It's a Tuesday holiday in Taiwan, but I gave myself the weekend off, stringing together four days of rest. I have ten more waking hours before I try to retire and then another possibly three and a half before my son decides to.
Awhile back it seemed like he was sleeping all the way through the night. I think it's just that he's staying up later, now, but still taking a bottle every four hours. From the early days of his life, it's been a challenge for us day after day to get the little fella to go to sleep. (Republicans like to talk about the miracle of life--what's the new buzzword in Washingon? "Culture of Life," that's it. Sounds nice, but will it play in Texas?) I think the miracle of life is holding a baby in your arms after a long day at work and watching him drift off to sleep. The miracle is that we as unschooled parents are able to come up with a different method of convincing him to give up the fight and go to wherever it is he goes when his body twitches and he slips into unconsciousness.
That's the bit I like the most. I mean, after having my finger squeezed, and listening to him squeal with delight when I read poems to him, and the dancing. Mom and I agree that it's also quite a kick to introduce him to new folks. Frankie met one of the secretaries from work on Sunday evening. The next day, she would not talk about anything else all day long. Apparently people who are not related think he's the most adorable baby that has ever been carried across the earth.
Franklin had a cough a couple weeks back. It seemed pretty severe. Enough so to go to the doctor and risk further infection from the snotty kids there. And snotty parents.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment