some mornings it’s like trying to dress a caffienated ferret.
He hates crawling on the carpet so I once lured him across it by leaving a trail of Cheerios.
Trying to remove a Cheerio somehow lodged in his right nostril whilst listening to Skrillex. A difficult operation at best.
When he sits on his mattress, legs hanging out and holding on to the bars of his crib, all he’s missing is a harmonica.
Old cereal crunches underfoot like autumn leaves.
He’s learning to stand up on his own. All I can think now is “I’m screwed”.
I thought if he lay next to me in bed while I was reading he might nap. Instead he pounded on my chest for 40 minutes like he was performing CPR.
At 5am he is lucky he’s so cute.
Sometimes when I look at him I see what I’ll look like as a bald fat old man.
It’s fun to watch him hit on all of the stewardesses like
a drunk businessman. Though he has better luck.