Eighth Month Round-Up

The Boy celebrated his eight month birthday out of town. P and The Boy spend the better part of the last week visiting P's parents up in Prince George. Thursday I picked them up from the airport. The Boy greeted me with howls and tears. Apparently the descent towards the airport was quick, which made everyone's ears pop; he cried all the way home.

Between the tearful howls P and I had a chance to catch up. Eventually she asked me the question I'd been waiting for, "Did you go out every night and get super-drunk like you always do when I'm away." It's true I'd been 'single' for the past week. Man about town, On the prowl. But with the exception of one night of indiscretion, truth be told I spent the entire time like some sort of creepy shut-in bachelor.

Each night and all weekend long I never left my house unless I had to. I slept, and slept, and slept. Between bouts of blissful, uninterrupted unconsciousness I read, rented movies, watched TV, wrote, listened to music; it was all I had the energy for and the only thing I wanted to do - nothing. One of the best weeks I'd had in a long time.

It's not to say I didn't miss my family though, even a shut-in bachelor gets lonely after a while. So despite being greeted at the airport with wails of anguish, I was happy to see them back.

When we finally got home (an immaculately clean and tidy home I might add) we discovered the reason for the tears, he had unleashed a puck-sized coiler in his diaper. One unfortunate development over the past month is a diaper rash around his anus. Red, angry and sore, it gives The Boy fits whenever he soils himself. And on the other end the teeth just keep coming in, he now has another four poking through. This is on top of the six he already has. It's also giving him fits. Poor little guy, it hurts at both the intake and the exhaust, and there's not much we can do except ride it out.

Cognitively The Boy is starting to master a pincher grip, and consider the toys he's picking up. A cool development and fun to watch. He picks up some blocks and, instead of hurling them across the room like he used to, he's stopping to consider them and put them 'together", then he hurls them across the room.

So far he has shown no interest in going mobile, he's content to sit and play. Our friend Dwight calls this the golden age, when you can plop your babe down and come back a few minutes later to find them in the same spot, I guess I really should be treasuring these moments, because The Boy is bound to start moving one of these days.