Owen has his mother's sneeze.
I know. Hear me out.
My lovely wife doesn't sneeze normally, she pulls it in at the last second and makes this funny sound instead. Owen does the same thing. He'll sneeze normally once or twice, but the last one is always the same: he tenses up and goes through the sneezing motion, but instead of sneezing, he makes this "Errrrrrgh!" noise. It's adorable, and confounding. How can that be genetic?
Owen's eyes are gradually getting grayer. They were originally a very deep blue, and are still fairly deep blue, but with a fair amount of gray. When trying to describe the exact colour I'm put in the mind of the Atlantic before a storm, which is a bold metaphor for such a small and easy-going soul.
Babies are supposed to have five cries, but as far as I can tell, Owen gets by with two.
Cry number one is sustained (although occasionally staccato) and voluminous, and means either "I am hungry" or "I am gassy" (or both). This cry keeps going until you resolve the root issue.
Cry number two is not quite as loud, intermittent, and ever since my lovely wife described it as such, unavoidably sounds to me like a cat meowing. This cry means that he is unhappy with something about his present state of affairs - the coverage of his blanket, the absence of mom and dad from the room, whatever - and he wants it dealt with. This cry will only go on for a few minutes if not attended to, at which point he will usually resort to his go-to-move: falling asleep.
It's a very logical arrangement. If falling asleep doesn't buy you enough time to make the problem go away, you're certainly no worse off, and also got some sleep in.
He slept in the bassinet yesterday afternoon while we had company (the Rocket and Team Hooking, with an extraordinarly well timed delivery of lunch). At this point I'm fairly certain that there is nowhere Owen can't sleep contentedly. I suspect that this is, at least in part, due to the overwhelming quantity of soldiers in his ancestry.
When he wakes up, he makes incredibly amusing faces. He purses his lips, and then lifts his eyebrows (eyes still closed), as if surprised. This transitions into a theatrically over the top yawn; jaw wide, face scrunched, back arched, toes curled. That complete, he smacks his lips like a rousing cartoon character and tilts his head about, and grunts, and occasionally farts. I try to capture this on video but I don't know that I am collecting the full experience.
Someone told me once that having kids was a one way door; until you do, you don't understand, and once you do, you can't explain. I thought I grokked that before, but I really didn't. I do now, though.
I know. Hear me out.
My lovely wife doesn't sneeze normally, she pulls it in at the last second and makes this funny sound instead. Owen does the same thing. He'll sneeze normally once or twice, but the last one is always the same: he tenses up and goes through the sneezing motion, but instead of sneezing, he makes this "Errrrrrgh!" noise. It's adorable, and confounding. How can that be genetic?
Owen's eyes are gradually getting grayer. They were originally a very deep blue, and are still fairly deep blue, but with a fair amount of gray. When trying to describe the exact colour I'm put in the mind of the Atlantic before a storm, which is a bold metaphor for such a small and easy-going soul.
Babies are supposed to have five cries, but as far as I can tell, Owen gets by with two.
Cry number one is sustained (although occasionally staccato) and voluminous, and means either "I am hungry" or "I am gassy" (or both). This cry keeps going until you resolve the root issue.
Cry number two is not quite as loud, intermittent, and ever since my lovely wife described it as such, unavoidably sounds to me like a cat meowing. This cry means that he is unhappy with something about his present state of affairs - the coverage of his blanket, the absence of mom and dad from the room, whatever - and he wants it dealt with. This cry will only go on for a few minutes if not attended to, at which point he will usually resort to his go-to-move: falling asleep.
It's a very logical arrangement. If falling asleep doesn't buy you enough time to make the problem go away, you're certainly no worse off, and also got some sleep in.
He slept in the bassinet yesterday afternoon while we had company (the Rocket and Team Hooking, with an extraordinarly well timed delivery of lunch). At this point I'm fairly certain that there is nowhere Owen can't sleep contentedly. I suspect that this is, at least in part, due to the overwhelming quantity of soldiers in his ancestry.
When he wakes up, he makes incredibly amusing faces. He purses his lips, and then lifts his eyebrows (eyes still closed), as if surprised. This transitions into a theatrically over the top yawn; jaw wide, face scrunched, back arched, toes curled. That complete, he smacks his lips like a rousing cartoon character and tilts his head about, and grunts, and occasionally farts. I try to capture this on video but I don't know that I am collecting the full experience.
Someone told me once that having kids was a one way door; until you do, you don't understand, and once you do, you can't explain. I thought I grokked that before, but I really didn't. I do now, though.
1 comment:
"Someone told me once that having kids was a one way door; until you do, you don't understand, and once you do, you can't explain. I thought I grokked that before, but I really didn't. I do now, though."
I feel the same way about my Starbucks Gold card.
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