Paternity Log 8.1

This is one of those days where the morning seemed filled with infinite possibility. The Boy was happy and smiling. We picked up Greg and headed for the Indian buffet at the new punjabi place in Racine (not bad, I'm witholding judgement until I can try ordering off of the menu). I even got the pantry and the lazy susan cabinet (is there a real name for that?) cleared out. Once you toss out all the crap (battered 3 year old pack of ramen noodles, 1 year old open bag of toffee tidbits fused into a single mass, cut-rate aluminum foil from an oldcraft project, and so on...), there's actually a lot of room in our cupboards.

Afte lunch, we ran a couple of errands, and then headed home. The Boy slept... and slept... and slept. In retrospect, I should have awakened him for his much overdue feeding. But I didn't. When hunger finally woke him, he was in a total freakin' rage. 'WHY HAVEN'T YOU &@$%#ing FED ME YET?!?! AUUUGGGGH! YOU FARGING BASSHOLE!!!!', he yelled again and again(or would have, had he already learned to speak). He continued with his rant as I attempted to feed him, and still continued after I had finished feeding him, burping him, and changing him. Finally, after a particularly brutal barrage of baby obscenities (just trust me), I repeated his outburst back at him. He was so shocked at my filthy mouth that he immediately quieted.

Now, he's in the bouncy seat and gurgling and smiling at me as I type. Of course, the entire scenario ate nearly two hours of my day, and all of my psychological reserves. I just want to take a nap. And he wants to play. HE can be such an inconsiderate jerk. But he is cute when he smiles...