I am six months old today. I can roll over, sit up all by myself and eat solid food. Smiling and laughing are two of my favorite activities. I am cute; everyone tells me so. And it's a good thing I'm cute. I think making babies cute is God's way of ensuring that they won't be killed by their parents.
You see, my new favorite game is called "Wake Up At Exactly 3 A.M., Throw My Pacifier Across the Crib, Scratch the Sheets, Kick My Legs and Play With My Lovey With the Rattle in It." Yes, I'm aware that this game has a long name - I'm still working on it.
Of course, this morning's game had a soundtrack provided by our lovely neighbor, George. You know George, the man who promised to sell Mommy and Daddy his house so that they could tear it down and have a yard but then backed out at the last minute. Yep, that George. Well, George decided to play really annoying country music at a decibel level usually reserved for rodeo concerts. By the time Daddy got dressed to go ask him to turn it down (and I think it's a good thing Daddy was going next door because Mommy wouldn't have been very nice about it), the music stopped. But I was fully awake by then. And so were Mommy and Daddy.
Fortunately (for me), Mommy decided to feed me in hopes I'd go back to sleep. It worked. Unfortunately (for Mommy and Daddy), feeding me doesn't help them go back to sleep. So I think they just got up for the day. I think I heard the TV and someone rustling around in the kitchen for a snack, but I'm not sure since I was already back in the "sleepy zone."
I'm planning to play my new game again tonight, but I don't know how well it's going to go over because I think Mommy and Daddy are pretty tired of playing it. I'm pretty sure I heard the words "wean" and "pacifier" in the same sentence along with "new lovey with no rattle." I'm going to miss that lovey.
Fall on Mercer Island
1 day ago