Sunday Sunday

We had a very happy baby today, which was perfect timing since we had to take him to church for three hours. All he did the whole time was smile, laugh and hit on girls 4 months older than him.

It was almost a milestone for him. He's usually a content and happy baby, but today was his most smiley day recorded. And it was the first time I've been able to repeatedly make him laugh with the same thing (shaking his hat in my mouth like a dog) which was really rewarding for me, because usually I have constantly come up with new material to get him to smile. My job just got a whole lot easier.

After church we went for a quick walk with Grant today. Rather than put him in the stroller we just strapped him to our baby carrier. We had know idea that it would turn him into the worlds cutest ninja.

He also goes on about a snowman, tall, tall, tall

Mommy and Daddy have taught me a lot of great things in the few months I've been with them. They've taught me my name, their names (Mommy and Daddy respectivly), they've taught me all about colors and math and what diaper time is. Daddy has even taught me the full history of a place call Middle Earth that sounds really weird.

The most import thing though, that Daddy has taught me is that there are a constantly decreasing number of speckled frogs on a speckled log somewhere along side a nice a cool pool somewhere. I'm not quite sure on the significance of these frogs but they seem to be really important to him because he brings them up ALL THE TIME.

Still for a man as old as my daddy to be so deeply entranced by some amphibians with bad complexion and their eating/bathing habits there must be some symbolic importance. So every time that he starts signing about them (oh yeah, did I mention he always is singing when he tells me about them, the mystery deepens), I can't help but sit and listen intently, in hopes of discerning whether or not my father is trying to teach me something too secret to speak aloud, or if I was born into a family of nutjobs.

Like the other night, my parents strapped me into that most uncomfortable carseat and dragged me clear to somewhere I didn't want to go in the far off land of Draper. Normally I'm very good in the car, but it was dark and far and stupid so I started to express my discomfort in the most elequent way I knew how. Before I could get to my fourth point about the chafing, my dad started singing that song. I was so taken in to the mystery that for the next 20 minutes he and Mommy sang, I was so distracted that I couldn't form a coherent argument the rest of the way there.

So it's a strange song. Here's a picture of me in my thinking chair. Another place Daddy will frequently sing it to me.

Long nights and longer explanations

There comes a point in ever every new father's life when he has to swallow his pride and admit that this parenting stuff isn't as easy as we thought it was when we were watching our parents mess up at it. When Grant was born I was sure of couple things: We'd read to him often, nothing he wore would be pink and he would never get to sleep in our bed unless he had a nightmare caused by exposure to the early works of Jim Hensen.

Nothing against people who let there kids sleep with them, I just know that when I sleep I tend to roll around a lot and occasionally sleep-punch, so I figured it would be safer just to keep the little guy as far away from that as we could. However lately he's been waking up crying really bad from a combination of the horrible eczema mentioned below and just being hungry. Normally I can console him with a bottle but there are times when he just won't take it. Sally, being the awesome mom that she is, will step up to the plate and feed him, but sometimes she's so tired that she opts to feed him in bed. Plans to put him back in his crib soon fall be the way side and he ends up sleeping with us for hours.

So you see, I may have gone against my original ideals, but it's for a collections of perfectly logical and natural reasons.

And besides, who can fight such sweetness?

3 months old

So today I'm offically 3 months old, and my Chinese grandma who is staying with us said that I'm already 2. Here's why. When I was born, I was already one. Then after the Chinese new year, I get another year. This 2 is my "informal" age and it will stay at 2 till the next lunar new year comes.
But really, I'm a big boy now. I weigh 14lb 5oz today. The reason why I know this is that I have really bad eczema and I went to see the doctor today. He prescribed cortizone and after using it, I have felt much better.
Now that my neck is stronger, I love to look around and see what's around. Also because I have strong legs, I like to look around while standing. You have to admit, the view is much better.

Like a Weed

So I got home from work today and this is what was waiting for me. Grant has sprung his first leak. I know kids grow faster than we can blog about them, but this outfit drowned the poor guy over Christmas and now look at him.

It's a good thing we have no shortage of clothes for him. I just hope he grows out of growing out of things soon.

Grant's tummy time - 2 months

This was taken on January 15, 2010, and Grant was 2 months old, already! And he's got a younger cousin, already!

Baby's First Christmas

Good gosh, another Christmas season has come and gone.

I shouldn't say that in such a humdrum manner. While it was just another Christmas for Sally and I, for little Grant it was “Baby's First Christmas.”

All in all, I think mid-November is a great time to have a baby in modern society (not as good as early November, but I'm trying not to hold that against the kid). One of the few downsides however is that they spend “Baby's First Christmas” mostly just laying there.

All in all, Grant was adorable, but not as entertaining as he could have been.
We'll work on that for next year.

Still it was an excellent Christmas and one we will cherish always.

The first big exciting thing this year was Grant finally got to meet his cousin. We've been telling him for a while now that he's not the only kid around and I think now he believes us. My sister and her family flew in from Cleveland to spend the holidays with us which of course included my two-year-old nephew, Jaxson.

Jax was a ton of fun to have come visit. Despite having moved in over a year ago, with all the new stuff for the baby and the usual holiday mess, our house looked like we were still in the process of moving. Jaxson didn't care. He loved boxes and had a great time finding new boxes to bring out and show us.

Jaxson was much more entertaining than his little cousin. His parents have apparently been teaching him what a lot of different thing say and he was (after a little coaxing) more than willing to tell us what says what. He did the standard material, “What does a dog say?” “What does an elephant say?” and “What does a baby say?”

He kept it fresh though with some new stuff, like “What does a Pirate say?”

I think my favorite thing though was when he mom would ask him who Grant was, he would say in his cutest two-year-old voice “Baby Gwant.” It was beyond precious.

A few days later I got a phone call around midnight. My caller ID said it was Grandma Burdett but when I answered a deep, yet familiar voice was on the other end. It was one of those awkward moments when you can tell the other person is expecting you to recognize them, but you have no idea who they are.

My mind was racing as fast as a new father's mind can at this time of night trying to figure out who it could be. I rule out my uncles right away, and then when through my cousins one by one in my head until I realized it was Danny.

Danny had taken the bus up from California to surprise everyone for Christmas. It was nice to talk to him for a minute before crawling back to bed.

After that, things were per normal until Christmas Eve. We went up to Grandma B's for the usual dinner, pajamas and family togetherness.

It was fun to see everyone and Grant of course was a big hit. He was a very well behaved baby, sleeping most of the time and letting anyone who wanted to take a turn hold him.

After everyone else had left, if was just my immediate family (except the Nebakers, who were in Wyoming). As the night wore on people started drifting of to sleep, except Grant. It was his first night away from home and he wasn't happy about it. He just got fussier and fussier.

As everyone else went to bed, my mom and I took turns holding the little guy. Finally I got to the point where I was too tired so I laid down on a couch in my Grandma's front room. I told my mom to wake me up with Grant got too fussy again and I'd take him downstairs to his mommy.

The couch that was available was about 6 inches to short for me to really lay down on, but I was so tired that sleeping bent at the waist didn't seem to bad. Through the rest of the uncomfortable night, I would wake up every hour or so, not hear my son, assume only a couple minutes had past and then go back to sleep. It wasn't until my Mom woke me up around 6:30 and told me to go to bed that I learned what happened.

I guess my mom had fallen asleep holding Grant. Sally had started to wonder where her son was, went up and found the two of them and took the baby for a feeding, sending my mom to bed and not taking a second thought to finding me.

I spent the rest of Christmas with a sore back but an excuse to tease my wife which is a trade I'll take any day.

Actual Christmas day was very by the book for my family. We opened gifts as a family, got ready for the traditional breakfast complete with blintzes and fauna cooking. Then we did cousin gifts and the money hunt. After that the Shinney's made their way out to see the Shinney side of family, for more gifts and even more food. Grant even found they bendy plastic Santa. But since I helped him, I figured I was entitled to his candy bar.

As time wore on, we decided it was time to take the little one home. As we headed out towards the Interstate, he started getting really fussy. We considered stopping back at Grandma Burdett's to feed him but fortunately once we got on I-15 the sooth sounds of the open road lowed him to sleep.

I don't know what a 6 week old baby dreams about. But I hope for that one hour at least, he dreamed of shiny colors, new smells and being surrounded by people who love him.

I hope he dreamed of Christmas.