baby steps

The Ben has just turned two months old. In the past few days he has obtained some small amount of control over his limbs and determined exactly how to manipulate his fist so that it fits inside his mouth. His silly parents try to help him reshape his fist so that only one - or at most two - digits make their way in there, but The Ben apparently knows better: why munch only two fingers when there are five and a hand to be had?

Standing is also a favorite for the boy. Of course he needs some assistance with the balancing – heck, he still can’t completely manage the weight atop his neck – but once he’s up there, he pretty much would rather not come back down. Only problem: his re-enactment of the feeding ritual, played back in reverse, can end up in your face if you’re not watching too closely. . .

Ahhhhh, the feeding ritual. Although she won’t admit it often, I’m sure The Mife [Mother + Wife = Mife; Not to be confused with MILF, which also applies though will not be discussed here] feels like the dairy section in the grocery store. The Ben can actually smell The Mife a hundred yards away. I’m not kidding. If Daddy is walking with a contented smiley Ben and ventures too near his mother, the scent she gives off rouses a riot deep within his bowels, culminating in a whimper and a puppy-dog gaze that makes his mother groan in expectation of another half-hour on the couch with her breasts hanging out, distracting herself with about the only thing a breastfeeding mother with her hands full can do at the moment [everyone shudder]: watch daytime television. AHHHHHH! She’s become a housewife! NOOOOOOO!

Well, this weekend should be a good one. After spending all of the last weekend with his Bonick grandparents, this weekend The Ben gets to see his cheese-head grandmother. Mom and Dad are going to a wedding reception where, perhaps, a bit of alcohol might accidentally stumble down their gullets - so grandma gets to babysit! Where The Mife will probably make sure to stay within her limits, Dad isn’t so optimistic about his own chances. The Ben wouldn’t notice the difference anyway. . .