VivaCity

I just want to document something that I'm thinking I might forget in the future. I'm sure I'll look back on this time in our lives and clearly remember Julian's distinct knack for driving us all crazy, his ability to whine ceaselessly, his irritation made evident over every little obstacle, but I may not remember the sweet things. Okay, thing.

At the end of the day, when the fussing has dissipated and bedtime draws near, I perch said Crankmaster on my hip & begin our little nighttime ritual. We head to the kitchen, where I make his bottle & we discuss what sort of day we had. I use the term "discuss" loosely, seeing as how Julian has one vocabulary word, "uh-oh," which usually serves to describe his day anyway.

When the microwave dings, & the baba is ready, I hold it steady while Julian places the nipple on top. This child may be a Sir Fussalot, but he is clearly headed for some career in engineering. He loves nothing more than to screw lids on bottles, or jugs, or whatever fascinating container begs to be capped.

So he places the nipple, with ring, on the baba, and I say, "Yay! You did it! You put the lid on!" (This is my script, I dare not deviate from it.) At which point (here it is, my favorite part of the day), he grins, ear to ear, pride spelled across his little face, & then squeezes my arm sooo tightly, then releases. Just a squeeze, just a smile, but they mean the world to me. My heart melts, & whatever havoc yon bebe has wreaked during the course of the day falls to the wayside, forgotten, forgiven, as we share this moment.

I felt the need to jump on here, my little time capsule of a blog, and record the fact that Julian does have his endearing points, even if the majority of the time he's gunning for the World's Highest Maintenance Baby record. Love you, JuJuBee.