Neglect-O-Vision

Claire returned to work on Monday. This new era of child-raising (I won't say 'child-rearing' since Michael Jackson is too fresh in all of our minds right now) involves a somewhat complex shifting of schedules. Claire works mornings and early afternoons and I am on baby duty, then I bring the baby to work and dump, er, hand off the baby for her late afternoon shift while I get some work done on my papers and try to publish instead of perish.

The paternal grandparents gave us a video monitor (with infrared night vision!!) that I've installed over the crib. In the unlikely event that the baby ever sleeps (actually he's starting to get into a napping groove), we can leave the room, or even the whole 2nd floor, and get important adult things done while still keeping a close, concerned, and caring eye on our child. We call it Neglect-O-Vision.

There are now two different scenarios in which I will stare intently at and then talk to a TV screen:

1) The Redskins are about to bumble away another game: "Come on...come on...NO!"
2) The baby is starting to wake up and make fussy noises: "Come on...come on...NO!"



He has a sibling: it is Big Brother.



If he tries to shoplift anything, I'll be able to nail him.