I realize that I have not written much about my boy, butterbean. This is due in large part to the fact that he has done very little that I find worthy of posting here. Don't get me wrong, I am totally in love with this baby and I, personally, think that he is incredibly gifted and mature beyond his months. He babbles, he rolls over, and he thinks it is simply HI-larious when he shits all over the changing table and my hands. The reality is probably closer to the fact that he is a pretty normal little man... but he is damn handsome. Just look at him.
The thing is, he really looks nothing like me. It is as if I played host for 39 weeks, providing room and board and contributing nothing else. People in the family went so far as to suggest that perhaps I wasn't actually the mother. Nurses in the maternity ward checked my bracelet on average 3-4 times before leaving him in the room with me. And for a while, I suspected that he was entirely my husband's child -- which is not a bad thing. M. is tall (I am not, despite having an internal vision of myself that is at least 3 inches taller), he is v. funny and smart in so many ways that I am not... although he leans republican... but I am working on that.
That was the manner of things at casa t'pon until a few days ago. That is when, much to my delight, I discovered that my son has an almost genetically-linked obsession with the TV. I can explain it no other way, for he is a mere 4 months old. He can not possibly understand what is going on and yet, he is comforted by the happy sounds and dancing pictures he sees before him. In fact, he gets downright testy if you turn him away from the TV, especially (and i do not exaggerate here) when Law and Order is on. Please do not misinterpret this. I am not propping my infant in front of the TV for hours on end. I read to him a lot, we play with lots of interactive toys, we sing and dance, etc. But I do have a need to have the TV on for some of the day, and he does show an incredible appreciation for the small screen. It may not be much, but there is my proof. This child is mine.
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