The Cherub

Well, what can I say? He's getting bigger.

Franklin is now pushing 6 kilos. He likes his exercise as much as his bottle. And he seems to love Bob Marley. Last night, after his bath, he was inconsolable. Topside was wet, bottomside dry. Not too hot, not too cold. The boy was just a little bored. His mother, a saint, had a look in her eyes that I had never seen before, but one which I am certain that I have not seen the last of. It was a look that unveiled a view of the frayed cords of her sanity. I swooped in and picked up my son and took him off to the study and opened up a file of Marley. We sang and spun on the polished hardwood floor until I thought I was going to wind up ass over tit.

He's 7 weeks old and is moving beyond wailing as his primary means of communication. He's got all the vowel sounds down which means that he lies in the crib ululating as if he's calling a streetful of Muslims to prayer. I-yee-ya-a-laahh!

This is the last week that he'll be home all day long. When Maggie goes back to work the week after Chinese New Year, we'll take Franklin to stay with a baby minder a few blocks from here.

We had a couple nights where Frank slept straight through from 10 to 8 and we counted ourselves as very lucky. But, that didn't last. Maggie who has been home with the baby all day for three weeks now is completely worn out by the time the bath is done, and we both are struggling against our inertia when it comes to those three a.m. feeding sessions that are followed by thirty minutes of burping and pacing back and forth.

It's all worth it when I hold him in my lap and he grabs my index fingers so I can pull him into a sit-up. His eyes light right up with the pride of accomplishment. I'm proud of how quickly he's learning everything.

Like I said he likes the Beatles, and Bob Marley. Gershwin has a calming effect on him. I'm hoping that the jury is still out about the Rachmaninoff which has been played rather often over the last few days since the CD emerged from it's hiding spot. It's really typical of the ostentatious Taiwanese taste. They like their bling.

Ok, it's half past two. Got to rest up for the Super Bowl Monday morning.