For about thirty minutes every morning, light ricochets through the fish tank and flashes a patch rainbow patch on our couch.
Am I the only parent who still gives her son a bottle? Nathan will not take a sippy cup and I’ve bought all kinds and colors. Our pediatrician suggested forcing him to use it by removing the bottle all together, and either, I’m too weak or Nathan doesn’t latch onto anything not resembling a boob, but it hasn’t worked. And why is it with this transition that I feel a tinge of guilt and shame that I haven’t moved my kid into the sippy cup pack when it seems like every other child has had it so easy? I hardly felt any remorse for formula or going back to work, but when we’re in public and I pull out an avent bottle, I swear I feel those eyes darting at me! But he’ll move on, right? I won’t have to send him care packages when he’s at college and wants to drink beer out of a bottle you can sterilize in the microwave. Right?
But moving on–this is also an excellent photo to share Nathan’s important discovery last week: his penis. Now whenever the kid is stripped down, he tugs at his cash and prizes and looks at me with a grateful grin, as if his wang had been made by Fisher Price and I attached it to his body for his enjoyment. I can just imagine sharing with my moms group how I had paced the toy aisle at Target, and how it was between the penis and the Sit-to-Stand Giraffe and as you can see, the wang definitely won out.
And in writing that last euphemistic sentence, I know that I’ll have to teach him the proper names for genitalia or else I’m going to get a teacher’s note saying, “Let’s schedule a Parent-Teacher conference about Nathan referring to his penis as the ‘downtown bonanza.'”