On the two days a week that Zach has class, I pick up 'Rad, we hang out, I feed him, and I put him to bed. On the weekdays that he doesn't have class, I like seeing and hearing them play together at home. The only obstacle to this quality father-son time is me. I hear them playing and giggling and talking and I want to be in the mix. I want to shove my face in front of 'Rad's and make silly noise and say "Check the chicken? Chucking chicken? Are you going to chuck/check the chicken?" (He's into poultry as of late; Amy said when she calls him a "turkey" it cracks him up) I want to squeeze his little cheeks and be the one who makes him laugh, all of which defeats the idea of the two boys having some alone time together. As much as I want a break sometimes, when the opportunity to get one presents itself I have to physically extract myself from the room. God, I'm needy.
'Rad's been taking on a new persona overnight, one that I appears when I wake him up in the morning. I like to call him "M.J.":
Somehow, one mitten works its way off one hand and stays on the other. Connor seems oblivious to the fact that he's mimicking one of the greatest pop stars of all time. He hasn't started grabbing his crotch yet, but I'm sure that will come with time.
Connor has also taken to - as Z likes to call it - motorboating. No boobs are involved, but he will blow air out from between his closed, luscious little lips while on the changing pad, in his car seat, or just hanging out. If he catches me laughing as this new ability, he stops immediately and looks at me sternly and with an air of betrayal, as if I've laughed at a painting he worked long hard hours completing and has just shown me.
Laughing is my reaction to almost everything he does, but not necessarily because it's all funny. I laugh because he cracks me up when he motorboats. I laugh because I'm amazed at how he voraciously attacks the spoon at breakfast and dinner. But mostly, I laugh because I can't believe, still can't believe, that he's my kid, that he's so cool, that I could be responsible for him having a scarring and unhappy childhood (as much as I'm railing against it, of course). I laugh because I'm scared.
I can't believe that I haven't taken any pictures of 'Rad in the bath until tonight. So here's one that keeps his baby parts well-hidden.
The next time we give this little dude a bath, he'll be sitting up in the tub. When he stretched out in the tub tonight, his feet hit the end of it. This is going to be fun.