Tag Archives: babies

I’ll trade you my virus for your bacterial infection

My son is finishing up his two-week spring break from preschool. For a long time, I couldn’t figure out why preschoolers needed a two-week spring break. Is preschool so stressful that it takes two weeks to recover from the wear and tear of the 10 weeks gone by since the month-long winter break? Do the children need two weeks to recruit their strength for that last big push toward preschool final exams?

I think I may have finally figured it out.

I think it will take a good two weeks to air out the building and rid it of kiddie germs after the winter of plague we’ve had.

This winter has been the most disease-infested season I can recall. I’ve worn dried baby snot on my shoulder since November. In that time, my family has contributed our quota of snot for the next five years. Fortunately, the baby was the only one who regularly decorated my shirts with it.

I used to be a pretty healthy guy. But that was back when I used to get enough sleep, have time for hobbies, and earn enough money to make ends meet. In other words, that was before I had little people painting snot art on my shirts.

Back then I only had to deal with adult germs. Adult germs are child’s play. Adult germs visit for a day, give you an excuse to call in sick, then pack up their sniffles and move along. Kids’ germs gang up on you. They drag you down, bind and gag you, and use your head and a frying pan as cymbals. Kids’ germs can be cruel.

And preschool is a veritable stock exchange of kids’ germs. My boy must be a pretty good trader, because he was always bringing home a new and exciting strain of something, purchased at only the cost of an old, used-up bug that we had already wrung dry of puke and mucus. We’re so proud of him.

attack on marine hospital

Even in the olden days, people just could not get enough of those addictive walk-in clinic fumes. Here, crowds jockey for position to get a whiff of some coveted quarantine effluvium.

At the worst of the epidemic, we could not get in to see our family doctor. We had to go to the walk-in clinic, which is the perfect place to go if you want to sample any of the diseases your family doesn’t already have. If you ever have a burning desire to wallow in the midst of contagion, spend a few hours in this waiting room. You’ll know what germ-laden miasma tastes like.

We waited out in the hall. The air was cold there, but at least we couldn’t see it.

For months, all we heard about was what a bad flu season it was. I don’t know anything about that. I do know that it was a bad season for pharyngitis, ear infections, strep throat, strep tongue, strep teeth, a mystery virus that probably wasn’t mononucleosis after all, and a host of other anonymous bugs. The one illness we did not contract, in the midst of this epic flu season, was the flu. I guess we’re just lucky like that.

Easter enjoyed by all, despite egg infestation

Easter was never a big Holiday to me when I was growing up. I was at the tail end of a large brood of children, so by the time I came along, the festivities associated with eggs and baskets had pretty much worn thin around my house.

That’s why I was so happy that I remembered to run to the store and get some things to make a basket for the kids on Saturday night. It wasn’t a lot of stuff, just enough to make it a bit more special than your average Sunday.

On Easter morning, I called the four-year-old over to where I had stashed the basket. “Look what I found!” I shouted to him. “Somebody must have left this for you and your brother during the night.”

boy with chocolate bunnies

Proving that you are what you eat, the boy’s head morphs into ebony and ivory bunnies. We are big on diversity in the animal-shaped confections we devour.

He came over and examined the contents carefully. He was pleased at the discovery.

“Oh my goodness,” I said. “This must mean it’s Easter. Who would have left this candy for you?”

“Did you see anybody around here?” he asked.

“I just saw a big, round, fluffy, cotton tail running through the bushes outside.”

He nodded as my description fell in line with the profile he was concocting in his head.  His eyes narrowed as the pieces fell into place. “The Easter Bunny,” he announced, in the same tone that Batman uses to identify The Joker as the culprit.

We hadn’t planned anything else, but at the last moment, my wife decided to hide some eggs. Aspiring hoarder that she is, she just happened to have some plastic eggs hanging around waiting to justify their existence. She rounded up some stickers and restaurant mints, but mostly she filled the eggs with pennies and nickels.

A minute later, my son came running to me. “Eggs!” he exclaimed. And then, as if eggs were as shocking a discovery as scorpions, he clarified the gravity of the situation, “In this house!”

His mother told him she wanted to see what the Easter Bunny had put inside the eggs, so he opened one up. When a couple of coins fell out, his eyes grew wide. “Money!” he cheered. “I didn’t see that coming!”

There were 14 eggs to find, and when he’d found about 11, he asked for my help. This was not so much fun for me, because I hadn’t seen where my wife hid them, and I already spend enough time looking for things around my house.

When we had finally found all the eggs, he pulled out the coins from his collection of loot and fed them to his piggy bank. The stickers and hard candy were soon forgotten. He’ll probably see the same ones again next year. Altogether, he probably raked in upwards of a dollar in cash. That, plus the fresh chocolate rabbits in his basket, made it an excellent Easter.

As for his little brother, he had some milk in his belly and a warm, soft mommy to cuddle up with. When you are barely one year old, that makes for just about the perfect Holiday.

Happy birthday, little Wahoo Wahoo

The baby is turning one. He’ll be a toddler soon. The other day, he stood up by himself for almost 10 seconds.

It’s hard to believe it’s been a whole year since this insane night:

Dispatches from the Delivery Room, Part 2: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Labor Pain

In that year, the child has been known by many names. There have even been the rare occasions when we have called him by his given name. His current nickname is Wahoo Wahoo. That is the onomatopoeia we use to describe his cry of parental manipulation.

teeth and dimples smile

Four teeth + two dimples = one great year!

For example, if my wife tells me, “I tried to put him down for a nap, but that didn’t last long.”

And I ask, “What did he do?”

She rolls her eyes and mimics: “Wahoo, Wahoo.”

Here are some of the other nicknames he’s sported over the past year:

Ginger and his brother, Mary Ann: a nicknaming debacle

He’s a good baby, but I’m ready for him to grow out of some of his baby hang-ups. I’ve never known an infant who hates riding in the car as much as Wahoo Wahoo does. He screams about being in a car like Daddy screams about being on an airplane; it’s a most unbecoming display. Maybe when he’s one and we put him into the forward-facing, big-boy seat, he’ll be less put out by the experience. They say it’s safest to keep him facing backward until he outgrows that seat, but I think it’s safest to have him in a car where the driver is not always distracted by inconsolable wailing directly behind his head.

Wahoo Wahoo begins his second year of life with four very sharp teeth and more hair than any three other toddlers combined. He has had his four front teeth for several months now without sprouting a fifth tooth. His attitude seems to be, “Who needs grinding? As long as I can bite good and hard, I’m good.”

This is a bit about the trouble caused by his first tooth.

A Land Shark is born: baby’s first tooth

He was born with a healthy thatch atop his head and it has grown skyward ever since. I am happy to report that the back of his head is now getting its share of hair too. For a while, the top was full, but the back and sides were very sparse, giving him the exact opposite hairstyle as his daddy.

If Don King and Cosmo Kramer had a baby:

The little kid with the big wig

For my wife, this birthday is bittersweet. Mothers seem to want their babies to always stay babies for some reason. Dads want their kids to grow quickly into sensible youngsters who can be threatened into keeping quiet when the big game is on.

Even so, I think I will miss some of his baby characteristics. Very soon, he will be walking. That will mean the end of the pitter-patter of his little hands and knees as he run-crawls to greet me when I come home from work. I’m all in favor of progress, but I’m pretty sure I’ll miss that.

Can a baby get some credit?

Every time the baby goes to the doctor, they ask about milestones. These are things he should be doing at certain ages. It went from making eye contact to sitting up to rolling over to crawling. Recently, we have met and passed the pulling himself up to stand milestone.

Tracking these standard milestones is fine, but it’s disappointing that the doctor doesn’t seem to care about the entertaining stuff our baby is doing. Our baby has passed a lot of other milestones too.

The High five milestone

Our baby is quite advanced in his high five skills. Maybe a lot of 10-month-olds can give a high five when prompted, but our child initiates the high five. He holds up an open hand and gives you that look that says, “Daddy Dog, can a baby get some skin?”

He is satisfied with all the high fives he gets in response. But if you make a “chit” noise with your mouth, to exaggerate the sound of two palms striking each other, he will reward you with a lovely smile and probably make you one of his regular high five buddies.

For a while, he even experimented with the fist bump, to which the proper sound effect was a tongue click. In the end, he found this activity overly pretentious and less sincere than the high five.

The Don’t go to any trouble; I can serve myself milestone

This is a milestone that all breastfed babies probably achieve. It’s odd that the doctor never asks about it because it is a good measure of ingenuity and coordination. Our baby met this milestone some time ago, but it seems like he keeps getting more nimble and insistent.

Babies learn to know where their bread is buttered. Though they may be eating other foods, there is still nothing like a fresh brewed pot of milk. Our baby has perfected the art of grabbing hold of one of nature’s milk jugs with both hands, while turning himself sideways across his mother and diving directly at the spigot. The turning maneuver he can accomplish without using his arms. This lets him keep his eyes, and his hands, on the prize.

The I understand that something nasty just went down inside my diaper milestone

This is another universal milestone that doctors should ask about, but don’t. It shows the development of awareness and an appreciation for social awkwardness. Younger babies can do all sorts of mischief inside their diapers without batting an eye. That bubbling cauldron of goo is no concern of theirs.

You know your baby is developing some self-awareness when a bottom-side blowout makes him freeze in place and stare at you with wide eyes, even before his big brother yells out, “Daddy, the baby just ripped a hole in his diaper!” The baby knows he’s absolutely tearing it up. What he doesn’t yet know is whether he should be proud or ashamed of it. Hence, the wide, questioning eyes.

Don’t worry, baby. In a year or two, your brother will have taught you that the sound your butt just made is the most hilarious noise in the world. There is nothing to do but laugh, and try to blame it on him.

wide eyed baby

“Oh my! Did somebody order a diaper shredder?”