For me, that’s an easy one. As Baby’s personality has begun to emerge, I feel like the lead singer of Aerosmith has moved in with us. Wild man, bachelor rocker antics abound.
* He can trash a room in seconds. Every square foot of our home is strewn with toys, Tupperware, chewed-up newspaper, mystery food, whatever Baby can get his little paws on and fling with a vengeance.
* He wails and shakes his head, as if in a drunken frenzy. Alarming, when one of his previously charming traits was his utter lack of sound.
* He bites. So far, only my elbow, shoulder, and chin have fallen victim, which makes me laugh. I’ve since read this is precisely the wrong parental reaction since this encourages nibbling humans.
* He stays up all night. So far this week, he has woken up regularly at 1, 2, 3, 5, and 6 in the morning. Sleep training seems to have made nighttime sleep worse, if you can believe it (though naps have improved). I think we did it wrong by being lax in our approach, so I am attempting to start the whole process over again tonight. Yay!
* He’s a judge on American Idol. Ha ha. This part is obviously not so true, but if it were, I would be J. Lo and Husband would be Randy “Dawg, I like you, but that was a little pitchy” Jackson in this scenario. I think that’s wholly fair.
While Husband doesn’t actively think of comparing Baby to celebrities the way I do, he does refer to Baby as “Ed Asner†on occasion. This is based on the noises Baby makes in his sleep. Husband always cautions, “Don’t wake up Ed Asner,†which cracks me up.
P.S. Baby has begun to walk. (Eeek!)
P.P.S. Formula smells disgusting. Husband said it smells like Old Cheese, I say it smells like Dog, this other dad from day care says it smells like Wet Dog. Clearly, Wet Dog is the winner.