teething, a developmental leap that, according to the book The Wonder Weeks, lasts from about 15-19 weeks (only two more to go in that case… um… yay?), the change in the weather, the fact that we stopped swaddling him for bedtime, blah, blah, blah.
But I’m tired of hearing myself talk about this.
Today, we’re just going to laugh.