So someone at our house is a whopping six weeks old now.
Six weeks! I’m sure tomorrow he’ll be eating French fries, begging to practice the art of parallel parking the boy’s four-wheeler, and whining about math homework involving fractions. It happens, people. Little boys grow up, and then they are big boys, and then they go to kindergarten and break your heart, and then they are two months away from graduating from elementary school, which makes you realize that you’d probably feel more comfortable now in an institution where you can wear your bathrobe all day and throw green peas at the women in HER bathrobe who has the entire Volume B encyclopedia memorized from BABOON to BYSTANDER.
Because we know how quickly little boys grow up, Hubs and I are very conscious about rocking Thing 2 a little bit longer these days… and holding him a little bit closer these days. But we still holler out, “Good grief! This is stinking ridiculous!” when we open a diaper to find that our baby has pooped for SHEER VOLUME.
Thing 2 had his six-week check-up yesterday with Dr. B. He weighed in at 9 pounds, 7 ounces and was 20.75 inches long. Dr. B told us that these statistics put him in the 10th percentile for weight and the 20th percentile for height.
In other words… NOT SO VERY MUCH BIG.
No matter. Hubs and I lie to Thing 2 all the time and say, “You’re a BIG BOY! Oh, yes, you are!” And he likes hearing that, because he smiles.
And then Dr. B and two nurses and one physician’s assistant all gathered around him and agreed in full that Thing 2 was ONE OF THE VERY CUTEST BABIES in their practice. Hubs and I just nodded, because we already knew this. Thing 2 is the cutest baby boy since the boy arrived in 2000, and everyone tells us this.
The kid is seriously adorable.
And the sleeping? Well, I feel like I should quit typing for a moment and knock really hard on my wooden desk, because for the last three nights, Thing 2 has seemed to sort of nail this I NEED TO SLEEP WHEN IT IS DARK routine. I am really hesitant to say anything, because WHAT IF I JINX IT?
(Except Jesus doesn’t deal in jinxes.)
(But do you know what word scores a whole booger load of points in Words With Friends? It’s JINXES. Throw that one on a Triple Word Score, Golden Egg Tile and you’ll become a Words With Friends UNTOUCHABLE.)
(I speak from The Experience, because someone did that in a game against me rather recently. And then suddenly the score was HER: 2 million points… ME: Still just 62 points. Try to recover from THAT deficit.)
And steering back to Thing 2 from our JINXES tangent, I’ll just say that the kid is a ton of fun. He grins now, and he loves, loves, LOVES to have someone stick their tongue out and blow raspberries, so that he can watch it happen. Of course, we look like grown-ups who basically need to be institutionalized when we do it, but Hubs and I persevere, because looking goofy in front of Thing 2 makes him grin and grin and grin. And yesterday, while he was smiling from ear to ear because I kept sticking my tongue out at him, I touched his tongue with my finger and said, “You try!” And, people, OUR BABY GIGGLED OUT LOUD! He giggled! Oh yes! He did! And I laughed so hard, my sides hurt, and then it was all over, and no matter how hard I tried to grab his tongue and act silly for him again so that Hubs could witness the giggle too, Thing 2 just stared at me like I was a crazy lady.
I’m pretty sure he was thinking, “Lady, that was actually pretty funny the first time; I’ll give you that. But now you’re embarrassing me, and I hope this isn’t a glimpse of what will happen with you on the first day of kindergarten. Don’t embarrass me at school like this, Mom. Promise me now.”
Because, do you know what?
Hubs and I are fully aware that we’re going to BLINK TWICE, and Thing 2 will be dressed in jeans and a freshly-ironed, button-down shirt (thanks to his mama’s OCD), and he’ll take his Batman backpack into the doors of a big elementary school so that he can learn to spell really enormous words like BECAUSE.
Oh, it’s just two blinks away, people.
They’re having chicken fried steak and yellow Jell-O at the institution tomorrow, Hubs. Maybe we should get ourselves registered early. I’ll let you take the first shot with a spoonful of peas at the encyclopedia-reciter.