16
Feb
The Dream Police
Here I was, complaining about my son scaring me when apparently what I should be worrying about are the things that are scaring him.
Because apparently babies can have nightmares.
God knows what they entail.
Category: Fear
10
Feb
The Fast and the Furious
It’s one of the cliches of parenting that kids grow up fast. One minute you’re dreading dealing with diapers, the next you’re teaching them how to drive their flying cars (these have gotta happen eventually, right?).
Not only is everyone aware of this belief, pretty much everyone accepts it as well, whether they have kids themselves or not. Of course, once someone does have kids it’s no longer just a belief; it becomes immediately apparent that the cliche is 100% true. So much so that that terrible sitcom convention – wherein an older couple suddenly decides they want a new baby, usually after the mom is exposed to someone else’s kid (and always because the show needs an infusion of cute) – suddenly makes perfect sense.
Except Oliver. That kid sucked.
08
Feb
(Not) Sleeping with the Enemy
We are one of the lucky ones: our child sleeps.
Wary of all the horror stories, we opted to give Cry It Out a shot. It worked like a charm (and I recommend it up and down). When our son goes to sleep, he stays asleep. For 11 to 12 hours. Every night.
But, every once in a while, when he’s not feeling well or is tossing and turning, we will let him sleep in our bed.
It never goes well.
07
Feb
My Prediction? PAIN.
My son is a real baby.
Of course, by developmental standards, he’s not a baby anymore. He can “walk” and “talk” and understand things like a toddler, and he’s definitely not the size of a baby, except maybe those fat asses you see on Maury Povich and Jerry Springer. When you measure by those benchmarks, he’s a toddler.
But if you measure by his ability to withstand pain? He’s a baby, through and through.
01
Feb
Separation Insanity
On Monday, we dropped our kid off at his first daycare session. There was a fair amount of screaming, quite a bit of crying and a desperate need for some hand-holding.
And that was just my wife. Rimshot!