Week 15 Day 5: Baby on board

So I accidentally waterboarded Gavin today. As I've mentioned, he's not very wild about the whole sippy cup thing (just like I am not wild about the whole "sippy cup" name. Why do so many things for babies sound like they were named by babies? Is there some kind of under 5 focus group that's consulted?). Getting him to ingest liquids during his meals is very difficult. And so today he had a sippy cup and was playing with it, chewing on the drinking spout part, making that teeth against rubber squeak sound, which he very much enjoyed. He was sitting on my lap facing me. At one point he put the cup in his mouth in an "I'm going to drink this" way, but he hasn't quite gotten the whole "tip it back to receive liquid via gravity" yet. So I tipped him backwards so that the back of his head was on my knees, basically forcing water down his throat and said, "Now you're drinking!" In my defense, I thought there was only a little tiny bit of water in the cup and that he'd get maybe a mouthful at most. Thankfully Gavin is smart and turned his head so that the water stopped gushing into his mouth and instead got his pajamas soaked with water. And the coughing. There was plenty of that. My mom and sister Amanda were there as witnesses, so I feel it is only right for me to come clean about this now, lest they decide to go public. As for Gavin's sippy cup issues, I've probably set him back years.

When I told Stacy about the waterboarding incident she said, "You didn't waterboard him," as if there was somehow any question in my mind about whether or not I was torturing my son or engaging in hyperbole.

Mom and Amanda came over this morning to babysit so that I could drive to school and sign up for what classes I'll teach in the fall. It felt good to be back in Ann Arbor, though kind of sad since some of my favorite people aren't there any more. But some are, like Meg, who bought me lunch for my birthday and listened to me talk and talk and talk about Gavin. It's hard not to. It might even be impossible.

When I got home they were all out for a walk and when they rolled up the driveway I went outside to greet them and see my boy. And I noticed that they had dressed him like an escapee from an old folks home. He had his sun hat on, which is normal, but he was also wearing these old hand-down pajamas that look a lot like red long johns but with red, white, and blue striped cuffs. He had white sweat socks pulled up over top of his PJ feet, and to top everything off he had on his bathrobe. My mom said she wanted to put him in a lightweight sweatshirt but couldn't find one in his closet. So she just put him in his bathrobe, plopped him in his wheelchair, and pushed him around the garden while he soiled himself and babbled incoherently about Ladybird Johnson and "the war."

Despite the crazed get-up, he did look mighty cute. But then, he looks cute in everything.

We're still working on standing unassisted (well, he is. I had that down months ago). Today he very nearly beat his five second record. He stood for almost six seconds. Maybe five and a half. Staying still for any length of time is not his strong suit and an overall general wiggliness paired with a fleeting relationship with balance is a tough combination.

On Sunday morning Lisa, my best friend from California, is going to be here with her son Brenden, who is six weeks older than Gavin. Brenden and Gavin will be meeting for the first time. And I will be meeting Brenden for the first time. And Lisa will finally meet Gavin. Brenden is, like Gavin, super adorable. I am fearful that having so much cute in one room could be dangerous. There could well be some kind of implosion.