Week 23 Day 3: Rock out with your [socks off]

My pregnant neighbor is outside smoking, absentmindedly rubbing her belly. They're having a girl. Due really soon. They must be so excited.

Speaking of excited, the best thing to happen all day was getting this photo of my son rocking out in his stroller. Brad, the man behind Baby 2 Momz, made it for us. I plan to have it blown up and framed. I'm not going to lie, I'd love it if Gavin became an ax-man. Laura wants him to be a drummer, but I'm hoping he'll pick up the guitar even if that does mean an inevitable annoying obsession with Jimi Hendrix during his adolescence.

Speaking of annoying (I'm going to try to use this segue as much as possible), one of Gavin's new party tricks is to try to pull his bib off while I'm feeding him. I am not sure what his objection is, but he is certainly quite adamant about it. Some of his bibs have snap or Velcro closures and he can tear those off Hulk Hogan style, but he also has some over the head bibs that he can't and boy does this piss him off. As you can imagine, trying to feed a child who has either flipped his bib over his face or has his hands and arms a-flailing in front of his face in a desperate attempt to escape from bib hell is next to impossible. The probability of him bumping the spoon with his hand and then rubbing said food into his eyes is very high. I try to be as patient as possible, tucking his bib back down, gently taking his hands away from his face so I can get a spoon in there. But it's hard. I've explained to him that there are some non-negotiable items in his life and that this was one of them. And I've told him that these items apply to all people in the house, not just him. It's just that he's usually the only one impacted by these items. They include, "When you have poop in your pants you have to change your pants" and "When you have food on your face and hands you have to wash your face and hands." It's only logical that people who get lots of food on their hands and faces every time they eat have to wear a bib. Someone suggested just feeding him in his diaper and I have done that before on a really hot day. Unfortunately he was eating some weird Japanese green Stacy had pureed up for him and it stained his chest green. Going bibless also exposes his high chair straps to food contact and those things aren't easy to take out and clean. I think it might be time for a painter's smock. Something that he can't tear his way out of so easily.

Gavin needs more kids his age to play with when we go to the community center. He's at that age where toys become infinitely more desirable if another child is playing with them. So Gavin did a lot of toy snatching today at Kids Zone and the kids were old enough to know that that wasn't cool and they didn't care that he was just a baby, they were playing with that T-Rex figure first and they'll be damned if some little bald boy who can't even walk yet is going to take it and put it in his mouth. Fair enough. There was one little girl there, probably about 4-years-old, who Gavin was managing to really piss off. Not only did he try to snatch her T-Rex, he then tried to use her to pull himself to a standing position, which meant grabbing onto her jacket and yanking. She did not like this, either. Mind you, I stopped him very quickly. I even nipped the T-Rex heist in the bud. But there's only so much I can do. I think it's safe to say that Gavin probably extinguished any future dating possibilities with this girl.

While we were playing a woman walked in with two kids and made a bee-line toward me with a look on her face that said, "Hey, I know you!" But I didn't recognize her at all. But then she asked if I knew her husband Steve and it all became clear to me. She is a friend of a friend and someone I haven't seen for several years. But we got to talking and she's pretty cool and now we're Facebook friends so it's official. I should mention that Gavin tried to pick pocket her, lifting her cell phone right out of her pocket, and yet she still had nothing but nice things to say about him. Her three-year-old son is so, so cute. I don't exactly want Gavin to hurry up and turn three or anything, but seeing a her son made me excited about when Gavin will be that age and how he might be.

So I have a new favorite blog now and I am sharing it with you even though you will undoubtably drop my blog like a pile of hot rocks as soon as you read it. Mimi Smartypants will be your go-to gal for funny musings about parenting and the odd ephemera of life from now on. I understand. I've been left for worse.