Cake Cures Everything

My son, in all his craziness, seems to be having a hard time understanding that I do not like it when he stands and plays on one of our dining room chairs. He has gotten his legs stuck once, and I'm sure he's fallen off a couple of time. According to him, there is no lesson to be learned.

Tonight, he tumbled off again while climbing up – it was a short tumble, and he landed on his bottom. I didn't think it was anything serious, so I just gave him an "I told you so" look and continued to do whatever important thing that I was doing (cutting up a piece of brownie). He sat on the floor for a moment – I assume to build momentum for the inevitable cry-fest – then got up and waddled over to me in the kitchen, arms outstretched and crying. It's like the universal sign for "I need some TLC!"

But before he got to me, he saw that I was holding a plate in my hand, and on top of that plate was a piece of brownie. He clapped his hands together, and in an instant, his frown (literally) turned upside down, and he gleefully yelped, "CAKE!"

He ran back to the dining table and waiting for me to prop him up on his booster chair. As we worked together to polish off that brownie, he gave a big, chocolate grin and declared, "Yum!" after each bite. So as you see, cake indeed does make it all better.

Boy, Do I Feel Dumb!

Before cooking dinner tonight, I had to pull out a Dutch Oven from the back of the cabinet where I keep my pots and pans. In the process, I had to also pull out all the different cookware that I didn't need and placed them on the floor beside me. I was making a lot of noise, clanking away, mumbling to myself about how one day I'll have storage that's actual functional.

My son was right there next to me, and started to yell out "DAUUUMMM!" over and over again. Thinking that maybe he heard me call the whole process dumb, I replied with, "Yes, this IS very dumb!" But then he kept saying "DAUUUMMM!" and pointing at the pots and pans I've placed on the floor.

Then it hit me. He was calling them DRUMS because that is what he likes to do with my pots and pans – he likes to bang on the lids as if he were playing the bongos! I had to laugh for my fear that I had just inadvertently taught my son how to call something stupid, when all he was trying to tell me was that he wanted to play drums!

Dancing Fool

Just now, as a song comes on Yo Gabba Gabba!, he quickly stops playing with his magnetic doodler and starts dancing.

The other day, during a Tarjay run, I put him down in front of the store after carrying him from the parking lot. A car happened to pass by, blasting Michael Jackson through open windows, and as soon as my son's feet his the ground, he starts dancing.

My son is a dancing fool.

Cheerios Explosion

The baby and I were at a Corner Bakery today meeting with a group of other 2008 moms. I whipped out his bowl of Cheerios and before I could scatter some on the table, he slapped the bowl and sent the cereal flying everywhere.

I used to think I would be mortified when things like this would happen to me, but as I heard a woman at a nearby table giggle at what happened, I just had to look up, smile at her, and tickle my baby as "punishment" for making such a mess.

And The Things People Do

It really fascinates me how people interact with mothers and their babies in public.

The other day, while we were at Target, the baby was sitting in the shopping cart. A couple of young women were nearby, and as they passed us, one of them reached out to the baby to tickle him.

Again, I appreciate that people think my kid is cute, but I just wonder if people believe that when it comes to babies, there's no such thing as "personal space"? A mom in one of my moms' groups told a story about how a stranger came up to her at Costco and peeked inside her sling to look at her baby. Hello, privacy?

So yeah, strangers. While we were at the checkout line in Target, both the cashier and the lady behind were saying hello to the baby. Of course, social smile-happy baby that he is, he's grinning from ear to ear. The lady behind us comments, "look at that, he's flirting with strangers already!" I respond by telling her he flirts with all the ladies, to which she replies (quite unnecessary, I thought) "oh, I come with too much baggage."

Sheesh.

The Things People Say

As I was loading the baby onto the shopping cart at Trader Joe's today, a lady a few feet away from us commented that he's such a cute baby. I smiled, and she followed with, "Good job!"

I felt like I was given the thumbs up for popping out a good-looking kid.

Going Out in Public

After having a baby, going out in public has changed. While there were always those who would nod or smile at you in the event of eye contact, I've noticed that the rate of this happening has increases when I am out with my baby.

(Gee, what a way to make me feel invisible when I'm not mom.)

Today at the grocery store, an older lady stopped us in the aisle to express her surprise that my baby can sit up so well, "seeing how small he is." Now, because my son was born seven weeks early, he IS small, and sometimes I worry about his growth. His pediatrician is always trying to remind me not to worry about it, but it's just something I can't help. I wanted to reply to the lady, "Thanks for reminding me that my son is a runt." Instead, I figured I'd play nice and told her how old he is and that he was born prematurely. We chatted a bit about babies' development before parting ways.

Earlier, at another store, we were in the checkout line when my son had leaned over to the side and was gnawing on the fabric of the shopping cart cover. All of a sudden, the lady in front of us came around and grabbed my son to pull him back upright. I was a little shocked and caught off guard; while strangers have certainly patted my son before, this was the first time someone grabbed him. I think she was trying to tell me not to let them lean off like that, and I told her that my son was fine, he just wanted to chew on something. I thanked her anyway and stuck a clean cloth wipe in my son's drooling mouth.

We were at another store a few days ago, when another mom with her baby daughter stopped us in one of the aisles. She asked me how old my son was, to which I replied with the usual, "eight months, but he was born seven weeks early." I then felt obligated to ask her about her daughter, which was awkward. She then asked if my son was "half." I knew what she meant -- is my son bi-racial? "Yes," I answered. I looked at her very Asian daughter. "Yours too?" I asked. "Yes, his father's Japanese," she replied. "Ah..." was all I could say. "I think half babies are the best looking ones," she continued. Obviously, I'm biased, so I nodded in agreement. She continued to chat and I tried to keep listening, but either she spoke too quietly or my hearing is worse than I thought. She eventually started walking away as she was saying something, so we turned around to go back down the aisle. "Well, have a good afternoon," she quietly called out. "You too!"