the army crawl

i woke up at 7:30 on saturday morning to the sounds of fritz playing happily in his crib. i checked the monitor and noted that he looked like he’d be good long enough for me to get up, get dressed, pee, and start the coffee. i did all of those things and then plodded up the stairs to get him. of course, he greeted me with the widest grin possible…just like every other morning. i expected cranky grumpy baby first thing in the morning (because i thought that was genetic), but i’ve got cheerful energetic baby instead. that’s cool with me, it certainly helps wake me up.

anyway, we made our way downstairs after applying a dry diaper (which took longer than it should have because fritz was practicing his contortion acts on the changing table again), and i sat him on the floor while i made his bottle. (i realized about a week ago that i could do this. i can sit him there and he’ll army crawl over to the bouncer or the island, but he won’t make any attempts to throw himself down the stairs or fall backwards and crack open his skull. and that means that life just got .08% easier for me.) anyway, while i was shaking the bottle i looked in all the usual places, but he wasn’t there, and then i heard a noise i could not place. my heart stopped. i was sure that he was in peril. i ran around the island and there he was: on his belly, happily splashing in the cat’s water with one hand and shoveling handfuls of kibble into his mouth with the other.

i pulled him away and ran to get paper towels to clean up the mess, silently cursing my snoozing husband one floor away. i turned to get fritz and he had army crawled over toward the staircase to pop a tasty piece of rug in his mouth. perfect. i fished it out, all the while dodging the daggers that were shooting out of his eyes, and then he began to cry. no appreciation at all, i tell you.

he’s lucky he’s cute.

p.s. his thighs really are that chunky.

p.p.s. that’s the stuffed leek he’s so in love with.


4 responses

  1. Love it. Kibble is so good in the morning. I don’t know why you don’t let him have access to kibble and water more often. what kind of mother are you?

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