Have I Jumped the Fatherhood Shark?

In just under four months, have I jumped the fatherhood shark? I don’t dress him up in little outfits, I don’t speak for him, but I did this.

This photo proves two things.

1) My son’s hair is officially growing (we weren’t sure).

2) I’ve officially started to develop a warped amusement that can only come with parenthood.


Reasons My 3.5-Month-Old Son Sucks

Don’t worry. I love my son, blah, blah, blah. One day soon I will write an article titled, “Reasons My 3.5-Month-Old Son is Amazing,” but today is not that day. This will not be a list of things like, “He never answers my questions :).” We all know he’s not talking yet. Here is a sincere list of things that suck about my kid (whom I love).

  • It sucks he barely ever laughs. Sure he smiles an insane amount, and yes that smile lights up the room and makes your heart skip a beat, but I want laughter. I have contorted every muscle in my face, I have made every noise possible, and yet I receive no giggles. It’s getting to the point where I feel like he’s that annoying girl who says, “That’s funny,” instead of laughing. I will continue to work on my comedic stylings for this infant, but it better pay off soon.
  • It sucks that he cries right before he gets his bottle. Let me explain. Dylan barely ever cries. Sometimes he’ll cry when he wakes up from a nap, but it’s mainly just noise. This is how almost every feeding of the bottle goes … He is silent. He is smiling. I get everything ready. The quiet continues. I put the bib on him, he explodes in screams and cries and all of the awfulness. I put the bottle in his mouth. He is silent. He eats. You might think that’s not too annoying. You’re wrong, and here’s why: He is only crying because he knows he is about to eat. It would make much for sense for him to be cheering instead of crying. He’s not worried he won’t get fed. He knows he is getting to eat in seconds (or minutes if everything isn’t completely ready). It’s like some wire got crossed, and his pre-programmed signal of crying to let an adult know that someone should feed him got delayed to the point where he realizes he didn’t signal for the food, feels bad, so then he lets out some quick screams when it’s obvious to everyone in the room that he’s guaranteed to be satiated.

  • It sucks he wants to help hold the bottle. It sounds precious, doesn’t it? Dylan is getting to understand he has hands, and those hands can be used for good, but right now, during feedings, they feel evil. While I hold the bottle, he has a couple of signature moves. One is that he grabs my pinky finger with one hand, my thumb with the other, and pulls them apart. The other is a Karate Kid wax-0n, wax-off maneuver where he thrusts his arms from underneath the bottle. Not matter what the case, he’s just delaying the one action he actually wants (to be fed).
  • It sucks that he can’t/won’t suck a pacifier properly. Perhaps I will love this one day because he won’t be 4 years old asking for his binky, or whatever awful nickname we would give it in this alternative universe, but for now, I wish he would suck. He’ll gnaw and spit it out, but he will not leave it in his mouth.
  • It sucks that he’s wasting his talent. Dyaln rolled over from his stomach to his back at just over three weeks old. Since then, he’s done it one other time. We don’t practice, though he gets plenty of tummy time. I remember being amazed at my special son, who was four months ahead of the rolling-over curve. Maybe this one is on me. I’m not pushing him hard enough.

That’s the list. It’s not very long. Dyaln smiled at me for 70 percent of the time while I wrote this about him. Karma must be coming. I shall beware.

Smacking the Snail

I’m pretty sure this is one of those times when I will find something terribly amusing, only to later discover a lack of sleep and desperate need for entertainment has caused me to believe it is funny, when it’s truly nothing at all. With that, I present to you, “Smacking the Snail.” The 25-second mark is what gets me every time.

Dylan and His Thumb

Dylan has chosen to suck his fingers more than his thumb in this short life of his (still less than four months old even though that seems impossible by my calculations).

One afternoon, he found his thumb, and chose to drink it up.

Did you notice his left hand? It’s like he doesn’t realize his right thumb could be in his mouth without the aid on his left hand. This isn’t very efficient of him, but so far, he doesn’t take his thumb any other way. Is this unique or standard? I ask you, people of the Interweb, answer my call.