Squealer’s Wheel

Owen sounds like a squeaky doorhinge. No giggles and coos; it’s more like the sound one would make if one fell off the lip of the Grand Canyon: “EEEEEEEEEEEEyaaaaahhhh!”

It’s motherfucking adorable is what it is. Very highpitched, yet conversational.

Him: “EeeeeeeyEEEEEEaaaah?”
Me: “No way, dude!”
Him: “Errrrgaaaheeeeee!”
Me: “I don’t even believe it! It cannot be true!”
Him: “Illgeeeeeeh!” [sound of spitup running into his ear]

And he’s been moved to the head of the class at “school.” Literally. He used to be stationed in the little-little infants room, which was actually just the other side of a low wall. Now there’s a new baby — two new babies, actually — and he’s in the front room with the “big kids,” the ones who are seven and ten months old, holding their own bottles and shaving their five o’clock stubble. He even sat by himself in an Exersaucer! With no one holding him up! Having a conversation with an older woman at least twice his age, with three times more hair. She was seated in the Exersaucer across from him. It was so cute I almost spit up on my own blouse.

He’s gonna be such a little Romeo, wooin’ all the ladies. I’m going to have to keep an eye on him.

And he’s been in a pretty good mood for most of this week. Very little of that inexplicable archy-backed, red-faced screaming thing he pulled last week, although his appetite today was alarmingly low. As Iain said, he’ll eat when he’s hungry, and sure enough he drank down his regular bottle plus an extra ounce before bedtime. I feel better about it, although I’m still picturing enormous bloodthirsty parasites living in his lower intestine.

Reading Stephen King every night before bed probably isn’t helping [I’m almost done with this damned Dark Tower series].

Let’s see … anything else to report? I know his Grandma is reading so I want to make sure she has all the latest information.

I guess the other thing he’s been doing lately is gripping my bottle-holding hand fiercely as I feed him, as if to say, “Look, woman, I ain’t having none of this burping business, so don’t you dare take my baba away from me. Keep it right there until I tell you otherwise.” What can I say, he’s the boss. And when he’s not got my hands in a deathgrip, he’s holding onto the bottle itself. It’s so amazing. I let go for probably a full minute or two this morning and he HELD IT ALL BY HIMSELF. And then he went deaf from all the squealing and praise I gurgled at him.

Little goober. I love him so much. As good ol’ Vince used to say, “Every day is a new and exciting adventure.” Say true.

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