Mike and I had the day with Lennon. Sarah and Dusty took off to the cities for a day trip, so they brought him over first thing in the morning and he stayed until a bit after 4 PM. He is such a good baby and very easy to watch. We love having him here.
The only real issue we have around here when we are watching Lennon is the fighting that goes on for his attention. For some reason Mike’s collection of faces and sounds are able to elicit more smiles and coos than mine. I think it is the whiskers on Mike’s face that make him more interesting. I love my baby Lennon, but I am not willing to grow whiskers like Mike’s to garner more of his attention. I have been forced to play second fiddle in the Lennon smile-making enterprise.
Second fiddle is okay (I guess), as when that boy smiles, it is like nothing else. It is amazing how powerful a little smile like that can be. You will do just about anything (however ridiculous) to get another one (and another, and another, etc., etc.). I am confident that as Lennon gets older and the things that amuse him become more sophisticated I will push Mike aside as the top smile generator.
After a fairly uneventful day, Mike was holding Lennon when with a few determined efforts Lennon effectively loaded up his diaper. Well, I say loaded, but it was really like exploded. At the outset Mike’s comments were solely focused on Lennon’s effort. Moments later Mike started moaning and saying something about it being on his leg. When Mike held up Lennon I could see that Lennon’s efforts had pushed up the back of his diaper and had soaked through his onesie. While Lennon was not immediately bothered by this explosion Mike was clearly traumatized. It was then, having taken in the whole situation that I began laughing to myself. At first it was just a little giggle that slipped out. I tried to squelch it because I knew it wasn’t nice to laugh at Mike’s trauma, but it slipped out. After that, the more I tried to keep it in the more it built. Tears were welling up in my eyes and I was having a very difficult time maintaining my composure. I was literally holding my breath toward the end there and I knew I had to breathe or the bottled up laughter would cause me to implode.
I finally let it out and then I couldn’t stop laughing. Tears rolled down my face I laughed so hard. This isn’t the kind of thing that would ordinarily strike me as funny. Gross or unfortunate – yes, but funny – no. With all the racket and Mike holding Lennon out to me at arm’s length, poor little Lennon wasn’t sure what to make of the whole thing. As I wrapped him in a dish towel to take him to get cleaned up (still unable to control my laughter) it occurred to me that this would be a story that I would tell over and over again to Lennon as he grows older – the day he exploded and I almost imploded.
Heck – who needs whiskers?
One thousand one hundred and fifty-five of the new forty – obla di obla da