the one where DSS pays an early morning visit
so…Sammy is teething. Sammy has also been awake more than he’s been asleep during these early morning hours. Erika suffered through a few hours, he would sleep and then cry, sleep, cry, and around 5:45 I got up to try and get him to go back to sleep.
I opened the door to his room to such a pitiful (did I say pitiful, I meant cute-as-hell!) sight: Sammy laying on his belly, peering over the crib bumper with both hands, crying. Yes, he’s figured out where the door is in his room, and knows that is where we’re coming from when he cries. Yay for milestones!
I picked Sammy up — maybe not the best thing to do when trying to teach a kid that crying will not get him his way, and he needs to go back to sleep, but…he’s normally such a happy kid, so any amount of crying feels like a traumatic experience — and he immediately wanted to play. He squirmed, he twisted, he grabbed for anything he could. He wanted to be put down on the floor — so, naturally, I sat him on the floor and told him that his feet smelled. After a few perplexed looks, he started to babble, “Daddy, I’m awake. I want to go downstairs and watch some Little Einsteins.”
At this moment, I thought back to the days when, as naive parents, we said, “Our kid doesn’t need to watch TV.”
So, downstairs we went. But, not wanting to send the wrong message that crying would alway get his way, I sat Sammy down anf put on Frank Zappa’s “200 Motels” — a little aversion therapy, if you will. I mean, he likes “Peaches En Regalia” but could he handle the awesome power of a fully-functioning Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention?
So…now he’s babbling:
“My name is Burtram
I am a redneck
All my friends,
They call me ‘Burt’”
And, of course, I have to yell back: “Hi Burt!”
Yeah…talk about best intentions backfiring…good thing I stopped it before “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy” came on.
Gaining votes for Father-of-the-Year every day!