What We’ve Learned: Week 10
Most everything that Henry does can be placed in the category of “baby.” He coos, he squirms, he flails his arms and legs. His skin is soft, his cheeks are big, his hair smells sweet.
There are, however, several adult type things he does. He burps like a truck driver. He passes gas like he just left an all-you-can-eat buffet. And, as Kristen discovered earlier this week, his feet stink like a construction worker.
Taking off his socks, Kristen bent down to nibble at his delicate toes when she encountered a… smell, if you will. Reaching for a baby wipe, she pulled several small pieces of toe jam out between his piggies, each little nugget stinkier then the next. Henry, of course, his toes tickled by the wet wipe, thought it was terrific.
I think that, as he ages, his burps will calm down. I’d like to think there’s a golden age of childhood that is marked by lack of burping. Of no farting. And of daily baths that will keep his feet and toes smelling like happiness.
I think that I live in a fantasy world.
Other than toe jam, what else have we learned about Henry this week?
We learned that if we hand him something, there’s about a 15% chance that he’ll grab onto it and hold it tight. Henry can grasp and hold for about 30 seconds, at max, and if he’s in one of his gregarious moods, he’ll wave whatever it is in the air (like he just don’t care). And then he’ll smile.
We learned that at times he prefers a flip-top cow more than Kristen or me or even the cieling fan. Our friend Tara bought it for him a few weeks ago, and if we wiggle it in front of him, he forgets whatever terrible thing we’re putting him through (ie, strapping him into the car seat, changing his diaper, giving him kisses).
We learned that of all the clothes that we bought him, everything in the 3-6 month range fits him perfectly fine except for his Halloween costume. For some reason, 3-6 means one thing to every company and employee in the world and something completely different to whatever seamstress was working at the Gap Kids factory that day. We’ll still put him in it on Friday and parade him around the building, but it just won’t be as cute as we had hoped. (Oh, who am I kidding? Everything he does is cute!)
And we learned that what little hair on his head has been compromised. When in his crib, all swaddled up like a giant baby burrito, before he goes to sleep, Henry will whip his head back and forth (he’ll do this when he’s asleep, too). The problem is that on the back of his head is the pivot point where all that whipping is concentrated. And that quarter sized point has no hair on it whatsoever anymore. I’m sure it will grow back, and I’m not worried, but for now, he doesn’t have much to spare.
