(photo by Jenna Vincent)
ch. 1 AUNT MIL:
yesterday, Sufyan and I went to visit Aunt Mil at her retirement community. He’s at an age now (9 months!!!) that makes a ladies lunch date at a “fancy” establishment like the Westminster Manor much more difficult than it was previously. And I thought it wasn’t easy before. Yesterday we sat waiting for the lunch line to open (and the slow, walker-laden stampede toward the tomato aspic to commence) while Sufyan climbed all over me, walked up and down the hallway, and took a toy and banged the table…which drew the stink eye from an old lady in crisp polyester pants. She gave it to us TWICE to make sure we knew that babies should be QUIET. Well.
Afterwards, by which I mean after a lunch of trying to restrain Sufyan in my lap, a thing akin to trying to restrain a young, cutlery-obsessed chimpanzee hopped up on espresso and spreading food everywhere, we headed upstairs to her apartment. This apartment used to simply look charming to me, well decorated, stylish. Now it looks like a death trap for infants. It is full of glass tables, figurines on ledges 12″ off the floor, and, curiously, discarded straight pins regularly to be found on the carpet. I can’t even take him out of the Ergo up there now. Imagine me sweating but smiling while Sufyan kicks, turns, and grunts as he strains to escape while Mil and I keep up a conversation. Of course I feel for S. How could a 9 month old do anything but try to escape?
So after nearly 3 hours of restraining him, we end the visit and immediately on sight of grass I let him out to run. It took us 30 minutes to get to our car across the street because he needed so badly to just walk and plop down to examine whatever was in the grass.
(photo by Jenna Vincent)
We then went to CM where we spread a blanket and enjoyed the last 45 minutes outdoors before nap time (and luckily ran into Jenna and Lucas doing the same!).
ch. 2 MY BOY:
We went to the car tired, and he didn’t want to go in the car seat (duh). So I sat back there with him and let him climb all over and squeal. While doing this, a grandma with grandson in arms (about S’s age) came by. “Oh, look, another baby!”, she cooed. “Do you see the baby? Look at the little baby!” Sufyan, of course, stopped to look at them, too. BUT instead of waving, or smiling, he scrunched up his face like a baby bat–drew his lips back and wrinkled every inch of forehead and nose…
AND FARTED. LOUD.