Magazine Boobs: Not As Good As Real Boobs

Like all normal babies (and normal puppies), Spud likes to chew on things. He especially likes paper products, including paper towels, book covers, the New York Times, business cards, and magazines. He grabs these objects, examines them carefully and gives them the shake test, and sooner or later will attempt to chew on them. Usually we grab the objects away before the snacking begins, but not always.

Today he got hold of a magazine with Christie Brinkley on the back cover. A while back he began to recognize people in pictures and smile at them, particularly pictures of himself. Then along came Christie, asking if he's "Got Milk"? This was no normal chewing event, this was the first example of Targeted Chewing.



This is a short post, so I'll add some gratuitous cute sleepy baby photos. Awwwwww.





[The Olympics aren't on right now, so I was flipping the channels. I found an infomercial for St. Jude's Children's Hospital. Lots of little kids sick with cancer, going through chemotherapy and radiation. Little kids dying from cancer, and movie stars asking viewers to please donate to the hospital. Shit. I went upstairs and gave Spud a hug. If I was in charge, the military budgets of the world would be sent to St. Jude's. Imagine.]

The Most Disgusting Baby in the Known Universe

Perhaps I exaggerate. Perhaps not.

We celebrate his 10th month (unofficial stats: length 29 inches [still?], weight: 21.5 lbs) on planet Earth with the following horrifying incident:

[this morning]

John: [sniffing] I think he pooped.

Claire: Mm hmm.

John: [hears natural and unnatural sounds coming from baby}: Yeah, definitely pooped.

Claire: Do you want me to change him?

John's internal monologue: Yes.

John's actual voice: No, I'll do it. You cleaned the cat pans.

Here's what I should have said: Yes. Because the baby deposited something in his diaper that was not of this Earth, and had a volume that was larger than the actual baby. After changing him, the following activities were required:

a) the baby needed a bath
b) I needed a shower
c) the onesie, sweatshirt, and socks he was wearing had to be washed immediately
d) so did the diaper changing pad and 400 square ft. of wall-to-wall carpeting
e) the garbage bag, though only 1/8 full, was tossed onto the front porch
f) the baby was tossed onto the front porch*

*considered, but not actually acted upon

After the detoxifying process was complete:

Cheerios Chin and Chiclets Chompers

He used to eat just about everything. If we were eating it, that was good enough for him. He was in the Eat Anything You Are Eating stage. All manner of blenderized fruits, vegetables, yogurt...he ate it all. Sweet potatoes, bananas, green beans, bits of orange, and apple sauce. He liked those healthy things that you are supposed to feed your baby. Big People Food was his greatest joy. No more. Now it must be a dry carbohydrate: bread, crackers, or cheerios. Period. We have now entered a Picky Eater stage.

On the plus side, he occasionally gets the cheerios stuck to his chin.



If you look closely, you can see tooth #2 has emerged. A random lady at the store referred to this small number of teeth as "chiclets".





We are very proud because he's reading at an 11-month level. At this level, the reader stops chewing on the books and actually acknowledges the presence of content. He likes books with pictures of other babies. He points at them and grins.

Valentine's Day

When he got hold of the valentine balloon, he did what he always does with a new object: he examined it closely, then held it out in his hand and shook it up and down. You have to give everything a visual scan and then subject it to the shake test. When he let go of it, it floated to the ceiling, and he cried. A casual observer might think that he was sad simply because he'd lost his new toy, but I suspect that it has to do with the Earth's gravitation. Sometime ago he settled on the idea that when you drop something it ALWAYS falls downward, and this damn thing fell UPWARD. This universe continues to throw him curve balls.



Spud continues to reject the idea of global warming. It snowed again on Friday, 3 inches this time, and gosh darn it, it was 90 degrees just 6 months ago. Spud can spot a cooling climatic trend when he sees one. The climate scientists are clearly just totally full of it. Spud also rejects the idea that the Earth is a sphere because, duh, all the people in the southern hemisphere would clearly fall off. Hmmmm...unless...they are full of this helium stuff.



We had to lower his crib mattress. He found the exit.



That face is saying "He he, lookie what I found."

Outgrowing

Spud is stepping up to new primo big-boy carseats. His old carseats (hand-me-downs from the Farrs and McCormicks...thanks!) were rated for smallish humans less than 22 lbs and 29 inches in length. He was about to surpass both of those numbers. As you can see in the first picture, he was starting to overflow a little bit.



So for safety's sake, it was time get new seats that he'll use until he reaches 50 lbs and/or 50 inches. At this rate, in about 3 months.



He hasn't been using Aunt Larissa's former cradle for a while (he could conceivably clamber out of the thing and swan dive off the side), but I thought we'd take one last shot of him in it and compare it with the picture taken when he was tinier.

Last May 1, when he was a week old:



And today:



Is there anything happier than upside-down baby giggles? [play movie]

Do What Comes Naturally

From xkcd.com



Speaking of Aw Crap, the three of us have been sick with the most hideous digestive-tract disease EVER. Spud had it on Sunday, Claire had it yesterday, and I got it last night. I won't go into too many details, but it involves evacuating one's entire gastrointestinal system by all means possible.