Gavin, who is now 14 months old, now takes hug requests. If you ask him for a hug he'll crawl up into your lap and put his arms around your neck. Though maybe not "you" personally since I don't necessarily know who's reading this. If you're someone I love then you're probably on this list. If not, well, go get your own baby to hug.
Sorry, I don't mean to be so confrontational. I just got back from the gym so I probably have roid rage or something. I'm kidding. I'm not a rager. Just like there are happy drunks and violent drunks and sad drunks, I get all 'roid tranquil. It's like Ativan for the glutes. Again, I kid. I don't do steroids. I'm just naturally very, very muscular and have a lot of back and face hair.
But seriously (classic comic transition!), I did join a gym. And so did Gavin. Kind of. The gym I go to has a babysitting service called Kids Club so he's enrolled, though we haven't used it yet. He had to get his picture taken for his membership card just like his moms. I'm sure he had no idea that he was getting his picture taken, but he thought the orb shaped digital camera on top of the computer monitor at the check-in desk was pretty cool so he was smiling. That's my boy, totally photogenic, even by accident. I'm a little nervous about leaving him there only because I don't know the people and stuff. But I can peek in on him and make sure he's okay. I actually did peek into Kids Club tonight on my way out and there were a few kids in there. The two women working the club didn't seem to be paying any attention to them for the most part, though most were older kids who didn't need someone to watch them every second. There was a younger girl, maybe two or three, playing by herself and I saw her dad walk in to pick her up. He was wearing those creepy frogman shoes. I can't say those are a thing I understand. I mean, who knows, maybe they're wonderful and I'm a fool for not wearing them, but I don't think I'd like them. I can't even wear flip flops because I can't stand anything between my toes. For years my dad gave me those toe socks for Christmas (I mean, it wasn't the only thing he gave me, mind you), you know, the socks that are like gloves for your feet. Yuck to the 10th power. Or a higher power, even. Yuck to God. Anyway, hopefully this man in the frogman shoes is a perfectly good father, though it was almost 8 p.m. and that little girl seemed too young to be up partying so late at night.
So, yeah, the hugging. Adorable. He's also big on kissing. Always with tongue. Sometimes with teeth. He's a very affectionate little dude. Stacy said that when she picks him up at daycare he runs over to her and throws his arms around her neck. Then, after he's gotten his Mommy fix, he toddles off to play with a toy or toward something that catches his attention. She said that yesterday after he was done hugging her he went over and hugged Shelly, his caregiver. Shelly also played some version of "I'm gonna get you," which made Gavin laugh. When Stacy remarked that that was the first time she'd heard him laugh at day care Shelly said, "Oh, we laugh all day." I love this. It was just a week or so ago when Shelly reported to Stacy that she'd managed to get Gavin to smile at day care. Now they're yucking it up. I'm so glad he likes day care and that he's having fun. I know that because he's in day care he'll be setting fire to our neighbor's garages and torturing cats in no time, but he's already got two moms, so he was already juvenile delinquent bound.
Gavin's been waking up pretty rough this past week. He's not getting enough rest at day care and that's really kicking his ass, I think. He naps for about an hour at day care and at home he naps for a little bit in the morning (this is fading fast, though) and for about an hour and a half in the afternoon. So he's pretty cranky these days. On Tuesday morning Stacy got him up and handed him off to me so that she could use the bathroom. He was super pissed about this. He wanted to nurse now and not one second later. He fought me so hard when I was trying to change his diaper, kicking his legs and twisting his body and arching his back and flailing his hands all the while screaming his head off. He is so strong. That's a big part of why I joined a gym. The way I figure it, by the time he's four years old he'll be strong enough to beat me up. I'm hoping to be at least able to keep up with him.
The other day Gavin wrote me a note. I'd put a note in his lunch telling him I loved him and when we got his lunch back my note was still in there, but on the back was some scribbling in crayon and Shelly had written "Mama D" at the top and "Love, Gavin" at the bottom. It was pretty much the cutest thing ever. I put another note in his lunch tonight, so maybe he'll reciprocate. But I won't get my hopes up. I mean, he's a really busy guy and there's a lot to do at day care. He can't just sit around and write love notes all day. Alas.
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