Monday, February 22, 2010
You may call me Super Baby.
I knocked her socks off on Monday by rolling over. Now, I've rolled over before, but
- only in one direction
- typically only once (without help)
- only after considerable howling
Monday, I rolled to my left and right -- in fact I started with seamlessly rolling to the opposite direction that I usually go in one smooth flop. I discovered that Mom will not only give me lots of kisses and help me stand up (which I find soothing and already count on her doing), she'll play toss-the-baby-in-the-air. I find this game enormously fun. And didn't even spit up on the rug. Or Mom. (I did that later.)
So, I got so happy, that Mom had me do it again.
FIVE more times. Ok, she helped me on the very last time, but it still counts.
Now, lest you think that this was all sunshine and buttercups, I did cry, quite vociferously each and every time. Strangely, enough, I sometimes like to cry harder once I do roll over. Kisses and toss-the-baby turn my frown upside down, though.
I get pretty tired doing all that exercise, so I had some mom juice and settled in for a a little lap nap. Until Mom called Larry the Contractor back. Oh Larry.
Larry and Mom interrupted my sleep to talk about landscaping and granite. I mean, seriously people.
Payback is hell: I planted some nice warm spit up on Mom's neck.
And then I waited until we were 3 miles into our exercise to start crying hard enough that everyone in the park stared at Mom like she was torturing me. I was just too wound up to take a nap, but I did finally calm down once all those bumps leveled out. Of course, by all those bumps "leveling out" I just mean that I was no longer at risk for shaken baby syndrome.
Oh, what a day.
I did calmly entertain myself while Mom showered after we came home (unusual). And she was dry before I started a new symphony. Then I helped her FloorMate, which was so nice and fun and pleasant smelling that I crashed in my sling.
Busy bee. And that was only MONDAY.
TUESDAY I forgot how to roll over. Or refused to be a pawn in Mom's circus. Sheez lady, gimme a break -- I'm not a trick pony. Or circus seal.