Don’t Call it a Comeback

Tristan has an umbilical hernia.  It makes her already outie belly-button protude even further.  Over time, the hernia will heal.  Now, however, she likes to hold it.

She doesn’t just hold it, though.  She holds it when she’s drinking from her bottle or sucking her thumb.  Almost invariably, she does the latter (suck her thumb) immediately after the former (drink her bottle) because she always does the latter (suck her thumb) when she’s sleepy, which is also often the result of the former (drink her bottle).  It’s a hell of a sight.

This cute, cuddly, little baby-girl grabs her bottle, throws back her head, grabs her umbilical hernia-enhanced outie belly-button, then waddles through the house and, thus, morphs into a little bubba.

Not Buddah. 

Bubba. 

There different…except that they’re both very satisfied. 

As is Tristan.

 

Near Death Experience

I almost killed my wife, last week.

In my defense, it wasn’t my fault.  I was just trying to feed Tristan.  We had decided that she was ready to progress to solid foods, and I was trying to feed her a rice and formula concoction.   There were problems, though.

First, this concoction was difficult to handle.  Depending on how much and how long ago you add the formula to the rice powder, it can be either a dry mush or a watery mess.  Even under the best circumstances, bibs are inadequate.

Second, progressing to solid foods means more than just ditching the formula but also trading the bottle for spoons and forks.  Tristan, unfortunately, was more interested in the spoon than the food.

Thus, I never really even got to the problem of getting Tristan to open her mouth and swallow (can a toothless baby chew rice mush?) and it quickly become an afterthought? It wasn’t an afterthought for Marcel, however.  Marcel kept her eye on the ball and soon piped up. 

“You gotta do the airplane, daddy?”

This is when I almost killed my wife.

If I had been more prescient, it wouldn’t have been a problem.  But I wasn’t thinking.  Instead, I was working to get food into my baby girl’s mouth but between the food sliding off the spoon, then trouble getting her mouth open and, worst of all, failing to get the spoon past her grasping hands, I was failing miserably.  And it was frustrating!  So I just blurted out.

“But she’s just like King Kong!”

Fortunately for all concerned, my wife eventually stopped laughing at me long enough to breathe again.