A Time for Giving

I've learned that the holidays are a time for both giving and receiving. Sure, it feels great to get something, but to give something is something special too.

Or so I've heard.

Mommy and Daddy have given me so much. Whenever I want milk, they get it. Whenever I need to be rocked asleep, they give me their arms. Whenever I want to be burped, they jump into action. Heck, whenever I want to be entertained, they're sticking their tongues out to me. Whenever I need a bath, they run the water. Whenever I poop, they get dirty with me to get me clean.

I've gotten so much from them, and I really truly desperately want to show my appreciation. But it's very hard to do that without a major credit card to your name.

So, Mommy and Daddy, I don't have anything to wrap up, but I've decided to give you what I've got. So, for tonight and tonight alone, I'm giving you six and half hours of uninterrupted sleep.

From me to you.

Thanks for everything.

Something to Stand On

Mommy gets excited over the stupidest things.

She called Auntie Pua over to see a new "trick" that I can do. Here it is. Please, grab onto something steady nearby, for this will be sure to knock your onesie off.

Okay, ready? Here goes it:

I'm laying down. She grabs my hands. She pulls me up. I stand. Mommy cheers.

Seriously, that's it. Tah. Dah.

I hate to break it to you, Mommy, but I've got two legs. And, through multiple experiments, I've learned that their purpose is to hold me up for 5-7 seconds max, after which they collapse underneath me like a jello statue during an earthquake. That's what they do. They're legs. Duh.

So your little trick is just life the way it's intended.

Although, come to think of it, your legs don't work like that. And Daddy's neither. Or anyone else's I see. Actually, legs seem to actually move in a scissor-like motion and they take you places.

Why do mine turn to jello?

Wait. Maybe this whole "standing up" thing really is something.

Let's aim for ten seconds this time.

The First Time

How dare you!

Who do you think you are!

Yes, I'm talking to you, so-called Mommy and Daddy.

How dare you abandon me with Gram and Grampa!

Oh, what, you couldn't handle me? Well baa-baa-baa. Cry me a formula, will ya? You got yourselves into this baby mess. Now you got to stick with it, day in and day out. But noooooo, that's too much for you, is it?

I am the center of your world. But I guess not anymore. Fine.

FINE! The knife cuts both ways, homey.

You know what? You can't handle the truth. That's what it's all about. And the truth is that I'm bigger than all of this. Oh yeah, I'm convinced this is for the best. Yeah, you heard me. You're weak and pathetic and...What? Mommy's on her way to pick me up?

Now?

Really?

It was only a one-night thing?

All they did was go on a date?

That was it?

Oh crap.

Where the delete button on this keyboard?

Sneaky Parents

The internet is a dangerous place for parents. It can give them all sorts of strange ideas. And I'm currently the guinea pig for a new experiment.

Mommy was reading that, by my third month, I should be sleeping through the night. However, I'm just giving them three or four hours at most. So Doctor Google told Mommy about a little trick.

When I wake up for the first time, Daddy is gonna pick me up, put my pacifier into my mouth and slowly rock me back to sleep. The thinking and hope is that each night, I'll sleep a little longer until I make it all the way through the morning.

They did this last night. They think I'm not onto them, but I know.

Even though it did work until I woke up 80 minutes later.

This is gonna cost them extra breast milk before I sleep. You can be sure of that.

Addition and Subtraction

Today was fun. Mommy, Daddy and I hustled our way over to Golden Gate Park, where we prepared the scene for our cousin Travis to propose to his girlfriend Kristen. She said yes, by the way.

I have a new cousin. How cool is that!

But with every addition, there's a subtraction. And somewhere in Golden Gate Park, my favorite pacifier, the yellow one, lies amid fallen leaves and dog poop.

Mommy and Daddy stuck a blue pacifier and a turquoise pacifier in my mouth, and I have to say that they aren't so bad and that I can live with them.

But, yellow pacifier, you will always have my heart.

And I didn't get a chance to say goodbye...until now.

(For extra emotional resonance, please cue "These Are Days" by 10,000 Maniacs for the following section. Thank you.)

Yellow Paci, I'll remember you well. You were there for me when I was born. You've always been there for me. I never betrayed you and you never betrayed me. Wherever I went, there you were. When I had a nightmare, like being attacked by a blob of poop or drinking pee from Mommy's breast, there you were to calm me down. I'll never forget you. You are my best friend, and I wish you well on your travels, wherever life might take you.

Fare thee well, my friend. Fare thee well.

The Mighty Four

It's too early for people to figure out what my talents are. I get that. But it's not too early for me to do talented things. And tonight, I brought it.

I did all these things within a two minute span. Witness my brilliance.

1. I peed in my diaper.
2. I spit up.
3. My nose produced a huge green runny bugger.
4. I farted.

That's four different types of grossness that came out of four different openings in just 120 seconds.

Your move, Copperfield.

Christmas Around the Country

Merry Christmas everyone! I'm sure you've already heard me caroling on your desktop, but in case you haven't yet, allow me to crawl inside your computer right now and sing it again.

But here's the cool thing: although I celebrated Christmas in Marin County, I was able to share it with my entire family using this thing called Skype, where no matter where my family is located, I can see them on my computer here where I can interact with them.

For example, I Skyped with Katie, Buddha, Auntie Jenn and Uncle Aaron. I don't know how they did it, but from San Diego, they somehow appeared on my computer and we had a nice conversation. I think they crawled into it, but that didn't seem right, and I don't see my Uncle Aaron as the crawling type.

Then I Skyped with Grandma and Grandpa in New York. I have no idea how they fit into my computer but they were really happy to see me. I guess they weren't that uncomfortable in there.

And then I Skyped with Uncle Mike, Aunt Sue, Nicky, Ava Rose and the gang in New York. Even Uncle Joe, Aunt Celeste, Alana and Marisa were there. It was like they were having a party in my computer. Trust me, I wanted to crawl inside of it and join them.

However, when the computer shut down, they all went away. And I had a great time with Mommy, Daddy, Gram, Grampa, Uncle Shannon, Auntie Nessa and Petra.

So, even though I was many miles away, I got to spend my first Christmas with everyone I love.

And who said infants don't understand the meaning of Christmas gifts?

Pressure Cooker

Mommy got a recipe for Aunt Celeste's lobster bisque. Although I've only been around for a little over two months, even I have heard about the extra deliciousness of that dish. Seriously, you have to hear Daddy talk wistfully about it. It's a meal he eats every Christmas Eve.

But this year is his first away from New York. And learning the recipe is where Mommy's generosity and selflessness comes in. Which means that Mommy had a daunting task in front of her.

I was with her when she got all the ingredients. I was with her when she double checked them with Aunt Celeste. I was with her when she worried about whether or not it would come close to the original.

And I watched her make it in Gram's kitchen.

Daddy had three bowls. So did Grampa. Gram doesn't like seafood, but she loved this bisque. And Mommy had a bowlful.

Unfortunately, I'm too young to taste bisque. My body can't digest anything other than breast milk or formula.

But I will say that my dinner had a different flavor to it today, and I wanted more.

Here's Looking At You, Kid

Tonight, Mommy and Daddy sat down to watch a movie that Daddy said is one of the all-time greats. It's called "Casablanca" or something.

Anyways, the three of us sat on the couch together, with my parents on each side of me. And I watched the lights and colors move on the TV set for awhile. And although the story of lost loves finding each other in World War II Morocco is an appealing topic, I just couldn't keep my eyes open.

Then Daddy held me in my arms and Mommy snugged up beside him and the three of us were one. Every so often, they would sneak kisses on top of my head. I'd kick my foot with appreciation. They felt so warm. It was warm.

Although I didn't make it through the movie, the entire time I felt like I was in a fairy tale.

I've got a lot to look forward to.

They're Back

Dear Mommy and Daddy.

I didn't mean to cry all day. Truly, I didn't. Normally, when I cry, I'm just communicating, and you're able to read that, but today was different.

Although the pain was in my gums, as those teeth crawl their way through, I felt it throughout my whole body. That's why my legs tightened and went straight. That's why I swung my arms. And that's why my hands were always in my mouth.

I appreciate all the medicine you gave me but it just wasn't enough. Trust me, I tried to make them work, but there wasn't a part of my body that wasn't agonizing.

I hope this isn't a recurring thing. But if it is, I'm apologizing now for my crying later.

Don't take it personally.

Love,
The Teething One

Sunday Best

With all the traveling Daddy's been doing for work, and with Mommy and me going to San Diego and then to Marin and having different parties and obligations, well, our family unit just hasn't had any time to, you know, just be a family unit.

That's what made today so special.

We began the day with Daddy taking pictures of me while Mommy played with my legs. Then, Daddy held me and we had a staring contest (I won). Then I pooped, and it was fun to clean because I trust them. Then Mommy fed me. And then I sat in my swing seat and watched Mommy and Daddy clean the house. Then Daddy and I watched some football. And then Mommy read to me. And then I slept while they ate.

We just haven't had many days like this, where we really accomplished nothing but accomplished everything.

Nice.

We Party Too

Mommy and Daddy took me to one of their adult parties tonight. This consisted of a bunch of couples drinking wine while eating cheese and salads and pastas and desserts. They were laughing and playing games and making conversation.

Oh yeah, there were other children there. But we were, for the most part, cast to the side in our carseats and playpens.

Well, little do our parents know that when infants are in direct contact with other infants, we can communicate. You might think we're crying or cawing, but it's actually conversation.

We party too.

For example, it wasn't gas we were having. It was a farting contest, and I took home the championship.

And then, a burping contest (which had a contested ending).

We all laughed when my Daddy stood up and his buttcrack was showing. Then the other kids told me that happens to their Daddies too. So at least I know my Daddy isn't alone in his fashion incompetence.

I learned that although I'm proud to be able to get my poop up behind my ear, that it's also possible to get poop inside your ear. Someone here actually did that. I've got something to aim for.

We all love Mylocin. In fact, after a while, it started to sound like a Mylocin Anonymous meeting.

All in all, it was enlightening.

But here's the most most enlightening thing: we all agreed that our parents think they know us, but they really don't. They have an inkling, but there's much more they don't know than what they do.

But they're trying their best.

And there's nothing more we could ask for.

Although it would be nice if our Daddies picked up their pants every once in awhile.

60 More Years Than Me

Today, Grampa turned sixty, and we celebrated his birthday.

Sixty is a big number to comprehend, especially for someone who can't even count to one.

Heck, I can't even count to zero.

Luckily, I was able to get my hands on a calculator when nobody was looking.

Grampa has been alive for 21,841 more days than I have. That's 718 more months. 524,184 hours. 31,451,040 more minutes.

He's got a lot more experience in this life than I do. He's done a lot, and there's so much that interests him. And because he's seen and done so much, the entire planet is open to him. And yet, whenever I'm around, I've got his undivided attention. Because, in his world, to this man who has been on this planet for 1,887,062,400 more seconds than I've ever lived, I'm the most important person in the world to him. Me. Who's just 74 days old.

Wow.

I'm a pretty lucky kid.

Dad's Got Hops

My Dad claims that he's gained about 20 pounds since I was born. Considering that I've just begun to be able to focus in on him a couple of weeks ago, I can't verify that fact is true or not.

But whether it's true or not, I can verify firsthand that my dad's got some athleticism in him.

It's late night. Mommy and Daddy are on each side of me in bed. They're making faces at me and I'm trying to do what they do. It's a fun game. I'm getting better at it.

At some point, I fall asleep. Then Mommy falls asleep. And then, Daddy. He shuts the light, and the three of us are together. (By the way, this was a special treat. I'm not allowed in bed until 7 or so).

Then Mommy and Daddy hear a crinkling of paper. They turn on the light but see nothing. Daddy thinks it's just the fan blowing on some receipts. Then they shut the lights off again.

That's when I saw my Daddy use his hops.

When he felt the mouse crawling on his back, I couldn't believe how quickly and how high that fat man could jump. Seriously. I was so impressed that I forgot to be scared. And the goosebumps on his back looked like a mountain range.

We spent the night in the living room, with me on Mommy's chest as we slept on the glider while Daddy took residence on the couch.

And as I dreamed, I dreamed of Daddy being able to jump to the moon.

Just put a mouse on him. It'll be possible.

Gum Razors

Today was not a good day for me. All I did was cry, cry, cry. It’s a new cry, and I cried for hours. I couldn’t stop.

No I don’t want to be fed.

No, I don’t have gas.

No, I don’t need to be burped.

No, I am clean.

It hurts. It really hurts. Help me.

So I went to the doctor, and I overheard Mommy and her talking. They said what I was feeling were sharp things breaking through my gums.

Something they call teeth.

Whatever they are, I hate ‘em.

Rain Woman

When it rains, Mommy and Daddy put a clear plastic cover over my stroller. I don’t mind that. My vision isn’t that great anyway. Still, I’m not a fan of the rain.

Anyway, it isn’t raining here, but it is in Santa Cruz. Bad rain. So Gram and Grampa decided to end their trip early and drive on back. Which meant that I got a chance to spend an entire day with Gram while Mommy went out and did some chores.

And by chores, I meant yoga class.

Oh, the fun we had. She sang to me and burped me and she smiled at me and I smiled back.

But here’s something I wanted to talk about: Auntie Pua was holding me when Mommy was getting ready for their yoga class. Now, my Auntie Pua will do anything for me. She loved me so much. But I did find a boundary. When I projectile barfed all over her, she held me away from her like I was a skunk. I know she loves me and doesn’t think of me that way, but I got her good. Real good. Then I barfed all over Mommy – on her shirt, on her boobies, everywhere. I was real good with my aim.

Unfortunately, they had to leave right then and there to head to yoga class, so you know who cleaned me?

Gram.

I love her.

Thank you, rain. I think I’m changing my mind about you.

The joys of airline traveling

When I cry, Mommy and Daddy have to figure out what I want. Instantly. And, to be honest, they’ve become rather good at it. I’m either hungry, tired, dirty with poop or full of gas. Help me now. And they do.

But, now that I’m seeing more of the outside world, I’m understanding that being instantly tended to is not how the world works. My first lesson in this is that our plane was cancelled in San Diego. I don’t really know what that means other than we were stuck there. Now, I really wanted to go home and hang out in my bassinet and be held in the glider. But it wasn’t going to happen sooner rather than later.

I thought about crying about it, but I looked around and saw that none of those things that I wanted was around. So what could you do?

I just fell asleep and dreamt of everything I wanted.

Eventually, we got on a plane and headed back to San Francisco.

And all was right in my world.

King of the Fleetwood

For dinner, Mommy and Daddy took me to the Uncle Aaron's bar/restaurant, The Fleetwood. He was there, and was so proud of me that he took me around and introduced me to everyone in the bar. That means I met the chef, the sous chef, the bartenders, the wait staff, the regulars, the football fans, the hotties wearing skin-tight jeans, their underwhelming boyfriends in their idiot attire, the ticket scalpers, the firemen, the bouncers and the cougars waiting for their young prey to walk in.

I was too young for them (but barely).

And even when I stopped being paraded around, random people would come up to me and tell me what a nice boy I was. How good looking I am. And they would do baby talk to me. Sometimes, if they seemed nice enough, Mommy and Daddy would let them hold me.

I think I can get used to this bar scene.

But, at least once every half hour, Uncle Aaron would pick me up and show me off again. It made me proud of him that he was so proud of me. I couldn’t have felt any more love.

And, at the end of the night, the two chefs dedicated their karaoke song to me. Of course, it was the worst version of “Bohemian Rhapsody” ever, but to me, it was the best.

Bismillah!

Buddha's Birthday

Seems like everyone has their birthday in December. The reason we flew down was to help Buddha celebrate her fifth birthday. All her friends where there, and Katie too, and they had so much fun.

I, however, just sat there, taking it all in.

You see, I was too small to participate. I can’t eat pizza. I can’t put frosting on my cookies. I can’t sing “Happy Birthday to You”. I can’t open gifts. And I can’t compete in a dance-off.

But that’s okay. I was taking mental notes.

Eating Pizza – When I get a chance, I think I’ll eat pizza New York style, just like my Daddy. That means folding it in half and sticking as much of it in and letting the grease singe the roof of your mouth.

Frosting on my Cookies – Everyone else tried to make Christmas trees or snowmen with their frosting. But when I get a chance, I’m just gonna slather the cookie with as much frosting as possible. It looks delicious.

Singing Happy Birthday – I’m gonna sing it louder and more off-key than anyone else. I learned that from my Mommy.

Opening gifts – I’m gonna do this slowly, just to build up the suspense. Call me a tease. I don’t care. And it’ll make the gift opening ceremony last a little bit longer.

And the Dance-Off – I saw a bunch of kids jumping up and down and getting their groove on. That’s gonna be hard for me to compete with. That’s why I’ll have to use props, like a table or a lampshade. If you can’t beat them with rhythm, beat them with comedy.

Santa Who?

Mommy, Auntie Jenn and Auntie Pua took me, Katie and Buddha to the mall to see this person they call Santa Claus. Let me break this dude down: Fat jolly male. White hair. White beard. Chubby cheeks. Wore a red and white outfit. Comes around once a year. And his breath smells of bourbon.

Anyways, I gathered that this was the dude who was gonna give me gifts at Christmas, but he also told me that I had to be good in order to be on that list. Hey, as long as you don’t ask my diapers, you’ll find that I’m a good kid, Santa.

He asked me what I wished for. I thought about that. Deeply. Intensely. Mommy read my expression as that I was just chillin’ out, but I was actually in heavy thought. I mean, here’s my one chance to get anything I want, and I’m put on the spot as everyone takes my picture. Now that’s pressure. You try to come up with something good in that situation.

But I did.

And this Santa guy, well, he’s full of magic because, although I can’t speak, he still listened to my wish – and he actually brought it early. Because later that night, it arrived: he flew my Daddy here from San Francisco.

Now that’s a Christmas miracle.

Best Mommy Ever

Today was a day of many firsts for me.

To begin with, for the first time, I’ll be leaving San Francisco proper. The furthest I’d ever been was Petaluma, but now, it was time to go somewhere that a short car ride wouldn’t take us. So Mommy and Auntie Pua packed my bags and hustled me to the aiport, where we boarded a plane to San Diego.

It was my first time going through a metal detector. I came out clean.

It was my first time on a plane. I aced that.

It was my first takeoff and landing. I slept through that.

It was my first time visiting my cousins Katie and Buddha in their own house.

It was my first time going to the Fleetwood, which is my family’s bar/restaurant located right next to Petco Park.

And it was my first time that I was in a vehicle that didn’t have a base for my car seat. Mommy printed out the directions, and she tightened me up in the back seat using the seatbelts and what looked to be some sort of a pulley system. She was really anal about it.

Anyway, it was a good thing she was, because a couple of minutes later, I got into my first car accident. Some woman rear-ended us. Took us for a jolt. Did little damage to our rental, but still, the car took it.

Then again, that’s only what I heard what happened. I was sound asleep when it happened. I was so strapped in that I never knew what hit us. Mommy was upset for me, of course, but she failed to realize what an amazing job of protecting me she did before we even began to drive.

Thank you, Mommy, for doing that.

I love you so very much.

Cellphones

There’s this thing they call cellphones. It’s a device that Mommy and Daddy put to their ears and talk into. I’m not really sure how it works or why they have to do that. But they do it. A lot.

I think it’s some sort of magic.

Today, Mommy put the phone right in front of me, and I heard a voice. A familiar voice. A voice I’d come to know and love. And then I heard the song “Inky Dinky Spider” and…wait, Gram? Is that you? Where are you?

And then I heard Grampa’s deep voice.

But where were they? How come they weren’t looking at me?

It seemed to be coming from this phone that Mommy held. Maybe the phone ate Grampa and Gram, and they were trapped inside? Mommy, shake that phone and get them out.

No. That’s silly.

But I stared at it, wondering, trying to figure it out how it sounded like Gram and Grampa but…it’s not Gram and Grampa.

You know, there are some things in the world you just shouldn’t question. This magical phone is one of them. All I know is that it brings me closer to the ones I love. And that means I love it back.

360 Minutes

I decided to use Mommy as a prop for a theory that I’ve been working on for a couple of days. So, at the end of the day, I’ve been clamoring to eat in clusters. Meaning, I’ll eat smaller ounces but with more servings. So, instead of my usual “Three Hours for Two Boobs” regimen that’s been working out, I’ll take 2 ounces of formula here, then an hour later, I want boob. Then ninety minutes later, gimme 3 ounces of formula. And then, before I sleep, more boob.

Smaller feedings, more servings.

Mommy was worried about it, thinking that I was becoming an overeater, but like I said, this was a theory I was working on, and it was time to turn it into practice.

And look what happened: Six straight hours of uninterrupted sleeping.

You see, by clusterfeeding, I’m filling myself up, thereby eliminating the need to be fed every three hours at night. So, even though Mommy and Daddy are semi-sleeping, waiting for me to cry for hunger, there I am, completely asleep, dreaming about mobiles.

What else did you think we dreamed about?

Back to Basics

Grandma and Grandpa left to go back to New York today. We spent our last couple of hours taking a bunch of photos and with them holding me and kissing me. Grandma was upset. I can tell that she cried right before she came over. This morning, when I was crying because I was hungry, well, that was only half of it. I’m with you.

Now, with them heading back to New York and with Gram and Grampa away down south, I’m left with just Mommy and Daddy. I gotta tell you, it’s nice to spend some time with the family unit. We bonded. We sat on the couch and communicated with each other. I cried. They tended to me and made me feel better. It was exactly what I needed: some down time.

I also pooped my brains out. A large, smelly, somewhat solid poop that filled up one diaper, and then its replacement when I decided I wasn’t done. Yep, it took three diapers to get me clean. There were wet naps everywhere. I even got some poop on my sock, and then on my foot.

If my poops were an Olympic event, this one would have been a medal contender.

It would have been the Michael Phelps of poop.

Ten More Months

A day after my two-month birthday party, I went to my friend Christian’s one-year birthday party. It was great. Good food, nice people, my immediate family was there and I got a good look at what’s probably in store for my first birthday party.

We’re talking a Radio Flyer.

Probably some games that squeak and light up.

Something sporty, like a basketball and a hoop I can dunk on.

Some cool clothes.

Right now, there’s just not much I can play with. But today, I see my future, and it’s full of things to bang and ride and cause a ruckus with.

Just ten months to go. Hurry up!

Gift Giving

Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday, dear meeeeeee. Happy Birthday to me.

That’s the song everyone sang to me today, except they used my name. I just stared at them and wondered what the fuss is about. Hey, I’m just two months old. What’s the biggie?

But I guess it is a biggie, because we had cake a couple of nights ago at Gram and Grampa, and now we celebrated again with just Mommy, Daddy, Grandma and Grandpa.

I’ve heard through the umbilical cord that you’re supposed to get gifts for your birthday. But I’ve got more gifts that I can handle. So, for this birthday, I decided to take a different tact.

Around 8 PM, everything started to go wrong for Mommy and Daddy. The area
underneath the sink was overflowing with water. Daddy absentmindedly used some good pots to clean it out. The trash compactor stopped working. We had a mouse friend who came to visit. Mommy put bleach in the good pot to clean it but learned that there was a leak, so she got bleach on the kitchen countertop. And Daddy and Grandpa wanted to watch the big fight but couldn’t find it on the internet.

So I decided to give Mommy and Daddy the biggest gift possible: I didn’t cry. I didn’t want to be held. I didn’t need to be burped. And I didn’t need to be fed.

I just sat there and watched them do their thing and did my best to keep out of the way.

For everything they’ve given me, it’s the least I could have done.

Date Night

With Grandma and Grandpa here to take care of me, Mommy and Daddy decided to go on a “date night”, which involves getting dressed up, going out to dinner, catching a movie and then having a couple of drinks. Seems kinda lame to me, but what do I know? I’m just two months old (almost).

What Mommy and Daddy don’t realize, however, that it’s also “date night” for me, Grandma and Grandpa. That means we can spend some quality time together and really get to know each other.

We began by communicating. Grandpa would sing to me. Grandma would babytalk to me at a high pitch. And I would cry “hulla, hulla, hulla” and they would correctly interpret it that I’m hungry.

Then we played. Grandpa and Grandma would make funny faces at me, and they would stare at all the funny faces I made right back at them, which they would interpret as smiling, but which I secretly knew was gas.

And then I decided to play a joke on them. I made believe that I went to sleep. And then Grandma put me back in my bassinet. As they watched TV, I would make these noises – or caws, like an owl – and Grandma would get up and check on me. Now, Mommy and Daddy call my bluff on these caws, but with Grandma being a newbie at watching me, well, she was as gullible as all get out.

I cawed about seven times. And she checked on me about seven times.

You would think she would get the point.

She did not.

Or maybe she just liked to look at me.

Good times.

Yep. I'm A Dude

Mommy and Daddy took me to the doctor's office for yet another checkup. This time, however, the doctor had two medical students in with her to observe and practice on me. Usually, I take the attitude that I'm not a piece of meat, and I don't like doing things twice.

But this time, one of the med students was a chick, and she was kinda cute.

Va-va-voom!

So when Daddy took off my onesie so the doctor could check me out, I made sure I was always flexing, so the med student could check me out too. And when the doctor checked my throat by placing a flat wooden stick on my tongue, I shook it off like it was nothin'. And I showed her what I had to offer with the way I smoothly moved around on the tissue paper on the examination table.

But then came the final test of my burgeoning manhood...two vaccinations.

Two needles.

One in each leg.

Zero tears.

You heard that right.

Zero. Tears.

She had to be impressed. Had to. I know I made my point.

If I had a man musk, I'd know she'd be digging it. And I know that if I had a driver's license, a car, a bachelor pad, a credit card and a solid "in" with the best restaurants in the city, let's just say...whoop whoop.

A New Frontier

At night, I've been taking three hour naps. Then, I'll wake up, eat, burp, have my diaper changed, then go back to sleep for another three hours. That seems to have been working for me. But it's not great for Mommy and Daddy. It's wearing them down. I can see it from all the angel dust in their eyes when they pick me up at 4 AM.

They never complain about it. They just do it with a smile because they love me so much.

So, after much self-deliberation, I decided to give them a nice little gift, from me to them.

I took a five hour nap tonight.

You heard me. Five hours. That's 300 minutes. And I followed that up with a four hour nap.

Which means that, instead of Mommy and Daddy waking up twice during the night, they only had to wake up once.

And who says infants can't say "I love you too".

Big Boy

After five weeks of not seeing them, Grandpa and Grandma flew all the way from New York to spend another six days with me. Which means that, for the next 144 hours, I'll be continuously held, kissed and loved. I've been looking forward to that, actually.

What I wasn't expecting was the look of surprise on their faces when they saw me again.

"Oh my god, Wyatt! You got so big!"

Look, I've been through my growing pains, remember? I kept Mommy and Daddy up with my tribal yells. I kicked and punched and squirmed and cried. I didn't do that for my health. I did that for my height.

And I'm only, like, 22 inches tall. Any sort of growth is gonna be extreme.

So, of course I was too cute to leave alone, and when they picked me up and hugged me and smothered me with love, I dove right into heaven.

And all I kept thinking was, "Oh my god, Grandma and Grandpa! You look so small because now I'm bigger and everything is decreasing in size relative to me!"

Getting Back Before It Happens

When Daddy holds me while sitting in the glider, he'll prop me up at a 45 degree angle or such, and my head will rest on top of his armpit, my back will be supported by his forearm and my bum held by his hand. It's really quite comfortable, and the angle gives me a direct view into his eyes for our daily staring contest.

This is also the posture in which he'll feed me.

As he does this, at some point, I'll poop. It'll be a very messy and wet poop. It's the byproduct of all my strength and willpower. I am very proud of these poops.

And I know that my Daddy knows, because through my diaper, onesie and blanket, he'll still be able to feel the reverberations in his hand.

I'll poop four or five times like this in a sitting. And he'll know each time.

The reason I'm bringing this up now is because I want my Daddy to know that when he asks me to pull his finger, and I do, and he farts, I don't want him to think he's getting one over on me. He's not.

I'll be too far ahead for that.

Bigger Than I Was Yesterday

This ain't fair.

Mommy and Daddy, they're done growing. They've stopped. They don't have to deal with their bones enlarging. Or their skin stretching. Or their whole frame expanding.

No, they can just lay there in their beds, comfortable in their own bodies, and wonder what the heck is going on with me, and why I'm crying with so much pain.

No, Mommy, I don't have gas.

No, Daddy, there's no poop down there.

And no, Mommy, I don't want your boob right now.

I just want this growing stage to stop.

Make it stop!

Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree

Mommy and Daddy drove me all the way up to Petaluma to go shopping for something called a Christmas tree. Seems that there's this big holiday coming up, and one of the prerequisites for celebrating it is that you put some large shrubbery in your living room. So that's what we were doing up there. Searching for large shrubbery.

They had a great many trees on this lot, all of different sizes and shapes. Mommy worked with Grampa and Gram and Auntie Vanessa and Petra to find just the right tree for our living room. Of course, I was given the right of final approval, and we found one that was nicely full and symmetrical (a word I learned today).

Then it was up to Daddy to saw it down. Slowly. Eventually. Unevenly. But I was able to learn what it is to be a real man of the earth, as I looked past Daddy and watched two guys use a chainsaw to chop down their own tree. Daddy, embrace modern technology. It's yours for the taking.

Anyways, we couldn't fit it on the Prius because, you know, it's a Prius. So Petra took it to her place for Daddy to pick up tomorrow.

But I have an idea about how Mommy's gonna decorate it.

And if it has lights on it, it'll be the best big shrubbery ever.

In Defense of Motored Vehicles

My parents drive a brand new Prius. It's silver. I sit in the back seat, strapped snugly right in the middle. It's quite silent. It handles really well. And my parents listen to really great music while they're driving.

After my yellow pacifier and my Mylocin, it's my favorite thing in the world.

Drive me anywhere, and it'll put a smile on my face. Calms me down. Puts me asleep. Takes me on a nice trip away from whatever troubles I might have. It's not a car. It's a dream machine.

Sometimes, when we approach the house, I'll begin to cry hysterically. Not because I need anything urgently, mind you, and not because I'm in great duress, but because I'll quiet down if Mommy and Daddy just drives around some more.

Yep, I've turned Mommy and Daddy into those people.

Suckers.

Giving Thanks

Today is Thanksgiving, and my 53 days on this planet have given me much to be thankful for. He's my humble little list:

I am thankful for my Mommy and Daddy, who have given up their sleep and independence to cater to my every whim and need.

I am thankful for my grandparents, who are succeeding in their lifelong tasks of spoiling me to no end.

I am thankful for aunts and uncles and cousins who are setting amazing blueprints of what I can become.

I am thankful for the proper genetics that allows my Mommy to have two boobs for me to suck from.

I am thankful for Mylocin and the amazing hallucinations it gives me.

I am thankful for the way my head fits perfectly in my parents arms that allows me to fall asleep.

I am thankful for my poop and pee and the wonderful ways I use them for attack purposes.

I am thankful for my argyle sweater that makes me look so damned hot.

I am thankful for the days when I don't have diaper rash.

And, most importantly, I am thankful for my yellow pacifier. Not my blue or purple one. My yellow one with green handles. Only that one.

Tuxedoed Friends

Mommy and Auntie Jenn took me to the new museum in the park where we met Gram, Grampa, Uncle Aaron, Auntie Nessa, Uncle Shannon, Petra and my two cute cousins, Katie and Buddha. There was a long line outside, due to the museum just reopening and with today the day before something called Thanksgiving.

Eventually, we got in.

Every so often, I'd like to throw curveballs at everyone. When Mommy decided to take me here, she figured that walking me around would put me to sleep. That it would calm me and get my mind off pooping or eating. That all the bright lights would take their toll on me.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

I dug all the exhibits. Animals are cool. If I were able to read (or have someone read the signs to me), I'd have an idea about their genetic makeups, their histories, their homes and their mating habits. But that's okay. Furry things look cool.

But what blew me away were the penguins. There was one penguin that made sure his family had everything (like Daddy), and he brought supplies back to the Mommy penguin, who was taking care of their children (like me). It was easy to see their teamwork in action. And now, I think I kinda get what the whole dynamic is at home.

And I think that's kinda cool.

I Am Beloved

I learned something very crucial today.

You see, I've got two very cute first cousins, both of them girls, whom I didn't meet until today. (Yes, it's "whom" and not "who". It's never too early to learn the difference). Anyways, I've heard many things about them, heard them sing to me over the phone, saw photos of them and awaited their arrival anxiously. And when they arrived, that's when I learned this:

When surrounded my cousins who love you and can't get enough of you, your skin becomes just a soft layer to absorb and save their endless run of kisses.

How cool is that?

First Shot

Nobody told me about needles.

Look, when I came out of the warm place, I was stuck with a bunch of needles by all those nurses. And, to be honest, I thought it was over. I thought my time as a pin cushion was all done with.

Oh no. Liars. All of them. All of you.

So Mommy took me to the doctor, whose route by car I am beginning to memorize and will begin terrorizing the ride in a very short manner, and I was given a shot. Right in the leg. Needle in and needle out.

That hurt. That was unexpected. That was not fun. So, I began to voice my displeasure as loud as I can, so every infant in the waiting room would know what was coming for them behind these closed doors. Hopefully, one of them heard and made a dash for it to freedom.

Anyways, while I was making the most disruptive commotion I could possibly summon from my 12 and a half pound body, something amazing happened. Something unexpected. Something fun.

Mommy stuck her breast into my mouth.

Sweet, sweet manna from booby. My delicious milk from the fountain of wonderful. My white-colored life blood. My liquid human dessert. My...well, you get the point.

It was the most amazing meal I ever had.

And I can't remember what happened right before that.

Wyatt's Law

While at brunch with Mommy, Daddy and their friends, I began to cry. But it wasn't just a normal cry. This cry was award winning. Ear piercing. Avalanche causing. And I didn't stop.

Mommy fed me boob, but that wasn't it. Daddy burped me, but that didn't work. I just woke up, so I wasn't sleepy. So Mommy held my butt up to her nose, and hell yes.

Still, they were perplexed. I had pooped and cried before, but not as loud as this. So Mommy and Daddy left and began walking me up the big hill to the car. But still, with each step, I cried louder and louder. Uncontrollably. So impossibly loud that Daddy had to run up to the car and drive down to me and Mommy. He opened the trunk, laid down a pad, put a clean diaper underneath me and opened up what I was wearing to take a look.

If you're eating, I ask you to please put your food down and take a seat. If you're one with a weak stomach, I ask of you to move on to the next post. If your poop smells like roses and dandelions, then you have a serious problem and should seek medical attention.

Not only did I poop my pants - and this was a royal world-class poop, by the way - but I was able, through my superhuman powers, to also poop all the way up my back, even managing to squirt a couple of kernels behind my ear.

Yes sir. My poop defied gravity.

So, for every science book that preaches Newtown's Law of "what goes up must come down", let me introduce you to Wyatt's Law: "What comes out can also go up".

Also, an addendum to that law: When I get to be over 12 pounds, upgrade my diapers.

Everything Looks Cute On Me

Mommy, Daddy and Auntie Pua took me shopping, and by shopping, I mean that they hold up clothes and say "Wouldn't he look cute in this!" followed by Daddy complaining that it's got buttons because he can't handle the complicated process of snapping one end into the other, and then Mommy looks at the sizes and can't believe that someone my age can fit into something so big, and then Auntie Pua finds something even cuter for me to wear, and then the process begins all over again, and I sit there watching them, wondering how in the hell they ever get anything done.

Still, they did find my Christmas outfit. And I gotta say, there wasn't a word of debate about it.

But like any good snowman worth his salt, I can't wait to make that white snow yellow.

And you know I will, diaper or not.

Hear Me Out

Mommy and Daddy can claim that they know my different cries and what they mean. And, I gotta say, they pretty much nail it about 82% of the time, which isn't bad for two people who don't speak infant. So, for a primer for the rest of you, here's a quick read of what I'm trying to say:

I'm hungry = "Oooooohwahhh, oohwah, oohwaah, ewaaaaaah, hulla, hulla, hulla." (repeat until fed)

I've just soiled myself = "Waah, waah, waah, sniff sniff, waah, waah, sniff." (repeat until naked)

This gas is making me uncomfortable = "Eeeeuhh eeeuhh, waaah, waah waah, sniff, sniff". (repeat until burped)

I'm tired and leave me alone = "ooooommmm, ah, ah, ah, oom oom, waaaaah, waaaah." (repeat until REM)

You'll be tested on all this.

My First Cold Not

I wasn't able to sleep much last night. It seems that every time I put my head down flat on the bassinet, I would get all congested in my nose. And considering I don't breathe through my mouth yet, congestion wouldn't be good.

I sounded like there was a loose rattle somewhere inside my nostrils.

And because I was uncomfortable, Mommy and Daddy were uncomfortable. Even when they sat me upright, it was better, but the rattle was still there.

They took me to Doctor Google, and he predicted that I had my very first cold.

So Daddy took me to the real doctor today, and well, I didn't have my very first cold. What had happened was that some milk went down the wrong pipe and some of it was just lingering around. It's no big deal. No cold. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to see here.

Take that, Doctor Google.

Reunited

Well, it's been all fun and games for the past couple of days, hanging out with Mommy, Grampa and Gram up in Marin. I've been hiking, eating, pooping, sleeping and watching Grampa blowing tiny bubbles out of his lips.

But now it's time to go back to the apartment because Daddy's on his way back home.

You know, he's been gone for five whole days. That's like 1/8th of my entire life. That's a pretty big chunk of change there. And considering that I can't remember what I ate for breakfast this morning (and the options are only between breasts and formula), it'll be like a stranger walking into the house. You know, a stranger with curly hair, curly chest hair, straight short hair coming out of his nose, straight short hair coming out of his ears...a stranger who looks like me.

I miss that guy.

I can't wait for him to change my diaper tonight.

Grampa's Dirty Mind

While at Gram and Grampa's house, I decided it was time to spread my love around. So when Gram was changing my diaper, it was a perfect opportunity to do what I do best: pee directly up in the air and try to aim at whatever's around. This time, I hit Gram right in her glasses. Yes, I'm that good.

Anyways, Grampa saw this and yelled something so strange that it took everyone for a loop. He said, and I quote, "You gave Gram a Golden Shower!" Mommy then yelled "Gross!" at him, and Gram hit him in the arm.

But what is this "Golden Shower" that Grampa speaks of?

So, when nobody was looking, I got on Google. (What, you think someone six weeks old doesn't know how to surf the web?) I took a guess at how to spell "Golden Shower". And then this came up as a selection.

Grampa, we need to have a chat.

First off, I'm still an infant. Although slime like this might exist in the world, I don't need to know that it does. Allow me the freedom of living in a world where something like that could never happen from one human to another unless that person was really asking for it and you couldn't get caught doing it.

Secondly, this was my Gram I was peeing on. It's a rite of passage, a sign of love. I can't figure out how you would tarnish the sanctity of that bonding experience.

Third, how the hell did you know what a "Golden Shower" was to begin with?

And fourth, I think I might need to hang out with you a little more often.

Take a Hike

Mommy packed me into her Baby Bjorn and took me on a hike with Gram. It was fun. I got to see the sun, some flowers, parched trails, hills, sand, grass and all things that have to do with nature. And the weather was beautiful. I'm beginning to believe that I'm gonna become an outside person. Living in California will do that to you.

One of these days, I'll be able to do this with Gram. Maybe it'll be our thing to do together. That is, if she doesn't leave me somewhere in the dust. That woman can motor.

Sweet Nectar From the Gods

Whenever I begin to cry and start kicking my legs, it's my way of telling Mommy and Daddy that I've got gas. So they'll sit me down, lean me forward, pat my back and wait for me to burp. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't.

Daddy will then take the next step of throwing me over his shoulder and patting my back. That rarely works, but I like how it feels.

So, when everything fails, and I'm still kicking and screaming, they'll then drop a couple doses of something called Mylicon into my mouth.

Let me tell you about Mylicon: It smells and tastes like bubble gum. It goes down real easy. It works immediately. And it's the most wonderful thing in the world. My eyes roll back. I kick my feet up in relaxation. I sprout wings and fly around. And if I were able at this early age to, you know, make it rise from 6 to 12 (if you know what I mean), Mylicon would be the thing that would allow that to happen.

So, the next time you see me kicking and screaming, ask yourself: is he gassy or is he looking for a quick fix?

Holy crap. Just typing about it gets me...you know...wow.

Shown Off

I'm beginning to get the feeling that I'm being used.

Mommy and Daddy invited their friends Uncle Will and Aunt Kristine over because their other friends, John and Becky, were in town. I met everyone, and everyone got a chance to hold me at some point. And everyone made googly eyes at me and told me how perfect I was and so on and so forth. And when I went to sleep, supposedly that was a cue for everyone to go home.

And that got me thinking: I believe I am a pawn in Mommy and Daddy's neverending quest of impressing everyone they know. They hold me up as a tribute of what they can create if they put their minds to it. I am the very best they can do, and they're damn proud of it.

And that got me feeling mighty flattered.

Argyle. Who Knew?

Daddy had to take off for a work trip, and that left me with Mommy to go to a party in Marin for some family friends. It was their 40th wedding anniversary, which kind of really blew me away, considering I've only been alive for 39 days. I salute them. Well done.

Mommy dressed me in this extra sharp argyle sweater she bought for me at Babies R'Us. And I gotta say, everyone thought I looked hot in it. And truly, I'm a fashionplate in it, especially when I'm sporting a fauxhawk.

In fact, I think the whole "adult" look in my size really works for me. I can really pull that off and maybe score some chicks along the way.

So bring me your vests, berets and chinos. Bring me your stripes, argyles and vintage looks. Bring me your fitted and loose cuts. I will wear them and I will rock them.

But I won't do a monocle.

Oh hells no.

I Have Been Faked

It took Mommy and Daddy a couple of days to finish my birth announcement. They must have taken a thousand of me already, so finding the best one was a monumental task. But the one they find is one I like. I didn't have final creative approval, but they did a good job.

But here's the thing, and I want everyone to know this loud and clear: what you see is not what it is.

Or, plainly spoken: I was Photoshopped.

So for all those waiting for the announcement to come in the mail, the delay is their fault, not mine.

You see, although Mommy and Daddy think I'm "perfect" and "without blemish", they still took the liberty of Photoshopping out all my baby acne. Hey, look, I got dots. It happens to the best of us. But it's who I am.

And what are you trying to set up for me by demanding an impossible level of standards for me to live up to? What, am I still not "perfect" or "without blemish" if I am riddled with tiny red spots? Is that what you want from your son, to have skin as clear as bottled water? Is that what you expect?

Look, I know I am impossibly good looking, but I don't need any work to get there. Hear me?

I'm just saying that if you want me au naturale, then send me out to the world like that. And leave the Photoshopping to the ubermodels that actually need it.

(Although, I do admit, they did do a great job on my complexion).

Mommy Overestimates Me

Mommy took me to the corner shop to meet her friend Peter, who's the guy who not only owns the place but also makes Mommy the best iced coffee in the world. He's gonna have a kid of his own pretty soon. Methinks I'll make friends with her too, and we'll be playing together within the mustards, drinks and paper towels.

Anyways, whenever she takes me over there, I'm usually asleep. But not this time. I was wired. Maybe it was the thought of Peter's iced coffee that got me going. So he finally got to hold me, and I enjoyed it (although it wasn't like when Daddy holds me).

But that's when Mommy freaked out.

"Peter, I'm so sorry. Do you smell that? I think he pooped! That's disgusting, Wyatt!"

Then Peter took a deep breath in, thought about it and said, "No, that's not him. That's just the egg I'm microwaving."

Thanks, Mommy. My butt smells like a microwaved egg. Nice.

But if that is a request...

Playing with Cousins

I had a great day with my cousins Tanner and Dylan whom I never met before. They're a little bit older than me, but that's okay. I have a feeling they're gonna be looking after me as we all grow up together. You know, when they're not giving me a wedgie and hanging me from a tree limb.

I also got another chance to hang out with Petra, and she was just as sweet as she's always been. I know it's been tough for her, not being the youngest and newest member of the family. But I get the feeling she's over it now.

At least, that's how I'm reading the gentle kiss she planted on my cheek.

(Okay, who am I fooling? She's still a little jealous).

10%

One of the best things about being new to this world is that you can contort your body into different positions and everyone will think it's cute. When, actually, all I've been doing is tinkering with a bunch of physical experiments.

Here's one that I figured out.

When I'm laying on my back, if I pull my feet closer to my head by arching up my back just a little bit more, and move my heels just 10% closer to my ears, just 10%, I can push out a fart that's 10% louder.

Just in case you were wondering where that was coming from.

Hooter Hider

While Daddy was picking out some frames at the optometrist, I got a little hungry. Okay, I don't get a little hungry. I get a lot hungry. So I began to cry, and considering that we're in a public place, Mommy was left to her last resort: The Hooter Hider.

For those who can't figure out what that is by reading the name of the product, the Hooter Hider is a cape that is placed over a Mother and Son when breastfeeding so that they can do it under a shroud of privacy. It covers her front side so you can't see that she's giving out milk, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out what's happening.

Still, as I was on my first boob, a strange man came up to Mommy and naively asked, and I quote, "So what's going on under there?" That made me shoot some breastmilk out of my nose because I was laughing so hard.

One more time: "So what's going on under there?"

Here's my quick judgments of this guy. He's either:
1. An idiot who never heard of the concept of breastfeeding and how it's done.
2. A perv who wanted a quick glimpse of Mommy's boob.
3. An FBI agent who thought Mommy was hiding some contraband.
4. Thirsty.

I, for one, pray for his spawn.

Role Model

This morning, I watched Mommy plant trees in the medium between my block and across the street. That means she got dirty. Lifted dirt from the ground. Placed tree into hole. Dumped dirt back in. Patted everything down to keep it secure. She did this for a good ninety minutes or so, all in the good name to help beautify the neighborhood.

Here's the thing: She didn't have to. The trees were gonna be planted whether she lifted a shovel or not. But she just felt inspired to volunteer time from her busy schedule towards helping out. In fact, she was looking forward towards doing it. But like I said, she didn't have to, and having a one-month-old in tow is a good excuse. However, that's not Mommy's way.

I get the feeling that my Mommy just likes doing good, no matter how it may inconvenience her.

And considering that Mommy makes up 50% of me, that makes me 100% proud to be her son.

Afterwards, we went up to Novato to hang out with the two people who made Mommy - Grampa and Gram. They just got back from San Diego. Even after a long drive, they still wanted to see me. So despite how tired they were, they still stayed awake just to have the opportunity to hold me, kiss me, hug me and make silly noises to me.

It's clear where Mommy gets her goodness from.

Hopefully, when I get older, people will say the same about me.

My Bassinet is Hard

Check out how cool this is:

1. Begin crying hysterically when it's not feeding time. I usually get fed around 11:30 at night, and then 2:30 and 6 AM (give or take). So there's no reason for me to be awake at 4 AM. So that's when I begin crying at the top of my lungs.

2. Keep on crying until someone gets up. In this case, it's Mommy because she's got the 2:30 AM feeding and she's also closest to the bassinet.

3. She'll get up and give me my Binky. After a couple of seconds, stop crying and calm down. She'll return to her bed.

4. Repeat steps 2 and 3 over and over again for about seven times, which is when Mommy's had enough.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you get moved from a hard bassinet to a comfortable bed.

I'm One Month Old

Happy birthday to me
Happy birthday to me
Happy birthday dear Wyatt
Happy birthday to me.

And to think, until today, I thought that song was only something Mommy and Daddy would sing to me just to calm me down.

Talking about birthdays, yesterday Mommy took me to Fort Mason to her first Mommies group meeting. There were four other mothers there with their children, who were all born within a week or two of me.

Here's the thing: I was the only boy there. Five mommies, four daughters, one son. That's nine chicks to one chick magnet.

When we all decided to change locations, I had a revelation. It was as if Daddy summoned me from his office to take advantage of this situation. So I began crying my lungs out, and Mommy had to keep the crowd from leaving so she could feed me. It took about a half hour. I'm not sure if anyone had somewhere else to go, but tough cookies. I wasn't ready to leave.

So, let me set the scene for you: there were nine women there, waiting patiently, for me, the only man present, to finish what he's doing.

As Daddy told me afterwards, I've got the rest of my life to deal with the reverse.

Good job, son.

Let's Be Loud and Clear About This

When it's 5 in the morning, and I want my favorite binky, give me my favorite binky.

Don't give me the deformed looking green one.

Don't give me the strange red one.

Give me the yellow one with the blue handles on the side.

I don't care if you can't find it or are looking for it. It's 5 in the morning and I want my favorite binky right now and nothing else.

So gimme my binky right now. I want my binky right now.

(And, if you're wondering, when I cry at volume level 8 with an alternative falsetto and baritone, that means my favorite binky is under the pillow in the bedroom. So stop looking under the living room couches for the third time).

Just sayin'.

On a lighter side: Daddy is Granny's son. Granny has a fascination with fart sounds and touching my diaper. Daddy doesn't have that. I think he's caught up with the idea that when I poop, there's probably gonna be a follow-up poop coming soon.

So, he's a seasoned veteran.

And that means I have to adapt my game.

Here's what I came up with (and other infants, you can borrow this trick. It's awesome):

1. Poop.
2. Poop again. This second poop means you're done - or so Daddy thinks.
3. Play it cool as your Daddy takes you to the changing table.
4. Play it cool when he takes your clothes off. You want to be as calm as possible so you can make him as calm as possible.
5. Summon up all your gas inside you.
6. Wait until your Daddy touches your diaper for removal. When he touches it, fart. As loud as you can. With everything you've got.

Watch how far back your Daddy jumps.

Try it. It never fails to be funny. I've done it about six times, and it's still hilarious. Trust me.

Election Day

Both Mommy and Daddy thought it was really important that we go vote together, so we walked down as one unifed unit to the polling booth on Valencia and waited in line to do something that's distinctly American. Mommy told me how important it is to have my voice be heard. I do that when I want my binky. But I think she means that I have the ability to make a difference in a country, and it's my duty to do so.

Got it, Mommy. Will do in eighteen years.

For the record, I'm an Obama guy. I like his ears. And his voice comforts me.

Anyways, ten hours later, when my guy won (that would make my record 1-0), we watched as the new President-elect made his acceptance speech. Daddy and Mommy were so proud to be Americans. They hung on his every word. And as I rested on Daddy's chest, I gripped harder with each sentence.

It was cool seeing my parents react like that about something that didn't immediately involve me.

But, after listening to them talk about what just happened and after reading over Daddy's shoulder as he updated his own blog, I realized something that really touches me (and something I'll never forget or try to exploit): that everything that happens in their lives is always about me.

Wow.

If I could have voted for them as my parents, I would have.

Like Father, Like Son

Daddy's back from New York where he got a chance to see my cousins Nicky and Ava. Of course, when he landed late at night, he wanted to stay up with me and just stare at me. And, of course, I was happy to oblige him.

So he did this thing where he would look into my eyes, and then manipulate his lips so they would open and he would show me some teeth. I've heard that this action is called "smiling".

Anyway, he did it, and I tried to copy him. I couldn't do the teeth thing because I don't have teeth, but I was able to pull off a "smile", although it was off-center and I looked drunk while doing it.

We did this three times.

He was really happy that we were able to connect like that.

And I was really happy because I was able to pull off making fun of him to his face without him realizing it.

Spoiled

Daddy had to leave for another business trip (at least these are quick ones), but Granny and Grandpa had to leave too. That sucks. I liked having them around. All they do is hold me, stare at me and make me feel even more special than everyone tells me that I am (if that is even possible).

Bye Granny and Grandpa. I heard you'll be back soon. Make it fast.

I'm also learning that I also serve the role as a gift to people - even when I don't have to do a thing. Auntie Pua came over for her birthday. Mommy went out and got her some gifts from Williams-Sonoma that she could use. But the best gift Mommy could give her is to hand me over to her.

So Auntie Pua really wanted was to hold me, burp me, change me and feed me bottles.

This was a prize to her. Me. I was a prize.

Anyone else think that's, you know, weird? Because if you do, don't tell me. You'll spoil everything else for me.

This life thing don't suck.

Songs of my Childhood

Here's another entry into things people do that I think entertains them as much as they think it entertains me.

Whenever Granny is holding me (and not checking my diaper for poo because I farted), she looks me right into the eye and sings a song to me:

I saw a little birdie going hop, hop, hop.
I told that little birdie don't you stop, stop, stop.
I opened up my window to say, "How do you do?"
And the bird spread his wings and away they flew.

Far, far, far away they flew.
Far, far, far away they flew.
And they all came back again.

Nice song. I like how Granny sings it. I have no idea what that song is about other than animal teasing, but I like it.

Mommy has a song for me too:

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are gray.
You'll never know, dear, how much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away.

I like when she sings it too, although it seems to be about child abduction of some sort. Whatever floats her boat.

At least that's better than Daddy's song to me:

She's got eyes of the bluest skies
As if they thought of rain
I hate to look into those eyes
And see an ounce of pain.
Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place
Where as a child I'd hide
And pray for the thunder
And the rain
To quietly pass me by.
Sweet child o' mine
Sweet love of mine

Yes, Daddy sings Axl Rose to me.

Let's keep this post in case it's ever needed by my future psychiatrist.

Halloween

Tonight, Mommy and Daddy took me to a Halloween party. There were other little kids there dressed in different outfits. Most of them were bigger than me and were able to do things such as sit upright and grab stuff. But not me. I just chilled out in my car seat and slept. In my chicken suit.

But don't think I was a lame chicken. Oh, hells no. My sedated state was by design.

'Cuz I was the chillest chicken you'd ever see.

I wasn't a chicken you see in the coop, or one from the cartoons. Naaaaw. I was a chill chicken, relaxing as if I were still in my egg, just hanging out, scoping out things. That's how this little chicken do.

If I wanted to be up and sprawling and crying and cawing, then I would have been a different type of chicken.

But, like I said, that's not my thing.

For my first Halloween, I was a very chill chicken.

And Mommy and Daddy were dressed as happy parents.

A Game For Me

The best thing about grandparents: They fall for anything.

Check this out: every time I fart, Granny checks my diaper for poop. Every time. No exceptions. If she's holding me and she hears something, especially a ffffft or a bloop, she'll lift up the side of my diaper and check.

Which brings me to this, and I don't really have the heart to tell her face to face: sometimes, my farts, they ain't real. I'm faking. I have that ability. I just want to see if she still looks.

She does.

Don't tell anyone that I do this.

Small Effort

One of the great things I've learned about grandparents is that it doesn't take much effort from me to make them happy. Take this for example:

Grandpa took me for a walk today. This involves him dressing me up warmly, then strapping me into my car seat, then securing the car seat into the stroller, then putting blankets on me, then rolling me out the door and then pushing me up the hill, and then dodging passerbys and cars crossing the street, and then bringing me back home and then unlatching me from my car seat and then giving me back to Mommy for a feeding.

I did nothing other than agreeing to taking a walk.

This is fun to them.

Weird people, these grandparents.

I like them.

A Family Reunion For The First Time

Tonight is big. For the first time in my history, there will be three generations of both sides of the family together at one time. I can't tell you how huge that is and how excited I am. But it's not easy.

Grampa and Gram live all the way north in Novato. That's where we'll be reuniting. And they'll be doing all the cooking, so they'll be driving around and working their tails off until we arrive.

Grandpa and Granny live all the way in New York, but now they're here in San Francisco with Mommy, trying to negotiate their way up for the hour drive in between feedings, which is easier said than done.

And Daddy, who normally works in San Francisco, is in Portland for meetings and will be flying in to Oakland and then driving up for dinner.

That's the effort it took to bring us all together.

And it was all for me.

And it was all worth it.

How lucky am I?

Departures and Arrivals

Daddy left last night to fly up to Portland for work. So with half the people I need to wake up, most babies would probably put out only half the effort. But not me. I brought it big time, as if Daddy were here too.

But he wasn't. And I missed him. And he missed me. I wish he didn't have to leave.

However, we went to Crissy Fields, where Mommy, Granny and Grandpa met Grandma and my cousin Petra. Petra's only a year and a half older than me. She's got chubby cheeks just like mine. She's got the best smile, and beautiful eyes. And she's a lot of fun.

We had a blast.

Hey, she's the only first cousin I've met so far. For the rest of my life, she's gonna be one of the people on this planet that I'm closest to. Today was an honor for me.

I can't wait until I see her again.

And Daddy too. Come home soon.

A Very Big Day

So I've had the honor and pleasure to meet and be loved by my West Coast Grandparents.

Today, it was my New York grandparents time to come in and spoil me.

Problem is that Granny and Grandpa's United Airlines flight out of Newark was canceled. My Daddy refuses to fly United because of the crap they usually pull. Still, my New York grandparents were resilient enough to hitch onto a Continental flight. They landed two hours later than they would have, but that's okay. They got here.

And they made up the time with kisses and hugs.

During the remainder of the day, they couldn't take their eyes off me. I couldn't tell if they were grandparents or surveillance cameras. They never let my back hit solid ground because they wouldn't let me out of their arms. They made strange noises to me. And I think I caught a happiness tear in Granny's eye once or twice. They brought me gifts. They fed me. And every time I cried, they were there, comforting me.

Gotta say, they took fawning to a new level, and I loved it.

If only everyone can be loved like that.

There's no East Coast/West Coast War between grandparents. There's no Biggie and Tupac thing going on. I've learned that no matter where grandparents come from, they're both equally awesome.

Hot damn, I'm a lucky kid.

Bree Bree

I got a chance to meet my big cousin Kelly and my not as big cousin Brianna. Kelly is Brianna's mommy and she's Mommy and Daddy's age. Brianna is about five years older than me, so she's part of my generation. Everyone calls her Bree Bree.

Bree Bree and I are gonna get along.

She held me in her arms. She kissed my cheeks. She made me laugh. She danced around, did somersaults and I couldn't stop watching and be entertained.

She's good times.

And I've got the rest of having her make me smile.

Be Prepared

Here's a primer for everyone still in the womb: Make sure that, whenever you come out, cross check all your references about your parents. Of course, you want them to be caring and hopefully make enough money to feed you and have a nice support system around you. Some of this information you might be able to gleam from listening in on their lives through the echoes.

My point: you can't pick your parents, but just be prepared for anything.

Cuz I wasn't.

The scene: Our Toyota Prius. Driving up to Novato to visit Gram and Grampa. We're somewhere near San Rafael. Mom and Dad are going through the FM dial. Neither is happy with the results. So Mom whips out her ipod and begins scrolling for something.

Anything.

The right thing.

And alas. She found it.

Now, through my nine months in the womb and my almost three weeks on this planet, I've deducted that my parents are pretty cool. Sure, they make mistakes like wiping my poop on my body, but they're funny mistakes. I like my parents.

And then, they sang:

What I needed was someone to show me
You know you can't fool me
I've been loving you too long
It started so easy
You want to carry on

And then, the chorus, at their highest octaves:

Lost in love and I don't know much
Was I thinking about
Fell out of touch
But I'm back on my feet
Eager to be what you wanted

And then, at the highest level ever recorded by humans and fire engines, one more time:

Lost in love and I don't know much
Was I thinking about
Fell out of touch
But I'm back on my feet
Eager to be what you wanted

When I got back home, I checked in with the local authorities and got a definitive answer: Yes, I'm stuck with them.

Good thing I find their dorkiness to be kinda endearing.

Hundred percent

A quick questionairre for all the naysayers and the haters:

Who just went to the pediatrician's office, kicked ass and didn't take names?

What was able to gain an entire pound in a week without eating anything solid?

Who has nothing medically wrong with him except for a severe case of chronic cuteness?

Who makes solid poops every two hours or so and juicy ones every six?

Who extends the middle finger whenever he puts his arm through a sleeve?

Who can bench press a ham sandwich?

Well, who do you think?

Undeserved

I'm a good kid. How do I know? Well, I hear my parents tell me that I'm a good kid. So that's worth something, right? Although who says they have a bad kid? Who would do that?

But I have heard horror stories of other kids that are colicky and won't give their parents a moment of peace. I'm not like that. I don't wish that torture on anyone. I'm pretty chill. I just hang out, man, and take it all in. That's how i do.

Like I said, I'm a good kid.

So I don't deserve it when my parents smoosh my poop all over my body.

Let me explain: I had to poop. Like, really badly poop. So I pooped. A big one. A helluva load. And I let Daddy know that I pooped. And since Daddy learned his lesson, he quickly put a clean diaper underneath my dirty one. Nice. But he didn't put the Pee Pee TeePee over my junk, so I began to pee all over the place. I'm talking on the wall, on my dressing table and on my onesie. If it could take liquid, I helped the cause.

So, as Daddy's scrambling to find the Pee Pee Tee Pee (which I was laying on), Mommy came in and did the sensible thing: she put a diaper on the leak.

And yes, unfortunately, it was the dirty diaper. So now I've got pee on my chest and poop on my torso.

Why? Like I said, I'm a good kid.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my parents.

Back and Forth on 24th

Mommy and Aunt Pua took me for a nice walk today up 24th Street. It's a nice place, with a bunch of kids stores, other strollers, some coffeehouses and the bar where Daddy goes to watch the New York Football Giants kick some tail. We specifically went into Nest to buy me some clothes, into Radio Shack for an ipod hookup (Lil Wyatt needs to listen to Lil Wayne in the Prius), into Bell Market for some food that's on sale (smart Mommy) and then to Toast for lunch. That was the place where this strange woman came over and wanted to touch me because I was soooo cute. Listen lady, I may be a stud, but keep your hands off the merchandise. And just as quickly as she came over, she left.

To be honest, Mommy was just scared of her germs. I was scared of her helmut haircut.

Then, on the way back, Mommy left me with Aunt Pua because she had to run into 24 Hour Fitness. If you listen to her tell her story, it was because she had to do some ab work on the Smith machines. Or maybe it was because she had to put in some stamina training on the bike. Or heck, maybe it was because she had to do some instant core strengthening on the sit up mats.

But I was there. And trust me, if she was doing any sort of spontaneous exercising, it was some very intense squats on top of a porcelain seat.

Daddy came home late. I wish I could have been the one to tell him that, but I was asleep. Oh well. He can read.

--WT

A Long Night's Day

Well, if they say that you learn something new every day, then that means I've learned 14 new things. And number #14 was a doozy: I guess Mommy and Daddy don't really understand me when I'm up all night, crying and staring into their eyes. I thought they spoke my language, but guess what? I was wrong.

That's okay. They've got some sort of a checklist they go through that gives them hints as to what I need, and when they go through the process of elimination and I'm still crying, well, that's when confusion happens. And there was plenty of confusion deep into the AM.

To them, my crying means that they don't sleep.

Or that I'm being fussy.

Or that this is just part of the parenting process.

Wrong, wrong and wrong.

I wish there were a way for me to tell them that I'm crying because I'm growing, and that it's making me uncomfortable. And that makes them uncomfortable.

I wish it could be easier for all of us.

--WT

In My Face

Daddy doesn't know how funny he is (or, at least, he thinks he's funny but not in the same way we think he is).

So I had one of my monumental poos this morning - right before I was supposed to go live online with Granny and Grandpa from New York. So Daddy changes my diaper - and let me say that I've been meaning to warn him about this, but I just haven't been able to find the right words - but when he took the dirty diaper away, he didn't immediately replace it with a clean diaper. He's been doing this. Idiot. So, needless to say, when my ass was exposed to the changing table, I immediately took the opportunity to poo all over it.

And yes, it was a poo to be proud of.

So Daddy's scrambing right now, and I'm laughing internally because, you know, crapping on furniture is only something you can get away with when you're an infant. So as I'm laughing...well, I got was I asked for.

Yes, you guessed it. I peed in my own face. Yes, just days after I peed in Gram's face.

Go ahead. Laugh it up. Hardy har har har.

Look, even at a young age, I know that was goes around, comes around.

I just didn't know that when it comes around, it goes up your nostril.

--WT

Joy and Pain

Sadly, Gram left this morning to go back home, but not before she got in her last hugs and Grampa got in a couple of bubble blowing and talked to me in a deep voice. It's gonna be different around here without her.

But I gotta say that I had a nice day with my parents.

We had every intention on packing some sandwiches and formula, walking the seven blocks and finding a nice patch of grass at Dolores Park to sit and watch a Soapbox Derby. But one nap led into another and we missed the whole thing. So, instead, we spent the day just hanging out. Daddy did some chores around the house, Mommy fed me and I did my usual burping, pooping and sleeping. We got into a nice rhythm. But we did them all together.

Like I said, it was a nice Saturday.

I love Saturdays.

Saturday night and Sunday morning, however, sucked. I cried and cried and cried and Mommy and Daddy, why aren't you helping me? Why aren't you? Why don't you understand? I'm crying, so help me! Why won't you help me? Why can't you help me?

I don't love Sunday mornings.

--WT

Told You So

I hate to say it, but I told you so.

Okay, I love to say that I told you so.

Like I predicted, my poop masquerading as some black sticky stuff is no longer. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my poop is now wonderful. It's long. Bountiful. Yellow brown. It loks like a million icky pebbles. And it blows out frequently in both baritones and falsettos. Diapers fear me.

My only wish is literacy, so just like my Daddy, I could read a magazine while doing this.

But the only thing I read right now are the faces of Mommy, Daddy and Gram, and I for one, could not be any proud of what I produce for this makes me a man.

--WT

Funny But Regretful

An open letter to Gram:

I love you. I love everything that you've done for me, Mommy and Daddy. It really means a lot to me. You've been great. You really have. I like it when you hold me, when you change me, when you feed me formula and when you sing songs to me. Honestly, I'm a very lucky kid to have you as a grandma.

That being said, I'm really truly sorry that I peed in your face.

And I'm just as sorry that I thought it was funny.

--WT

Full House

Today was also fun. Daddy did go to work, but Gram and Mommy were still here and Grampa even showed up for a nice chunk of the day. He made faces at me and did that bubble thing, and they all ate a nice meal, but still, it was all about me. And who could blame them? I'm cute, I've got a nice dimple, I look good in my clothes and my skin is soft. Who in this house can compete with that?

I've been a lot more alert now than I've ever been. Although I haven't really gotten perfect control of where my eyes are going, I can control them somewhat. I see the colors in my room and the long nosehairs coming out of Daddy's nostrils and the spinach in Mommy's teeth. I see them all. They've all been noted and processed.

I can't wait to see more.

--WT

A Lack of Separation Anxiety

Today was the first day that I spent away from Daddy. He had to go to this thing they call "work", where he goes to earn "money" that will be used to buy me "things" - like dolls, diapers, formula and clothes that say stuff like "New York Giants Super Bowl XLII Champions" or "Super Bowl XLII Champions - New York Giants". I gotta say that I missed the big lug.

That doesn't mean that I didn't have any fun. Mommy and Gram (and then Aunt Pua) picked up the pace of talking to me in funny voices and making funny faces at me. It felt good, being the only guy in the place, my very own kingdom. And like any good servants to the king, they both cleaned me after I pooed - and did it even more gently.

Speaking of my poo, I gotta say that I've completely picked up my game from that sticky black goo into something resembling a dijon mustard. It's a first step, I know, but I feel that I can bring it harder. Just give me time. I can get there. I know I have it in me.


--WT

The Doctor is In

I had my first doctor's appointment today, and wouldn't you know it, I checked out as perfectly healthy. I even gained two ounces from the pound I lost from my birth weight, so I'm heading in the right direction there. Although I gotta say: going to the doctor just ain't my thing. It reminds me of the hospital with all the prodding and poking. It's guilt by association. Look for me to make a fuss about this whenever I get a chance.

What was nice, however, was the ride home with Mommy and Daddy in the Prius. Even when we stopped and parked in a spot, it was a really nice time together. We didn't rush to get home. We just took our dear time together. And it was awesome. We listened to music and talk radio. I eavesdropped on their conversations. We went up some hills and down some others. And the weather was gorgeous.

If this is the way life is, I have so much to look forward to.

--WT

Time with Gram

With Mommy having trouble sleeping and with Daddy battling a migraine headache (that i hope his genes keep to himself), I've been spending more time with my Gram, who has changed me, burped me, swaddled me and loved me. She's been great. It's been nice having her around and getting to know her.

So although it breaks my heart that Mommy looks so tired and it's all my fault and Daddy's migraine just ain't fair, today's been a fun day for me. Grandparents like to spoil their grandchildren. I'll keep that in mind and milk it for all it's worth.

In the afternoon, I met Uncle Mike and Aunt Sue and my cousins Nicky and Ava through the internet. That's a lot of people that live within Daddy's Mac, and I'm bigger than all of them. They made funny faces at me. I think they're gonna make me laugh. In fact, they already are.

BTW (and yes, even in the womb, I know what BTW stands for), I've been eating and shitting more regularly, thank you very much. I'm in a race to see how quickly I can bankrupt my parent's diaper collection. I give them until Thursday.

--WT

Learning the Ropes

Last night and today was kinda rough. Not gonna lie.

Mommy, Daddy and I were in a nice rhythm in the hospital. Tanning, drinking, burping, changing. Repeat. I thought we all agreed to those terms. But now we're in a different place, tanning was taken out, I'm in a seat that rocks and glides and there's different angles of nipple insertion...this is waaaay too much for a five-day-old to handle. And when I decide to sleep through my feedings, that's when they change me. My world's been rocked. What the hell.

But you know what? Just because it's different doesn't mean it's wrong. And I'm getting the hang of all this.

I'll just poo again right after the burping, you know, just to keep it interesting.

Also, I was introduced to my New York grandparents over the internet. Gotta say it, that was weird. I mean, they suddenly appeared in a window on Daddy's Mac. They waved at me and talked to me and were beaming with pride, but I ask: How did they get in there? And how do I get them out?

--WT

Homeward Bound

After a day and a half of tanning and boozing, it seems like my jaundice has gone away. Which means it's time for Mommy and Daddy to pack me up and take me home. I was eavesdropping on Daddy, and it seems like he had trouble taking apart my car seat from the car, and he had to call Uncle Shannon to teach him how to simply press in a lever. Yep. That was it. Let me keep that in my memory bank. He'll regret having said that out loud.

They have a cool car, by the way. A Toyota Prius. It's nice and quiet, and it still has the new car smell. And it was a smooth ride. Mommy and Daddy took their time coming home, up and down hills, with a U-turn for safe keeping.

And we came home. Gram came too, which was great. Let's make this a party, I say. Someone put some Coors Light into my bottle.

Also, I learned that when Daddy bends over, his pants fall down. Hilarious. Again, another thing to torment him with later. But he did do a great job decorating the hallway to our front door.

Then we walked into our apartment, and I was impressed. Mommy has great design sense. They took me into every room, and they called it mine. My bathroom. My kitchen. My dining room. My couch. My glider. And my bedroom, which is a nice mixture of beige, white and silver sage. Like I said, Mom's got mad design skillzzzzzzz.

Tonight, I slept in my bassinet, right beside Mom and Dad in their own bed.

I can get used to this.

--WT

A Little Yella

I've learned that I've got this condition called jaundice, which means that my skin and pigmentation is just a little yellow. Don't worry. It happens to 90% of babies, so that means I'm in the top percentile.

Anyway, to combat that, they put me in a tanning booth for two and a half hours with a mask over my eyes. And then they give me to Mommy for a feeding. So, simply put, it's kinda like I've been out in the sun for 150 minutes, then going inside to the shade for a 30 minute pina colada breast break.

That's been my world today.

I got to spend some time with my Gram today, and Uncle Shannon and Auntie Nessa also came by for an official introduction. I like them. I think they have a daughter around my age. That would be my first cousin, correct? See, despite my relative youth, I'm whip smart.

It seems that I actually don't live inside or womb or in a hospital. Mommy and Daddy live in an apartment in San Francisco. They're hoping that my jaundice clears up so they can take me home tomorrow.

As long as Mommy serves pina coladas there too, I'm game.

--WT

I'm Less of a Man Today

I had my foreskin chopped today.

Then again, I was so drugged up that I didn't really feel a thing, and I've been told that I'm not gonna really miss it. Plus, mine will look just like Daddy's, although I can't figure out the opportunity or reason where we'll both have to whip ours out at the same time.

So I've got that going for me now.

Which is nice.

Gram and Grampa have been here today to help Mommy and Daddy. I like them a lot. Gram is very tender and sings "Inky Dinky Spider" which I can swear is wrong, and Grampa blows tiny bubbles through his lips. They're gonna make me laugh.

Which also is nice.

--WT

Five Things I've Learned

Here's what I learned so far:

1. Those two people who are always in my grill are called Mommy and Daddy. I think they are my hosts in this world. I like them. Mommy is pretty and Daddy is funny and I get the impression they'll do anything in the world for me. I can't wait to take full advantage of that.

2. I like it when Mommy and Daddy hold me close to their bodies because I can hear their heartbeats. And that reminds me of the safe warm place where I spent 38 weeks.

3. I am supposed to suck on that nipple that's pushed into my face. And, if I suck on it long enough, some milk comes out of it. Cool. This happens every three hours.

4. When I poo or pee, someone changed my diaper. They think it's cute now. But just wait and see how long and far I can push this.

5. I live in this amazing city they call San Francisco. From my window, I can make out hills and multicolored houses. Could be lots of fun. I've got uncles and aunts, grandmas and grandpas and family, half of which live on the other coast, in a city called New York. How cool is that? I'm two days old and already bicoastal.

--WT

Hello, World

After almost 38 weeks of living inside of a womb, here I am.

Everything is weird out here. I can't really focus, but there's a whole lot of shiny lights and loud noises. Someone puts a strange nipple into my mouth that I think I'm supposed to suck on, but who knows? And there's these nurses who are sticking me with needles and putting thermometers under my arms and suction cups into my mouth. I feel like some sort of laboratory experiment.

There are two people who are constantly in my grill that have told me repeatedly that I was worth all of it. Their voices sound familiar, like these echoes I used to hear back in the safe warm place. Anyways, supposedly it was a tough 38 weeks for my carrier, this woman, who went through vomiting, edema, karate kicks to her internal organs, general uncomfortableness, high blood pressure and a full body rash. And when she entered the hospital for my delivery, the labor took three days - and it took a c-section to finally bring me out. Easy it wasn't.

I've been measured, weighed and cleaned. I've been fed, combed and wiped. I'm 25% bigger than any other baby in the nursery and twice as cute. And my balls are very large, thank you very much.

And, although I can't really understand this feeling yet and I know that my total life experience can be counted in minutes, I can easily say that, without a shadow of a doubt, I'm being loved.

This is gonna be a fun ride.

--WT