For Mike and Shara...the Boy, in his grinning, wispy-haired glory.
I was again graced with the honor of my wife and son's presence for lunch today, so we skipped out to Bertucci's for some pasta and crayon coloring. Lately he's been on a kick about having his picture taken, so he's always ready with a "cheese!" and a flashy of the pearly whites, even if he doesn't always look into the camera.
Fatherhood continues to be a completely new experience every other day. Just as soon as I have something down he does something new. Yesterday was taking the cushions off the couch and using them as trampolines, which I would normally be fine with, except that he's about as agile as moose, and more often than not springs himself face-first onto our hardwood floor.
He's also decided to go through a weird bubble phobia. He'll sit and play in a bathtub filled with bubbles, but as soon as he comes out of the tub he begins to shout and whine if he sees any bubbles sticking to him. It goes something like this:
ME (lifting him up and putting him on the bath mat): Okay, 1-2-3...Out of the tub!! Stomp stomp stomp!
HIM (stomping): Dadda! Oh, no!!! Bubbles! (points to three infinitesimally small bubbles on his knee) No Bubbles, Dadda, no!
ME (frantically grabbing towels): Jackie, calm down. They're bubbles. You were just playing in them...
HIM (lips quivering in sad but adorable baby fashion): OHHHH, NOOOOO!!!!
This is one of those "makes you want to laugh and cry" examples. I honestly feel horrible whenever I see his face get upset like that but, at the same time, they're bubbles, so it's pretty funny, and I wind up laughing as I rush to rid the boy of the unseemly bubbles.
Kids. Love it.