This Parenthood stuff....

...is a little disconcerting, I'll tell ya. It's one in the morning, still kind of early for us, Franklin will likely fall asleep within the hour. Problem is, though, he only had three feedings Thursday and we're trying to get number four down him with limited success.

Maggie and I got off work about nine and picked up Frankie soon after that and brought him home. There's a baby goods shop just next to the Carrefour up the street from our apartment block and the three of us stopped in to buy some new nipples with bigger holes or a different shape. Teacher Swim thinks that maybe the nipples we changed to a few days ago didn't feel right in the boy's mouth. So we got some more nipples. He didn't like the new nipples either, once we got him home, so I went and dug through the nipple pile in our dish dryer and found an older nipple of which Franklin developed some fondness before.

30 minutes later, Maggie and I have passed him back and forth and can't seem to get 10cc into him. Not even five. The top of the bottle is slightly loosened so as not to create a vacuum. Frank's just got more on his mind right now than feeding. We just had some pillows made for pillow cases which we bought in Nepal. One of them is embroidered with an interesting key pattern and some Buddhist symbols and it's just too much for the child. If he's not scratching his legs, then he's feeling up the cushions. He's mesmorized by the pattern. Distracted.

I can tell when Mom is getting to the end of her tether...probably because I am who I am, so I thought I'd better slip into Dad mode when I heard her use that tone of voice. I lept from where I was studying and stood in front of them and looked at him--precious, precious child that he is-- and his angelic face that seemed to coo, "Why Father, I don't know what on Earth Mother could be so upset about?" I bit the inside of my cheek and stood there, arms akimbo in my boxers and told him that I did not approve of how he was progressing on this particular feeding. You know what he did? Stuck his pointy little tongue out at me!

No, I'm not kidding. He did. And I reminded him that I was his father and that it would not stand for him to treat me with such disrespect. And guess what. He did it again.

Well, I wasn't going to be put upon in this way (no, I didn't kick him in the bollocks) and I told him so. I reminded him that as long as he lived under this roof he was going to finish his bottle expeditiously. No sooner had I gotten to the /oo/ in "roof" than he was poking that triangular muscle out of his mouth at me again. That's it, I said, you're grounded. No airplane rides for you for a week. He squealed and clapped at me. I told him that if he didn't straighten up and fly right, there would be no music box before he went to bed. He started laughing and going nuts. I don't know if it was my clown wig and funny red nose, or what, but Maggie thinks that he understood every word that I said and thinks that I am just the most fun dad he could imagine.

Well, we'll just see about THAT.

Frank's American passport has arrived. It wasn't easy, but the $2000 check to Tom DeLay's defense fund was money well spent.