First/New Words

It's been a while since I've felt compelled to lay down any anecdotes. After all, explosive poop, teething, and sleep deprivation stories can be fascinating and entertaining, but after a while, the novelty fades. So, I've been waiting for something new. It might have taken a few weeks, but Scout never fails - she's started mouthing new and exciting words, a step up from cooing, and in a language only she and I can understand.

The first couple I attribute to accidental discovery of what happens when you keep cooing but open and close your mouth. We got a resounding "bayaah" and a "dooh." Since our dog's name is Mr. Bailey, we just assumed she was referring to him. He is by far more interesting than either me or the wife, at least to the little one. So, now we refer to him as Bayaah the Dooh instead of Mr. Bailey the Dog. After being trumped in importance and attention over the past 8 months, I think he's just glad we're still referring to him at all.

For the past week or so, the word of choice has been a very boisterous and serious "BWAH." We've noticed she really only uses this one in times of dismay, like diaper changes, bed time, getting dressed, and going into the car seat. But her furrowed brow lets me know there's something behind this word, so I've taken the liberty of interpreting it based on different situations.

Getting a bath BWAH

"I've worked so hard for this odor, much like Bayaah the Duh gets when he rolls in poop and dead animals in the backyard after he's had a bath. Let's just skip tonight's bath."

Getting a diaper change BWAH
"For the love of moses, how hard can this be?! My junk is tiny! Wipe me down, wrap me up, and get me back to Bayaah the Duh!"

Getting dressed BWAH
"HOLY BREAST MILK! Why can't you just get my arms in there!"

Eating solids BWAH
"Why don't you taste this stuff?! That's right, it does taste just like it smells, imagine that."

Going to bed BWAH (might be a bit biased)
"Dearest father, I miss you when I sleep and dread the idea that you might not be there in the morning. Please give me caffeine so that I too can stay awake."

That's just a sampling, and there's more words coming out everyday. I'm sure this is all just leading up to the day that she will exclaim with vigor and in perfectly articulated English "Dad, you're super duper!" Then again, I may be a little biased.

Poo Poo Platter, Anyone?!

It seems that when it comes to little ones, every time you raise your arms in victory, there's a doom troll lurking behind a hidden door. That troll just waits until you think you've worked out some sweet deal with your kid, no matter how small or great, and then it comes out and junk punches you for good measure. What in the world does that mean, and where does the poo poo platter come in? Well, it kind of goes along with the last post about taking two steps back for every step forward.

This time, it's like the best of sleeping, teething, and eating solids all came together into a perfect two weeks of bliss for us and Scout. The first two teeth were solidly in and the next six (that's right, six) were on the verge of breaking through but waiting patiently; first attempts at feeding solids went well; Ferberizing resulted in 12 hours of sleep a night after only two nights of crying and working through the pain. Not too shabby, but it was short lived and naturally involves poop.

After two weeks of having our sleep interrupted only by ghost cries and first time parent paranoia, the next couple teeth started coming in. On top of that, Scout was solidly eating oatmeal, green beans, and sweet potato each day. So, new foods and new teeth kind of interrupted the whole sleep thing, but it was still pretty good, until the day I waited too long to respond to an early morning cry. I was silly to think she was just looking for a pacifier at 5am. Turns out that the solids, after brewing in her belly for a couple days, came flowing forth in abundance. As I ventured half dazed into her room, the smell hit me. In comes doom troll, winding up the jab.

I took her downstairs to change the diaper and start the day, but I was not fully prepared for what I was about to encounter. Her fleece PJs hold in a great deal of matter as it turns out, because when I unzipped those little footed jammies, there was poop. Up the front, round the sides, up the back nearly to the neck, and partly down the legs, all there just waiting. At that point, clean hands don't matter so I dove right in, scooping and using up nearly an entire Costco sized package of wipes. The last time I gagged like that was when I spent too much time hunting Wild Turkey with my friend Jack Daniels, but there was no sleeping this one off. Naturally, she thought I was playing and making fun faces, so she laughed. I did not, but I can't hold it against her. I raised my arms, not in victory, but in surrender. Junk punch complete, doom troll satisfied.

Questionable?!

I don't know. There's something awfully inappropriate about this teether.