... monitoring G's pees and poops. Don't shrink your nose, all you single-types out there. Your time will come too. Every morning, the entire household gathers around G as he does his morning air-kickboxing routine which goes something like this --
Thud, thud, thud.
Break.
Suck fingers.
Watch the people around.
Why is everyone staring at me?
Frowny face.
Okay, not sure I really care if everyone is staring or not.
Stop sucking fingers and give everyone a big smile.
Thud, thud, thud.
[And repeat above.]
Meanwhile, all of us whisper around the little guy speculating on when said poop might happen. Why are we so depraved, you ask? We were not always like this. But after a couple of episodes of upset stomach (G's that is, not ours), we quickly realized that if G's tummy is not happy, we're all pretty much on emergency duty the rest of the day. And not all the people/games in the world will make him happy. Not even Eeyore, the donkey, whom he likes very much otherwise.
When the happy event happens, a whoop of joy like no other will be heard from our house. S will look all daddy-proud. And I will promptly go eat some high calorie sweetish stuff to celebrate the occasion.
PS: baby and I doing very well. 3-months old and growing so rapidly that it scares me. There's no pace he can set that will be slow enough for me. I am already missing the days when he was such a teeny-tiny thing in my arms!
