Summer's Officially Over

Skip the fact that the leaves are changing color and falling from the trees. Never mind that school started months ago. We know summer is over and cooler seasons are here to stay based on bath time. I thought that peeing the instant his diaper was removed was going to be confined to Bryson's newborn days. I'm starting to think it was just warmer temperatures during the spring and summer that, uh, prevented that particular reflex from taking place. Twice in the past week, Bry peed on the bathroom rug just before I could get him into the bathtub. His aim is impeccable too, since he also got me both times. Stinker.

Waiting for the Great Pumpkin

Rumor has it that on Halloween night, The Great Pumpkin appears in "sincere" pumpkin patches and then flies through the air to deliver toys to all of the good children in the world. Bryson has started his watch early this year:

Is it him?

Looking very sincere.

This is the Everything is OK Alarm

This weekend just didn't quit. The aforementioned rhinovirus was upgraded to full-on stomach flu (or food poisoning, either way, it involved much gastrointestinal chaos) for two of the three of us. Luckily the bug was contained to those of us who are more than 3 feet tall, which pretty much meant that the third member of the household got free reign, while us sickies wearily watched the destruction of the house unfold at an amazingly rapid pace. Actually, we were lucky enough to trade off our sickest days, so that while I laid around moaning and dying on Friday, Steve was on Bryson containment duty, and on Saturday, as Steve managed to sleep for something like 23 hours, I kept our trash cans from being upended and all of the tissues from being pulled out of their cozy box.

Not helping matters was the fact that the battery in the smoke detector in Bry's room started dying Saturday night. It was apparently on its final throes at about 4 am Sunday morning when it started emitting a shrill cheeping noise. Kind of what I imagine a loud, wounded bird being repeatedly poked with a stick might sound like. I first heard Bry fussing and waited with my fingers crossed, hoping he'd fall back asleep. Then I noticed the sound coming from the smoke detector and in my half-asleep, hallucinatory state, wondered if there really was a wounded bird outside. When it didn't stop and Bry obviously didn't fall back asleep, I stumbled into the nursery and localized the source of the noise to the smoke detector. Then I started looking for the fire that I figured better have been burning in the corner so as to set off the smoke detector, wake up Bry, and worst of all, wake me up. Finding no evidence of anything burning, I set out to change Bry's diaper. I must have been sicker and weaker than I thought because about 10 minutes into a 2 minute task I finally called for Steve's help because I could not for the life of me get his pajamas back on. Steve found me sitting on the floor with Bry in my lap, looking defeated and exhausted. Probably because I had been trying for the last 8 minutes to get Bry's right leg into the left leg of his pajamas. In case you were wondering, this does not work.

Sick. Ick.

The rhinovirus has descended upon the Sanger household. Thanks daycare! Up until now we have been very, very lucky, and Bry has escaped all of the 8-12 colds he was supposed to get during his first year of life. Now there are sniffles (and no one likes a Mr. Sniffles) and waking up in the middle of the night. For super bonus fun, there's also drool by the gallon, courtesy of Bry's first two teeth, which are making their presence known, even though they haven't peaked through yet. The sheer volume of bodily fluids in the forms of snot and drool escaping this kid is impressive. I'm just hoping he doesn't have my sore throat, because it feels like someone took a cheese grater to it, followed by a generous sprinkling of cayenne.

The crowning moment thus far in the story Bryson Gets a Cold happened first thing this morning when I was changing Bry's diaper. I noticed that his pajamas seemed to have a stain on the front and at first I just chalked it up to too much drool. Until I noticed another stain on the leg of his pajamas. Um, and some chunks of some unidentified substance in his hair. I took a wary glance towards his crib, where I beheld a truly spectacular mess. Bry had thrown up ALL OVER his crib at some point during the night. (Don't ask me how I didn't see it the first time I took him out of his crib.) Either he went right back to sleep or I missed it when I had retrieved him at about 4 am to try to groggily nurse him back to sleep. Of course it's a little scary that Bry threw up without our knowing about it, especially if it happened while he was sleeping or groggy. But he seems no worse for the wear. He's managing to be his charming self in spite of the snot spigot that is located right where his nose used to be. He squirms and fusses every time I come at him with a kleenex. But he's more than willing to rub his mucousy nose all over my pants leg. Motherhood has never been more glamorous.

First Word?

Greetings all. This is Steve. You may notice the question mark at the end of this post's title. I always thought that something as momentous as my child's first word would be a special, defining moment- one that I'd never forget. And yet, Sandy and I are finding that we can't even quite decide IF he has uttered his first word, let alone WHEN it was. For example, if one were to hear Bryson say "GOO GOO GA BAH BAH DA DA DADA BAH!" what would one think? Did Bryson just say "Daddy?" If you say "yes," then that kind of opens the floodgates. Why not argue that he also said "Moo goo gai pan" or "Ba ba black sheep?" You see, it's just not terribly clear.

Well, I'm going on record as saying that I think Bryson HAS spoken his first word, and I offer this video as evidence. Watch it and decide for yourself!

Too Lazy to Write: Have More Pictures

Haircut: Part Deux

Before:

Nice tail. And bangs.

After:

Looks old enough not to get carded for an R-rated movie.

Who is this little boy? And where did my baby go?

Uhhh...

Who authorized this?

Don't mind me.

I'm just going to climb up here.

And give you a heart attack.

No, that is not a stunt double. And yes, we just went out and purchased another safety gate. It's all about reacting after safety hazards present themselves. Because we're good parents like that.

Bryson: Now with 100% More Opinions

In the past few days, Steve and I have noticed a marked increase in the number of opinions that Bry seems to be sharing with us:

• NO, he does not want to stop playing and go to bed.
• NO, he does not want to take a nap.
• NO, he does not want to sit in the bath.
• NO, he does not like green beans.
• NO, he does not want to have his diaper changed.
  
• YES, he does want to shred that piece of paper.
• YES, he does want to chew on your keys.
  
• YES, he does want to eat RIGHT NOW.
• YES, he does want to rifle through the trash.
• YES, he does want to swing on the open baby gate.
• YES, he does want to open and slam closed the cabinet door.
• NO, he does not care that he may pinch his fingers.
• YES, he does want to race after the cat.

And so on. Expression of his opinion is sometimes accented by high decibel shrieking. Despite our informing him that this is not endearing, he goes on to share his opinion that YES, he will do it anyways.

I can't wait until he's old enough to actually verbalize his opinions. Like when he comes home from kindergarten and announces that he wants to be a Republican. At least we don't have to switch up our response: also not endearing.

When Grandma and Grandpa E Visit

Grandma and Grandpa E breezed into town to watch Bry for a day so that I could get some studying done for my upcoming prelims (thanks for the free babysitting!). Lots of crazy things happen when the g-rents are around. See for yourself: